Sawtooth Spire I'm not the one to normally play the fool

Feeling immensely comfortable and at home in the by now familiar den, Quell rolled onto her side, then her back, idly kicking her legs in the air as she stared up at the ceiling. Maybe if I piss on the rug, she won't want it, she thought to herself, snickering under her breath before rolling over onto her other side. She sprawled for a moment before righting herself and heaving back onto all fours.

She padded out of the den's mouth and stilled. Before Q could contemplate where to go and what to do next, a melting heap of snow suddenly detached from the rocks above the entrance, victim to gravity. It plopped unceremoniously on the yearling's head, cold and very wet. Quell shuddered and sat down, letting the chilly ice slide down her back even as she cried out to no one, "I've been hit!"