When the real snow came, it came in droves.
Seven pups stood along the windows of the dimly lit Lookout observatory, wagging tiredly, long past their bedtime. Some meteorologist rambled at a low volume on the radio Rocky had turned on as puffy flakes of heavy snow splattered against the windows. They could already see it piling up on the pavement below.
The pups could hardly contain their excitement.
"Now that's some real snow," Marshall yawned, blinking tiredly.
The pups could also hardly contain their drowsiness.
"The first real snow of the year," Chase said, sharing a sleepy glance at Rubble. The bulldog smirked back. "Tomorrow is gonna be a good day. Dress warm, guys, we're going out bright and early. Bright and early!"
"I can't wait," Skye yawned. "It's gonna be — did he say fourteen inches?"
The pups immediately turned to the radio.
". . . foreseeable future. The governor has declared a state of emergency and advised against all nonessential travel at this time. Again, the latest estimates from the National Weather Service for Adventure City and the surrounding area is twelve to fourteen inches of snow. Expect —"
"Fourteen inches?" Chase repeated, grinning wildly at the other six pups. "Oh, tomorrow is gonna be a really good day!"
"Did he say 'state of emergency'?" Rubble whined. Zuma nudged him on the shoulder.
"Nothing to worry about. They say that to keep people off the roads."
"Do you think there'll be a rescue tomorrow? What if someone gets stuck out there?"
"In this town?" Skye said. "Not a chance. They'll stay indoors like they usually do whenever there's a winter storm. And the roads will be clear by late morning. Everyone will be okay!"
"And if someone does need help, you know who to count on," Everest chimed in. "The best snow patroller this town has ever seen!"
"If you say so," Rubble grinned. The pups on the Paw Patrol tended to think about the safety of others first, and their own downtime second. But Rubble knew Skye was right. The other pups must have already figured out what he had been slow to. It was just snow. The storm wouldn't be dangerous. Nobody would get hurt. Nobody would need high-stakes rescuing from an avalanche.
Tomorrow would just be a snow day. And that meant twelve-to-fourteen inches of fresh snow to romp in.
The pups could hardly wait.
"So," Chase said, looking at the other pups. "First light?"
"Fight light!" The other six said in unison as they found comfy looking spots on the floor. On snowy nights, it was better to sleep in the Lookout than to walk through the weather to their puphouses.
"See you then," Chase said as quietly as he could.
The pups were true to their word. They woke just before sunrise.
The pups were practically jumping from the time the elevator doors closed to the time they opened again on ground level. In his effort to be the first one out of the elevator, Marshall tripped over Rocky's paw and crashed headfirst into the food bowls.
"I'm okay!" Marshall said as he pulled himself up. The pups laughed as they pulled their winter coats and gloves on, each one matching their uniform colors. Chase, the natural leader, jumped on a box of dog food and turned to the others.
"Alright," Chase called. "It looks like the snow has stopped falling. And I can tell you just by looking at it, it's at least a foot. You know what this calls for?"
"Snowball fight?"
"Snowball fight!"
The other pups were easily convinced, already wagging.
"That means team leaders," Chase went on. "I'll be your first. Obviously."
"Obviously," Rubble rolled his eyes, laughing. "What about the second?"
Chase shrugged. "Any volunteers? Anyone think they have the guts and the courage to take on my team? The powerful Chase Team? The highly trained Chase Team? The super skilled, super smart, super —"
"Oh, enough already," Marshall giggled. "I'll take you home. I could take you on. Someone oughta shut you up."
"Well, there you have it. Maybe this time you'll actually beat me at something."
The Dalmatian stuck his tongue out.
"Anyway . . . we have an odd number of pups, so someone's gonna have to play referee."
"No one knows snowball fights better than I do!" Everest insisted, pulling on a second hat. Nobody questioned her. "Lemme run the show. There'll be no funny business on my watch."
"That settles it! Blue team, red team," Chase said, glancing out the window. The sun was finally starting to rise, turning the sky orange. "We have about ten minutes to pick teams and plan. And I get to pick first because I'm the oldest, and my opponent is basically still a puppy."
