Snow-Volley, Part 3

A pack of hyenas. 

A pitiless, starving, ravenous pack of rabid hyenas. That's what they were. Did I mention pitiless? Can I change that to merciless? Whichever one works better as an insult. That's what they were. 

Now that they were out of hiding, their grand scheme revealed in the open, they went all in with the execution. The speed, the franticness, clothes catching on branches, pricked by bushes and the evergreens trampling desperately on through. 

The fastest pace the two of us could manage, and yet like hyenas, laughing maniacally, hounding frenetically, the trio of blurred colors continued to keep up, continued to pounce, balls whizzing across the air with barely a break between volleys. 

And their intent was as clear as day, hurled relentlessly at our faces in a streak of bright blue. Over and over again. Suffice it to say, and please forgive my language, but I've never been more blue-balled in my entire life.