Snow forts and capture the flag. Neither was things he'd ever done as a kid. He's about to ask about it, the details of this capture the flag and what things would be of motherfucking requirance to it, and if it was anything at all like what came of Signless's crowning last or if he's got his human things all mixed up as happens sometimes.

But then Sam says what he up and says and he's already reaching his hands under snow to get them even colder than their corpse-cold normalcy. He's one shot away from a seadweller. Ice ain't hardly melt in his hands. Sam is a motherfucking dead human.

The dare is on. The Initiate grins wickedly, made all the worst by his rows of fangs. He spins into a position that will better allow movement and dives for Sam, grasping on to drag him close.