The Dalmatian stuck his tongue out again.
"My first choice is . . . Skye."
"Woohoo!" Skye flipped. "I'm a first round pick!"
"Of course Chase would pick you first," Rubble teased.
"Nothin' to it," Skye said, walking behind Chase. "Maybe he just remembers how I landed a snowball on you from fifty feet away last year."
"That was the wind! One lucky shot!"
"Oh, I'm sure."
"Marshall? Choose your first warrior," Chase interrupted.
"Rocky," Marshall said. "He doesn't like water, so he'll be extra motivated not to get hit by frozen balls of it."
"Finally, my fear is good for something!" Rocky laughed as he joined Marshall's side.
"I'll take Rubble," Chase said. "It's about time Rubble and Skye get put on the same team."
"Besides the Paw Patrol itself, of course," the bulldog said, high-pawing Skye as he walked by. "Together at last. We'll be an unstoppable force."
"I guess I'll take Zuma," Marshall huffed with mock disappointment. "Runt of the litter. I guess someone had to be last."
"Oh, quiet," Zuma laughed, bumping heads with Marshall and Rocky. "I'll be as good as any of you."
The sun was starting to break through the window. The two teams whispered strategies to each other in hushed tones. Everest sat and thought about what might be considered against the rules in a snowball fight. As seriously as the pups were taking it, nobody was sure what the rules actually were. There was only one rule that any of them knew. Hit your target with snow. Everything else would have to be figured out on the fly.
A sharp sound cut through their planning. Six pups looked over at the husky, who was jumping up and down.
"Look, guys! I found a whistle!" Everest cried happily. "Now I'm ready to referee."
"And I think we're ready to play," Chase smirked. "Let's do this!"
As the sun finally lit up the Lookout yard, the six pups lined up by the door. Chase, Skye, and Rubble on the left; Marshall, Rocky, and Zuma on the right. And between them, an excitable husky with two hats and a whistle. Everest took off one of her hats, one that was green.
"Ready to lose, Marshall?"
"Oh, I'm always ready to lose. Are you ready to lose?"
"I guess we'll find out," Chase smirked.
Everest wove the green hat in the air as a starting flag.
"Green means go!" Everest called out. "Go go go! Good luck!"
Two groups of three pups sprinted into the yard as fast as they could through the snow, which was too deep for some of them to even run through. Skye and Rubble pushed forward as best as they could behind Chase, who was already rolling snow into balls and launching them aimlessly in Marshall's direction.
The fire pup pulled a small pile of snow in front of him to create a wall, dragging Rocky and Zuma into his tiny fort. Zuma launched a few haphazard snowballs of his own, but none went anywhere near Chase's team. Rocky bolted across the yard and set up a fort of his own, realizing that Skye had done the same.
"You can't hide in there forever!" Skye called out.
"I can certainly try!" Rocky taunted. From Marshall's fort, Zuma fired a snowball aimlessly that managed to hit Rubble on the head.
"Man, I'm bad at this!" Rubble laughed.
Chase, ever bold and brave, stood right in the open with no cover. He launched snowballs rapid fire, scooping snow off the ground and tossing them across the yard in one swift motion. As Zuma fled Marshall's fort to make one of his own, Chase saw an opportunity. He balled up a snowball as fast as he could and launched it as hard as he could in Zuma's direction. He watched as it soared through the air . . .
. . . and smashed right into Zuma's eye.
"Aah!" the Labrador cried, falling down in the snow. Chase skidded to a halt.
"Time out! Time out! Pup down!" Everest called out, blowing her whistle. "Flag on the play!"
The Labrador struggled to his feet. Marshall was at his side immediately.
"Are you okay?" Marshall asked, dropping his snowballs. Suddenly, the game was on hold. All that mattered was the pup blinking snow out of his puffy red eyes. The other six pups ran over and crowded around him.
