Snowfall in the Auri Plains was a rare thing. The wide grasslands never got cold enough, despite the lashing winds that plagued the landscape over the course of the winter. Kera had grown up just on the edge of the plains, where the fields bled into the dense trees of the Whisperwood, and snow was a foreign thing to her. A fairytale, something that only existed in the stories her mothers had told her as a foal. So, when the winds whipped across the plains harder than she’d ever felt and the temperatures plummeted to a cold she’d previously thought impossible, Kera’s only thought was to hunker down and hope the storm passed quickly. Spiral had other plans. Kera stood in a small copse of pines, ears flattened against the wind, her nose practically numb in the biting cold. “Spiral…” she whined, lowering her head in an attempt to get below the breeze. “I want to go in.” “Stop being such a baby, Kera.” The liver chestnut darted back and forth across the clearing in front of her, squealing and bucking as she kicked up snow around her. “The snow is fun.” Spiral galloped past Kera, sending a plume of powder into Kera’s face. Kera snorted, shaking her head to dispel the sting of frost. “Well, I’m not having fun,” Kera mumbled. Spiral slowed to a stop, facing her cousin. Her dark coat stood out against the snow but the outline of her white markings gave the odd illusion that parts of her were missing. “Well,” Spiral imitated her tone, “you’re not really trying.” She trotted in a circle, nose low to the ground. “Here, like this.” She dropped to her knees, then her side, rolling on the snow-covered ground. The white stuck to her hair, emphasizing the impression that she was becoming one with the landscape. Kera lowered her head further. She was cold enough as it was just standing in the snow, she couldn’t imagine being covered in it as well. However, Spiral did look like she was having fun. She rolled onto her back, eyes closed, then onto her other side. She laid there for a moment before lifting her head, looking her cousin in the eye. “Come on,” she said, kicking her front legs so a puff of snow billowed into the air. “I’m too cold.” Spiral rolled her eyes before jumping to her feet. She trotted to Kera’s side, pushing her forward with a nose to the flank. Kera swatted her tail at the intrusion, stamping her back foot. “Not happening, Spiral,” she said a little sharply. “Happening, Kera.” Spiral pushed her with her nose again, then with her shoulder. When Kera still didn’t budge, Spiral leaned her chest into her flank, bulldozing into her cousin with her full weight. Kera had no choice but to concede, taking several steps until she stood in the center of the clearing. The wind wasn’t that much worse outside the protection of the trees, but Kera flattened her ears further, shivering as a brush of snow blew across her back. “You’re evil,” she told her cousin. Spiral snorted. “Unclench for once in you life, will you?” She loped a slow circle around Kera before kicking a plume of snow into her face. The chestnut mare squealed, tossing her head. “Spiral!” Spiral smirked before doing it again. “Stop!” Spiral tossed another round of snow towards Kera. “Make me,” she said mockingly. Another puff of snow hit Kera square in the chest. She shook it off, huffing indignantly. “If you’re trying to make me enjoy the snow, you’re really doing the opposite.” The statement ended with a squeal as Spiral’s fourth shot got her in the eyes. Kera half reared, shaking her head to dislodge ice from her eyes. “I’m going home,” she finally declared, turning her back on her cousin and trudging towards their home. She got a blissful ten paces away before she heard Spiral trotting up behind her. “Kera,” Spiral called, “come back!” Kera ignored her, squinting against the wind as it stung her eyes. “Kera!” Spiral caught up with her, bumping her shoulder playfully into the other mare. “Come on, will you at least try—” “—No, Spiral,” Kera cut in, “I won’t.” She kept walking as her cousin stopped. “Why are you being such a buzzkill?” Spiral called after her. Kera rolled her eyes to herself. Naturally, Spiral didn’t understand. Kera loved her cousin very dearly, but the young mare had a habit of forgetting that other horses felt different from her. They’d frequently gotten into arguments about it as fillies, with some of the fights resulting in them not talking to each other for weeks on end. “Hey!” Spiral said, raising her voice over the increasing wind, “I’m talking to you!” “Yeah, I hear you,” Kera said over her shoulder, more sting in her voice than she’d meant. “Then why are you being such a sourpuss?” Spiral had caught up with her, her breath clouding densely in front of her. “Because,” Kera all but growled, “I am cold, the snow is seeping through my pelt, and I’m annoyed. I can’t feel my nose and my eyes sting and I just want to go home.” Spiral snorted. “You’re so dramatic.” “Gods, Spiral! Can’t you listen to me for once? I’m sorry if I’m ruining your day, but I am not enjoying myself and no amount of kicking snow into my face is going to change that.” Spiral’s ears flicked back in annoyance. “Well, you weren’t ruining my day until now.” Kera rolled her eyes. “You never want to do anything fun, so sorry I have to make a point to try and get you to enjoy something for once.” “Did it ever dawn on you that I don’t want to try anything? What’s wrong with not enjoying something?” “Nothing, except that it makes you incredibly boring.” Spiral’s voice was light. She was trying to play it off as a joke, but Kera knew her well enough. She always knew just want to say to make it sting more. Kera didn’t respond, focusing instead on navigating back to their home. They were well into the Whisperwood now, where they had both been living after Kera’s mothers had passed. The snow wasn’t as thick this far into the trees but the layer of white still dampened the sounds of the forest. It was almost unsettling how quiet it was. All she could hear was the sounds of the snow beneath their hooves and the occasional squirrel scuttling in the trees. She knew Spiral was waiting for her to respond but she wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. After several minutes, Spiral sighed dramatically. “Whatever,” she said. “I guess it is kinda cold out here.” Kera glanced sideways at her cousin. Very rarely did Spiral concede first. “And it’s almost lunch time.” “I’m not making you lunch,” Kera declared. “That’s fine,” Spiral said. “I was going to make lunch, anyway.” Kera turned her head to look at Spiral fully. “Are you trying to apologize?” Spiral shrugged and opened her mouth to respond, but Kera cut her off, “Because that’s a bad apology if you are.” Spiral glared at her. “You don’t want lunch, then?” “You can still make lunch if you want, but all I’m saying is you can’t just go on about your life and expect me to be okay with it.” Spiral sighed. “Okay, whatever. Don’t be okay with it.” Kera stopped. It took Spiral a few steps to realize she wasn’t next to her any longer, but once she noticed, she stopped as well. “What?” “Spiral, I really wish you would…I don’t know. Why does everything have to be a fight? Does it really mean so much to you that I enjoy the snow?” Spiral flicked her tail. “Well, yeah,” she said truthfully. “I want you to enjoy the snow because I enjoy it. And I think you could enjoy it if you gave it a chance. When was the last time it snowed here, K?” “It’s never snowed here.” Not as long as Kera had lived there, anyway. “See? So, who knows when it’s gonna snow again? Can’t you just…well, I don’t want to say ‘try’ because I feel like I’ve overused it at this point, but can’t you just give it a chance?” It was Kera’s turn to flick her tail in annoyance. Despite their differences, Spiral was her best friend and her only living relative. Besides her, Kera really didn’t have anyone. “If I don’t like it you have to promise you won’t get mad at me.” Spiral instantly perked up. “So, you’ll try? Just one roll in the snow. Maybe even down a hill! That’s always fun.” She took off at a trot towards the highlands, where small hills dotted the land. “Come on, Kera!” Kera sighed, watching her cousin for a moment longer. The cold was still dreadful and the snow was beginning to clump uncomfortably in Kera’s tail, but her cousin was much happier than Kera had seen her in a while. “I’m coming,” she called, loping after her cousin, trying to relish in crunch of the ice beneath her hooves. Even if she ended up hating the snow still, she could at least say she’d tried.