Every year the same foe rears its pearl capped head. The lone warriors trek across the frozen tundra leaving the only traces of mankind seen in months. Upwards they push to the peak so that they can try their hand at vanquishing their frozen foe. Boot fall after boot fall ring across the snow signaling the start of the attack. The elder warrior smooths the snow and hands the weapon to the younger stronger individual to blaze the trail. The younger rushes ahead the wind whipping through his hair as the cold slices at his face. The journey is quick but full of turns and hillocks. The younger must keep his wits about him as he steers clear of danger. Finally, his weapon slices through the midsection of his enemy. It is a glancing blow for the young one has not the strength or weight required to push it all the way home. Dejected but not crushed, the young man jumps up to start the next attack. This time the elder joins in and with more experience and weight flattens the top and middle of the beast creating a path for the younger's next advance. Now at the top the young warrior pauses to consider his strategy then pounces slowly shifting his weight to gain speed. Once more he slices through the middle, this time his momentum carries him to his goal. The aim is true and he sails through the middle to the trees. Finally he comes to rest at the base of a tree panting and exhausted and covered with the spoils of the battle he lies there looking up at the night sky. He rises slowly and lets out a war cry of victory. This year's challenge is over for now but there is talk of others coming later so the pair must remain vigilant. The elder congratulates the warrior on his conquering ride and they walk back through the night to tell their tale to all who will listen. Until the next time.

Ah the joy of sledding.