Chapter 23 Melody
Melody
I’m forming what might be the world’s first omega-alpha-llama alliance in the history of snow warfare, and I’ve never felt more alive.
Everett is still visibly tense from discovering the stolen trees, and he has that manic glint in his eyes that screams, “I need to throw something at someone before I explode.”
He explains the rules of Snow War with all the gravity of a five-star general outlining a tactical strike, while Oxford watches us with deliberation.
“It’s very simple,” Everett says, gesturing expansively at the snow-covered hills surrounding us. “Two teams. No mercy. Last team standing wins.”
“And by ‘last team standing,’ you mean?” I ask.
Everett’s grin is both charming and slightly terrifying. “Complete and total annihilation of the enemy.”
“Very sportsmanlike,” Finn mutters. “Nothing says ‘holiday spirit’ like violently pelting your loved ones with frozen precipitation.”
I stifle a laugh.
“And that’s not simple, that’s vague,” he continues, all huddled in layers.
Once again, only his eyes are visible between his hat and scarf, giving him the appearance of a disgruntled ninja.
“What are the actual rules? Is there a safe zone? Time limits? Geneva Convention protections against snow down the back of the neck?”
Gabe laughs. “Scared, my love?”
“Terrified, thank you for noticing,” Finn retorts. “Unlike your wall of muscle, I’m not made for incoming projectiles… especially icy cold ones.”
“We spread out. Hide. Attack. If you get hit with three snowballs, you’re eliminated,” explains Everett.
“Not my pretty face, please… or Melody’s.” Finn says.
“We’re gentlemen,” Everett says with mock offense.
“I’m an omega,” I point out.
“And I’m a beta who cheats at cards,” Finn adds.
“Fine,” Everett concedes. “Direct hit to the torso counts as elimination.”
Gabe cracks his knuckles, looking positively terrifying, and I feel a slight shiver of excitement just by looking at him. “Teams?”
“I call Melody,” Everett says immediately, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“Can Oxford be on our team?”
Everyone turns to look at the llama, who stands majestically in the snow, his scarf fluttering slightly in the breeze.
“As… what? Artillery?” Finn asks.
“Defense,” I say. “Look at him. He’s practically a fortress.”
Oxford tilts his head at my words, somehow managing to look both offended and pleased.
“That makes it three against two,” Gabe points out.
“Oxford counts as half a player,” Everett decides. “He can’t throw snowballs, just block.”
“That’s generous of you,” I tell Oxford, who gives me a look that clearly says he considers himself worth at least two human players.
“Teams settled, then!” Everett declares, his eyes lighting up with competitive fire. “You have five minutes to prepare your defenses before battle commences.”
“May the odds be ever in your favor,” Finn calls dramatically as he and Gabe head toward a cluster of trees on the far side of the clearing.
“Roger that,” Gabe says, already backing away, towing Finn by the sleeve.
“This is outrageous,” Finn protests. “I demand hot chocolate compensation for emotional damages!”
“Stop whining and start strategizing,” Gabe tells him, their voices fading as they disappear around the side of the cabin.
“Ready?” Everett asks, eyes twinkling.
“Ready,” I confirm, before turning to Oxford. “How about you, Fortress?”
Oxford blinks once, which I choose to interpret as enthusiastic agreement.
Everett turns to me with a sparkle in his eye that makes my heart flutter. “Let’s strategize.” He gestures for me to follow him behind a large snow-covered pine tree, our temporary headquarters.
Oxford trails behind us, his hooves making soft crunching sounds in the snow. He seems almost excited about participating in our snow battle.
“So what’s the plan, Captain Pine?” I ask, crouching beside Everett. His scent—pine and peppermint—washes over me, making my omega instincts purr with satisfaction.
“First, we need a stockpile.” Everett immediately starts gathering snow, his large hands working quickly to form perfect spheres. “Gabe’s got a killer aim, but he tends to overthink his strategy. Finn’s sneaky—he’ll try to distract us while Gabe goes for the kill shot.”
I kneel beside him, our shoulders brushing as I start forming my own snowballs. My first attempt crumbles pathetically in my hands.
“Like this,” Everett murmurs, his hands covering mine. He guides my movements, showing me how to pack the snow just right. His touch sends tingles up my arms, and I have to concentrate extra hard on the snowball and not on how good his hands feel against mine.
“Pack it firm, but not too tight,” he instructs, his breath warm against my ear. “You want it to hold together in flight but break on impact.”
“You’ve clearly thought about this a lot,” I tease, trying another snowball. This one holds together perfectly.
“Pine family snow wars are legendary,” he says with a grin. “Charlie and I have been ambushing each other since we could walk.”
