Snow is fun. It really and truly is. It's fun when a person has layers, and they have gloves and good boots and a myriad of other things that would result in warmth and protection from the elements.

Snow in whatever grown up summer camp this place is supposed to be is lacking in pretty much anything and everything to make snow fun.

So when cold and wet slaps into her shoulder as Peyton is making her way to the inn, she shrieks. Whipping around, dipping down to gather up as much snow as she could despite the way it instantly made her hands ache.

"Someone is going to pay," she says, twisting her hands, letting what warmth remains pack the snow some, making what is a fairly tightly packed ball with a bit of icy crunch on the outside as she throws at the first person she sees, whether he threw it or not.