Snowshoeing

I struggle through the snow, aimlessly calculating where to put my foot next. It doesn't work of course, as I plunge through the thin layer of ice and into the powdery snow, getting all of it in my boot. I slowly pull myself out, sighing, and stand next to some friends on an ice shelf that looks adequately sturdy. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I feel the impact of someone slamming into me. I fall, my face grinding into the freezing snow, and roll down the hill into a small valley in the ground where about six faces stand, gazing at me with looks from amused contempt to barely held in laughter. I look at them and lunge toward the nearest person, grabbing their feet and bringing them down, tackled into the snow...Well, I get them on their knees in the snow before they shake my tackle and stand up. Maybe not the result I wanted, but at least I didn't completely screw up. The rest of my friends tumble down the hill to join in the game. Over the next 30 minutes, I tackle many, get tackled more; I figured out the tackling part pretty quickly, but apparently I'm an easy target to tackle, because, well, I was pretty bad. For thirty minutes we play in the snow, falling into the cold powder and slamming each other into it, until we are so tired and can hardly stand up in the shifting snow to tackle others. When Elizabeth calls us back to the circle, she receives 23 freezing kids, windblown and with snow in our gloves, but also more happy then before.