“I bet you always won.”
“Actually, Charlie’s ruthless. She once hid in a snowdrift for two hours just to get the perfect shot at me.”
I laugh, then quickly clap a hand over my mouth when I realize how loud I’m being.
Everett’s eyes crinkle with amusement. He leans in close, putting a finger to his lips. “Shhh,” he whispers, his face inches from mine. “They’ll hear us.”
“Sorry,” I whisper back, fighting another giggle. “I’m not very stealthy.”
“You’re doing fine,” he assures me, his eyes never leaving mine. For a moment, we just stare at each other, and I swear the temperature rises despite being surrounded by snow.
Oxford lets out a soft huff, breaking our moment. He positions himself at the edge of our hiding spot, his head swiveling like a periscope as he scans for the enemy.
“Oxford’s taking his role very seriously,” I whisper.
“He takes everything seriously,” Everett whispers back, returning to snowball production. “Except apparently his loyalty to me. He’s definitely on Team Melody now.”
“Smart llama,” I say, nudging Oxford’s side affectionately. “He knows where the best treats come from.”
Everett gives me a mock-wounded look. “After all these years of hay and premium alfalfa, he abandons me for a woman with strawberries.”
“The way to a llama’s heart,” I whisper, then pause as Everett puts a finger to his lips, then points toward a slight depression behind a fallen log about twenty feet away. It’s the perfect defensive position—a natural snow fort with good visibility but plenty of cover.
He leans in so close his lips almost brush my ear. “On the count of three, we make a run for it. Oxford can cover our retreat.”
I nod, suddenly unable to speak.
“One…” he mouths silently, his eyes locked with mine.
I grip my snowballs tighter.
“Two…”
I tense my muscles, ready to sprint.
“Three!”
We burst from our hiding spot, snow flying as we dash across the open space. I hear Finn’s surprised shout from somewhere to our right, followed immediately by the whistle of a snowball sailing past my ear. I yelp and duck, nearly losing my footing in the deep snow.
Everett grabs my hand, pulling me forward as another snowball whizzes by.
Behind us, Oxford positions himself directly in the line of fire, a fluffy white barrier between our attackers and us.
A snowball hits him square in the side, and he doesn’t even flinch, just gives Gabe a look of profound disdain as the snow slides off his thick coat.
We dive behind the log just as a barrage of snowballs pelts our previous position. I land half on top of Everett, both of us breathing hard and trying not to laugh.
“Did you see Oxford’s face?” I gasp, laughing, rolling off him. “He looked so offended!”
We peer over the log to see Oxford trotting toward us, completely unruffled by the snowball assault. He settles beside our position with the dignified air of a knight taking his post.
“Good job, buddy,” I tell him, patting his side. “Very heroic.”
Oxford makes a soft humming sound that I choose to interpret as, “You’re welcome.”
“I don’t see them,” I whisper, squinting at the trees where Finn and Gabe disappeared.
“They’re being sneaky,” Everett murmurs. “We need a distraction.”
“I volunteer Oxford!”
The llama looks at me.
“Sorry, but you’re totally built for this.”
Everett’s eyes light up. “I have a plan. You and Oxford create a diversion to draw Finn’s fire. I’ll circle around and take him out, then we hunt down Gabe together.”
“Roger that, Captain Pine,” I say with a mock salute.
" Okay, prepare for assault.” He says, then makes a run for it with an agility that speaks of years of snow wars.
I glance at Oxford. “He’s enjoying this way too much.”
A snowball whizzes past my head, exploding against a tree trunk. I yelp and duck down as Finn’s voice rings out.
“First blood!”
“That wasn’t even close,” I call back.
“It was a warning shot,” he answers. “Next one’s going to hit you right in the boobies unless you surrender.”
I grab one of my snowballs. “Oxford, cover me.”
Oxford positions himself in front of me like a fluffy shield, his ears perked forward as he surveys the battlefield.
“Come on, admit it, you’re into this, aren’t you?” I whisper to him.
His tail swishes once in agreement.
Suddenly, a snowball whistles past my ear. I yelp and duck lower.
“We’re under attack!”
I peek around Oxford and see Finn creeping toward me, a snowball in each hand. Behind him, Gabe is engaged in what looks like an intense snowball fight with Everett.
“Oxford,” I whisper, “distraction maneuver?”
The llama gives me a look, then sprints directly toward Finn.
Finn freezes, clearly uncertain how to handle a charging llama. This gives me just enough time to pack three perfect snowballs and launch them, hitting him square in the chest in quick succession.
“Direct hit!” I crow, pumping my fist in the air.