#Ghosted. [Kodama/yuki]

As quickly as it was before him it was gone, Yuki's body crashing into the snow, his face connecting with a pile of freshly fallen snow. Groaning he climbs to his feet, aggressively wiping down his front he spits out a mouthful of snow. "bleh, ahhh, FUCK COLD COLD COLD!" The cold seems to hit him deep into the bones, his teeth chattering as he spits pits out the last of the stupid crushed ice. "Ah I hate fucking snow," he growls, eyes darting around him he see's a flash of movement, the creature only a mere few feet away from him.

Turning in the snow he prepares his legs to lunge once again. Eyes narrow as he cracks his knuckles. "You're mine," he whispers, smiling slightly.

"Sneaky little bastard," he mumbles, once again wiping the snow from his uniform. Its head tilts to the side slightly, once again its beady eyes stare into his own, unflinching. Taking a moment to catch his breath me moves around in the snow, eyes not leaving the small creature once. "Look," he says to it, trying a nice pleasant tone. "I just need a small favour please." He crouches down, a few feet away. "I need to send a message, just to a friend," to that little loud mouth from eleven.

Then without another word he jumps, hands extended.

He misses, again. Frustration surges through him, his heart racing. His lungs burned, each breath causing the broken ribs to expand, causing pain to surge through him. It felt like he was breathing fire, each breath searing pain. Maybe he should give up, he was sure he looked like a fool flouncing around in the snow like a child high on sugar. Looking into the trees his eyes seek out a camera, looking for its beady little lens that might be following his each and every movement.

Sighing he takes a few deep breaths, calming himself. He already looked like a fool, might as well keep going till he caught the little creeper.

"AHHH," he growls, scrambling to his feet quickly. His chest heaving, the pain in his chest, his arm causing his face to pull back into a grimace. "Why is this so hard?" Maybe if he had spent less time sitting on the outside, ruffling the feathers of other tribute and even a victor, then maybe he would have a better idea on how to catch the small little mutt. But instead he was scrambling around in the snow, getting soaked, and cold.

Bending over he picks up a handful of snow, rolling it between his hands. Just like darts, smiling wickedly through his panting he pulls back his arm, aiming at the unsettling creature. Then he fires, sending his snowball right at the creatures head, begging a god he doesn't believe in, that it would hit.

It dodges all of them, almost as though they were like annoying flies buzzing around its head. A muscle in his jaw twitches, and he shoves his uninjured arm into his mouth, the thick material of the coat smothering the scream of frustration. It should be this hard. hands digging into the snow he picks up a large pile running towards the mutt he tosses the loose snow at it, following through with his body, arms extended, "you're mine!"