The golden-haired boy blinked furiously as the projectile exploded alarmingly close to his face and soft flakes of snow peppered his skin. He buffed them away with his sleeve before they started to burn. He wore a pout, approaching the stubborn resolve to give up on the game altogether if his opponent didn't start missing. It hadn't occurred to him that he could retaliate; he thought the aim of the game was to scream until everyone stopped throwing snow at you. Then you could go back home and get a warm drink of chocolate and sit by the stone furnaces until you were dry again.

For a sheltered child, this was all life needed to be. Some said it worrying how much he resented being out of his comfort zone, but who was left to scold the child? Death of unnatural causes came as a shock to people, even seven years after the ashes of the pyre had long since been blown away to the wilderness. People looked at the boy throwing a tantrum and couldn't bring themselves to deny him anything, to make up for what fate took away.

Of course, the others his age weren't aware of why he received special treatment and, in their jealousy, gave him nothing short of a hard time when they could get away with it.

"Come down, silly monkey!" a shrill voice chanted. As he clung to his pine perch, he could see a lone figure in the moonlight. "Come down!"

He clung to the trunk, hundreds of tiny needles managing to jab him through the thick furs of his coat. Nobody shouted at him for climbing trees anymore. It didn't matter how often he fell and ran back crying, nobody ever denied him his fun. Except the other kids. Why were there other kids? They took his toys, and didn't let him play with them. Their games were stupid, anyway. He never won. Why would he play if he couldn't win?

"Go 'way." He cried, his bottom lip trembling. "I don't like you."

"I'll tell Nanah!" the girl squealed. She knelt down in the snow drift to gather up another tightly packed handful of it and flung it with childlike fury. Her target cried out as it struck him in the arm and slipped down considerably before he stopped flailing and regained his vice-like grip. "I'll tell Nanah you won't play with me!"

The mountain's spoiled duo rarely saw eye-to-eye. Where he was showered with attention because his parents were gone, she received the same treatment because hers were still around. As the daughter of the fallen line of kings, she was used to having her every wish granted.

But as far as their Nanah was concerned, getting the boy to co-operate was just wishful thinking.

"I don't like you!" he began to climb up the tree again. "Go 'way."

She crossed her arms with a huff and stamped her heel down. She was buried in snow up to her knees, but she wasn't shivering.

"Don't make me tell Nanah..." she bit her lip, dangerously close to bursting into tears. They both were.

I'll leave out excuses to try and explain the hiatus.

~Kay