“Again, Summer? Really? You’re such a evil girl.” He said, smiling, rushing his steps and chasing her. “You better run, or I’ll hunt you like a prey!”
“I do try!” She took off from a standing start, sliding through the snow madly, hair flying. “What happens,” she panted, “if you catch me?”
He kept running, his scarf flying against the wind. “If I catch you,” he said quietly, folding his arms while looking at her. “I’ll throw you on top of a mistletoe.”
“On top? Sounds prickly. You do know those grow in oak trees, right?” She laughed breathlessly, then hit a patch of ice and fell.