My body felt a chill as I attempted to wiggle my fingers and toes. They didn’t respond. I groaned as I felt the cold ground beneath me.

I was in trouble.

I knew better than to try and outrun that last shot, but its aim was true, and it struck the center of my back. Now, face down, I wondered if this was the end.

My face was numb, and I’m pretty sure if I could see them, my lips would sport a deep blue. Everything was so cold. I was listless, sprawled out to die on this accursed field. Despair overtook me, the odds were overwhelming. What could a man do against such reckless hate? Was there any hope left?

No.

But I had to try anyway.

I dragged my hands down towards my chest in a feeble attempt to prop my body up, only able to make it to my knees. The soft crunching of footsteps grew louder as my adversary advanced, only to stop right in front of me. Mud splattered his dark brown boots, but the quality was still much better than my own. Typical. Even his equipment far outstripped my own.

As I looked up, the sun loomed behind his head, blurring his facial features to me. I squinted my eyes, trying to decipher the blurry mess.

“Any last words?” he sneered.

I felt the air catch in my chest, as the cold seemed to have seeped into every fiber of my being. The chill made me rasp back my response, “I will win this war.” I allowed myself a small smile. Ever defiant till the end.

The man’s big belly shook in mirth as he let out a raucous laugh. “War? You do not yet know war. You are a child who tasted their first autumn frost and called it winter.”

He bent down and scooped up his weapon, before holding it over my head.

“Goodbye… son.”

He dropped his weapon, a gargantuan snowball, and it sent me crashing back to the ground covered in white powder.

I laid there, defeated.

The silence that followed was pierced by the shrill scream of a woman.

“Boys! It's cocoa time!” mom shouted. “Oh, and don’t you dare bring that mud into my house!”