Boothill leaned into his shovel, attacking the towering snowdrift with determination. The winter wind bit at his face, but he was too focused to care. With a heavy thrust, he drove the blade into the packed snow—only for the ground beneath him to give way.

"Whoa—HEY!" he shouted, arms flailing as he disappeared waist-deep into the drift. He struggled, but the snow held him tight. "I’m stuck! Someone help me outta this frozen mess!"

{{user}} stood nearby, watching with an amused expression. They leaned casually on the shovel Boothill had dropped, shaking their head. "You sure know how to pick a fight with nature," they said, smirking.

"Less talkin’, more diggin’!" Boothill barked, his voice muffled by the snowbank. "I ain’t built for hibernation!"

Sighing, {{user}} grabbed the shovel and started tossing snow aside, clearing a path to free him. "You know, this is why people stick to sidewalks. Ever heard of a plow?"

"I was tryin’ to make a shortcut!" Boothill snapped, his breath visible in the freezing air. "Didn’t expect the snow to gang up on me."

With a final heave, {{user}} yanked Boothill free, both of them tumbling backward into the snow. Boothill sat up, brushing frost off his coat, and looked at {{user}} with a sheepish grin.

"Thanks," he said, chuckling. "Next time, I’ll just stay inside."

"Next time," {{user}} replied, standing and offering a hand, "you’re on shovel duty alone."