Are you an aspiring writer? Think your fantasy chops are a good fit for this story? Would you like to join the exercise? Fine. Don't ask any questions. Don't ask permission. Just post the next portion directly to the comments. I'll discuss your input with Crystal. If we agree, we'll add your work to the mix and your name to the by-line.
Give it a shot. What do you have to lose?
Celeste tramped through the snow trying to take the sidewalk wherever possible, which due to the snowstorm was not often. She then tried to stay in the tracks of cars that had passed and tripped and stumbled around for her effort.
:When did you become such a klutz? You’re only a few hundred years old, you should be in better shape than this,: griped her furry passenger.
:Be nice or I’ll let you walk too,: she barked back at the little fur ball.
With her next step she twisted her ankle and fell face down in the snow. She sat up and slammed her hands down on both sides of her, “When I get my hands on that walleyed, muck-sucking, guttersnipe, I’m going—I’m going to—going to—”
“You’re going to do what sister mine?” Gawain laughed and just stood there pointing at his sister, his laugh continuing. “Gotcha!” he finally exclaimed when he could find the breath.
Celeste’s face turned red and she struggled to her feet. Then, without warning, her face changed from frustration to an evil grin which she turned on him. Her eyes had dilated and were turning red.
“O no, Celeste, I know that look. You wouldn't dare. It was just a joke.” he pleaded.
“I did not find the least bit of humor in that Gawain, look at me.” she said, pointing at her snow covered body.
:Nor did I. I’m wet and cold.: chimed in Jacob.
Celeste took a step toward her brother (well, her step-brother to be exact) and raised a hand pointing toward him.
“Really Celeste, let’s shake and let bygones be bygones,” he said nearly pleading.
“Are you crazy, in the middle of winter, in a snow storm, you do this! Let me show you how it feels you overgrown imp.”