"I'm so sorry, Zuma," Chase cried. "I, uh, I —"
"Can someone get my pup pack?" Marshall said, seemingly switching into EMT-mode. Without answering, Skye ran off in the direction of the Lookout.
"I'm sorry," Chase said again. Zuma stayed quiet, but raised a paw to Chase, as if to say it's okay. "Uh —"
"I can walk," Zuma said. "I'll be okay. Just could use a minute . . ."
"I found a few paper towels in here," Skye called from the doorway. "You can bring Zuma inside. Get him something to drink."
Marshall and Zuma wandered towards the Lookout. If Zuma was fine enough to walk, how bad could it be? If Chase didn't know better, he'd say it looked like Marshall and Zuma were laughing a little.
But Chase saw how puffy his eyes looked. I must've really hit him hard, the shepherd thought. Chase tried to follow them inside, but Everest pulled on his arm.
"Yellow card," the husky said. It looked like she was fighting a smile. "Five yard penalty, automatic first down. The red team gets a free throw. You go to the penalty box for two minutes."
"I think you might be mixing a few things up," Chase said, smiling back ever so slightly before dropping it. "I really hit him hard, didn't I?"
"Eh, I wouldn't say so," Everest shrugged. "He didn't look too bad. I've been hit like that before. Not in the eye, but just as hard. It isn't fun, but I'll bet you dollars to donuts he'll be back in two minutes. He just needs to dry off for a bit."
"I just . . . it was all my fault," Chase sulked. "I should've been more careful! I could've taken his head off with a throw like that!"
"He'll be okay," Rocky said. "That pup can shake off anything."
"What if he's hurt?"
"It's just snow, Chase. But if he's hurt, Marshall will take care of him."
"What if he's mad at me? What if he hates me forever?"
"Have you ever known Zuma to be mad about anything ever?"
"I hit him really, really hard!"
"He didn't seem to think so."
"What if Zuma goes blind?"
Now, the other pups were laughing.
"I'm serious!" Chase whined.
"You worry too much," Rubble giggled. "Everything's gonna be fine."
"If he was fine, why did Marshall take him inside and give him a check-up? He asked for his pup pack! He must've needed his first aid kit! I must've really hit him hard . . ."
"Marshall drags out his first aid kit when we stub our toes. He gave me a check-up for sneezing the wrong way a few weeks ago. I wouldn't take it to heart."
"What if Zuma secretly hates me and —"
"Come on, Chase," Rocky laughed. "Does that really sound like Zuma?"
Chase stopped to think about it. No, it didn't really sound like Zuma. But it didn't make him feel any better.
The shepherd sat on the ground. "I still feel bad. How can I make it up to him? Should I apologize again? Make some sort of grand gesture? Should I give him my extra pup treats?"
"You can start by taking a chill pill," Everest said. "Zuma's gonna be just fine. He's probably already over it."
Chase huffed. "I'm gonna prepare an apology."
"Whatever you say, cop dog," Everest giggled. "Do it from the penalty box," she added, drawing a square outline in the snow around Chase.
Chase huffed again. It seemed like nobody was taking it seriously. In fact, the other pups were still managing to have fun. Did nobody care about Zuma's injury? Did nobody care that Zuma's eye could fall out? Did nobody care that Zuma could die?
It sounded silly even in Chase's mind, to imagine the famously lax Zuma getting upset over something as minor as a snowball. But if overthinking was a paying job, Chase would be rich.
He took out a scrap of paper.
On the inside of the Lookout, the water pup blinked away the last of the snow as Marshall dabbed his eyes with a paper towel.
"There you go," Marshall said. "Like it never even happened!"
"That's better," Zuma said. Skye handed him a glass of water. "It's nice to see again."
"Did you at least see that shot you landed on Rubble before you were hit?"
"That was hawd to miss! Rubble just can't catch a bweak."
"I guess snowballs just love him," Skye added as Rocky strolled into the room. "Oh, hey Rocky! How are things out there? Where's Chase?"
"Outside writing an apology to Zuma out on a piece of paper."
