Snowball
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the plot. I figured you'd get that by now.
Author's note: I got a cool new journal, and I 'm writing all my drabbles in it. I try to make them about a page long. This takes place after the prologue and before the first chapter of ROTG.
On with the show…
Daine formed a perfect snowball out of the snow on the ground. The snow was bright, just the right degree of wet, and the perfect weapon. Daine knew it was the perfect snowball, and she knew exactly who it was going to hit.
She trudged back to camp. "Numair!" she called to the man packing up his part of the camp site – she had already done her's.
"What?" he asked, annoyed, and raised his head from the bag he was packing. He saw her hand with the snowball in it. "Oh, no," Numair said, shaking his head, "No way. You are not going to throw that at me. Think about it logically. If you throw that snowball at me, I will be wet. If I am wet, I will be cross and will have to warm and dry myself. To dry and warm myself, I will have to almost drain myself, because my black robe's magic is far too large to do little things like that. Once I am down to almost nothing of my gift, I will be able to dry and warm myself. I will now be drained. I will not be able to defend myself or you against immortal attacks. I will not be able to shield our camp until my gift is restored. One or both of us may die. Now, think about it. Is that the price you want to pay to throw one juvenile snowball at me?"
Numair walked away to load their saddlebags onto Cloud and Spots.
Daine stood frozen, looking at her perfect snowball. Then she grinned savagely and threw her snowball right at Numair's head.
He turned and glared at her. She called "That's what a blanket is for!"