The Master's Child
They're even less happy when the dogs spot them and tear across, barking loudly to chase them off.
Stooping, I scoop up a handful of snow, cracking through the crisp surface to get to the softer stuff underneath, then packing it into a hard ball.
"Come on you lot!" I toss the snowball and it arcs through the air, bursting into icy shrapnel as it lands. The dogs charge after it, a howling, bouncing hairy mass, not looking where they're going.
Michael scrapes up a handful of snow, packing it in his hand to a ball, but as he swings back to throw, the dogs leap. Emma collides squarely with both snowball and Michael's chest....
Bab Populer