"Please tell me he isn't," Zuma rolled his eyes as Marshall and Skye struggled not to break into fits of giggles. "Thewe's something wrong with that pup, I swear. He spends half his life worrying about nonsense."
"It's because he cares about you," Rocky said, though even he couldn't deny how ridiculous it sounded. "He has it in his head that he blinded you for life. He won't listen to reason."
"Yeah, sounds like Chase," Marshall giggled. "Headstrong as ever."
"One of these days he's gonna worry himself into some other dimension," Zuma said, getting up. "Well, I guess I better go outside and tell him I'm fine befowe he adds a song and dance to his apology."
Rocky blocked his path to the door, grinning.
"I think I have a better idea."
How many pup treats properly says "I'm sorry for pelting you in the eye with a snowball?"
Chase stared tiredly at the scrap of paper he was scribbling on. It was technically the backside of a speeding ticket; it was the only paper Chase had on him. But Zuma didn't need to know that.
Maybe three. Or four. Maybe six?
Suddenly, the ridiculousness of what he was thinking about struck him. Here he was, desperately trying to apologize for something the victim in question might not have even cared about, by debating how many pup treats would win his forgiveness.
This whole thing is stupid, the shepherd grumbled in his mind. What was I even thinking? Of course it should be six.
Chase sighed and stuffed the paper back in his coat pocket. Hopefully Zuma wouldn't be too upset when he heard it . . .
Rubble and Everest were struggling to roll a ball of snow into the base of a snowman not too far from Chase when the other pups came out of the Lookout. Marshall and Rocky stood on either side of Zuma – when had Rocky gone inside? Chase didn't realize he'd left – and Skye stood a ways behind them, trying and failing to hide a giant smile.
Chase stood up in the makeshift penalty box.
"Hey, Zuma," Chase said. The Labrador's eye looked fine. If anything, it was a tiny bit puffy, but it didn't seem to bother Zuma anymore. "I wrote you an apology. Straight from the heart, to show you how sorry I am. I have it here somewhere —"
Chase looked down to find it in his coat pocket.
As he did, Zuma hit him between the ears with a giant snowball.
The cold struck Chase immediately, causing him to jump. Snow dripped down his head as he looked up to meet Zuma's eyes, who was already howling with laughter. Marshall and Skye soon joined him, followed by Rocky, Rubble, and Everest.
"It was Rocky's idea!" Skye yelled. "It was all him!"
"You should've seen your face!" Marshall cried. Even Chase found himself laughing.
"Wait, so . . . you're not upset?" Chase asked, a bit puzzled. Zuma shook his head, still laughing, and punched Chase playfully on the shoulder.
"It's all cool, dude. You worry too much."
"Huh. I guess I really blew this out of proportion, didn't I?"
"Wouldn't be the first time."
"And it won't be the last, I'm sure."
Zuma hugged Chase with one arm. "And we wouldn't have it any other way. It's nice to have a leader like you. Strong enough to pelt someone with a snowball and caring enough to cwy about it."
"Oh, shut up," Chase giggled. "I guess that settles it for this year's fight. I'm not gonna risk sending any other pups to the ER. I guess I'm just too strong and powerful for you all."
"That begs the question, who won?" Marshall asked, looking at Everest. "And it better be the red team!"
"By the power vested in me as the referee of these games, I declare a tie. And definitely not because I forgot to create a point system."
Chase and Marshall shook paws.
"Maybe next year you'll win."
"Maybe next year you won't get sent to the penalty box."
Chase scooped up a snowball and fired it at Marshall, who deflected it with his paw.
"Come on, you two, get over here and help us build the snowman!" Everest called out. "We need a few strong and powerful pups to roll this ball into a base!"
Chase and Marshall ran over to where the snowman was taking shape, joining the other pups in rolling it. And as the snow slowly rolled into a snowman, the two teams united back into one. The blue team and the red team, together again with a common goal.
And for a few brief hours, a proud pup made of snow stood guard over the Lookout.
A fleeting but perfect piece of the pups who had built it.
A/N: No closing notes for this one! There's a first time for everything.