plight of sight - snowballs

[torren]

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F l u m a d i d d l e . n.
It hasn't even snowed yet.  Recognizing the overlap of voices as an event of some kind, the wildcat approached with mild amusement in his eyes.  His thick fur offered fair insulation, though Torren expected he may desire a warm fire to sit beside after partaking in any sort of snow-based activities.  In the meantime, the brown eyes he carried studied the mounds of snow.  The battleground already set in place and a willing opponent.

He suspected Feza to be a less patient individual, unsurprised as he caught the tail-end of her words.  "Give me a chance at least," he protested with a twitch of his whiskers.  While the majority of his homeland sat beneath a great mountain range, snowball fights -- or complete snow warfare more like -- reign as commonplace in the winter.  The valleys never grew more populated by children than in the colder seasons.  Torren suffered a great deal of losses at the paws of his younger sister, albeit with little compliant. 

"Are we playing to a total or until surrender?"