This morning's prompt was 'snowman'.

Now I'm out of prompts...

Afapsgsbsu!

Wendy wasn't completely happy with the straightness of the stick, but she had whittled a fairly sharp point on the business end as they walked the perimeter. She knew better, but she'd been bored and now she had a nice pointy walking stick. She turned to show it off to Jake-

"That snowman moved..."

Last night the younger members of their camp, habitat rats mostly, had played like children in the new fallen snow. One of them had stared for hours, entranced by the novelty of heavy wet flakes of frozen water, falling from the all that open, empty sky! The rest had gotten drunk on ship's lightning and then stolen items to dress the snowmen, including CPO Banks' cap, and Banksie hadn't even gotten mad!

Wendy looked over at the three of them and saw what Jake had seen; the arm moved...

It wasn't an arm.

"What are you up to?" Wendy murmured.

"Wha- who are you talking to?!"

Wendy closed in a lazy saunter and when she saw movement again, she stabbed deep and true with her 'pointy stick'.

The snow eel (which, slinky though it was, Wendy felt was a stupid name), shrieked writhing on the stick, spurting black blood and tearing the snowman it was hiding in apart.

"I hate this planet," Jake muttered.

"So do I."