It was just a little snow. Nothing much. A few inches, that was all. It was enough to utterly destroy any sentiment of training among the Fowlers, however. Even Helmer, normally too gruff and grumpy to engage in any kind of entertainment besides making them suffer, seemed to understand that no work of any kind was getting done by anyone that day. So when Jo threw the first snowball, smacking Picket on the back of the head, everything dissolved into chaos. Helmer sat back under the barren tree and watched the catastrophe with a hint of amusement. However, no one was stupid enough to try throwing one at him. No one wanted a concussion. Shouts of:
"Ow! Perk that hurt!"
"Picket, I thought you were scared of heights!" And
"Jo that went down my shirt!" Soon filled the area. Things didn't even reel to a halt when Helmer noticed Wilfred and his young charge-the prince-winding through one of the bramble tunnels towards them. They were talking (Arguing, probably) rather loudly, Wilfred very animated but Smalls slightly more reserved, as he kept his hands inside of his pockets, clearly having forgotten gloves. They were so caught up in their conversation that they didn't even appear to notice that absolute insanity they were about to walk in on. Helmer, noticing how distracted Wilfred was, smiled to himself as he gathered a clump of snow. Wilfred and Smalls paused at the end of the tunnel, paying no mind to what was around them….that was, until Wilfred was smacked in the face with a snowball that Helmer had thrown. The look on Smalls' face was priceless, something of a mix between confusion and surprise. Helmer couldn't resist a laugh. Wilfred wiped the snow off his face and asked, his voice pure shock,
"Helmer?" And the chaos resumed, this time with both Helmer and Wilfred taking a more active role. Smalls lingered on the edge, clearly reluctant to get involved.
"Hey your highness!" Picket shouted. Smalls looked up. Uh oh- Since Picket was positioned above him, he didn't really have much time to maneuver before a large amount of snow ended up on his face.
"Picket!" Smalls spluttered. Picket laughed as he spun and raced off towards the tunnel, only to be caught and brought back into the barrage of snowballs by Wilfred.
"Worth it!" He shouted through the flying snow. Smalls, happy to get revenge on Picket by chasing the younger buck and throwing snow at him, proved to be the last straw of any kind of maturity that remained. Smalls simply had to be goaded into it. Once he started, well, things like realizing that maybe dumping snow on the rabbit who is clearly much faster than you and easily able to catch and dump a truly ostentatious amount of ice particles on you wasn't such a good idea. This was the very lesson Picket was learning the hard way. The very hard way.
For the second time that day, the group was so caught up in their game that they didn't notice the two does making their way down the same path that Smalls and Wilfred recently had; no one noticed Emma and Heather. This proved to turn out very badly when first one, then two, mis-thrown snowballs each hit one of the girls. Everything grinded to a halt, Jo still in mid swing as he aimed to hit Wilfred in the back of the head. Though before it had been shocking, this time it was more fear. Heather wiped snow off of her face as Emma said, tapping her foot,
"Who threw that snowball?"
"My moneies' on Picket." Jo said, quickly dropping the snowball he was holding and putting his hands behind his back. Picket narrowed his eyes.
"Really? Because I thought I saw him-" He pointed to Smalls, "Throw one at Heather."
"I would never do that!" Smalls protested, flushing. "I was trying to throw it at you."
"The fact that any of you are doing this is wildly immature." Emma muttered. "So why am I going along with Heather here?" While the boys had been arguing, the girls had climbed up into the tree, where an infinite supply of snow awaited them, and began to rain down such a large attack that most of the boys had to run and duck for cover. Wilfred and Helmer retreated from the game, then content to sit and watch as the boys were thoroughly pummeled by the girls.
"Heather is purposefully going for the princling." Helmer noted. "She seems to be quite enjoying herself." Wilfred shrugged.
"Asking Smalls about that is like putting a question to a rock; you can expect silence."
"Emma looks as if she is thoroughly savoring this moment."
"She does." Wilfred agreed. "The boys won't forget this any time soon." Smalls finally seemed ready to fight back, And both Heather and Emma were soon struggling to fend him and the Fowlers off. Helmer and Wilfred finally got involved-this time on the girls' side-to even out the numbers some. Picket and Jo bemoaned the unfairness of this and took out their anger on sending huge snowballs flying up at the tree, only to find this ineffective, energy consuming, and time consuming. The snowball fight finally ended after Jo tripped and skinned his elbow, and Smalls nearly fell into a nearby spring due to how slippery everything was. But it was good, Both Helmer and Wilfred thought, to see their charges acting-for once-like the whole world didn't depend on the choices they made. That they could just be kids, even if it was for just one day.
