Be Not Afraid
I meet him at the battle field on a snowy day.
"Are you sure you want to challenge me?" Lawrence Raeburn smirks, removing his mittens. He shifts into battle stance, feet slightly apart. It is a subtle change, but I can see it. Despite his bluster, he is prepared to win. Or he thinks he is.
"Yes," I reply simply, my voice steady. I am confident. I know I can take him; I have dueled dozens of other champions, only to be disappointed by their inadequacy. The only question is whether it will take me five minutes or ten. Raeburn is the last, the Extreme Snowballing World Champion 2008. He thinks he is invincible in his camoflage wind-breaker, but green and brown will not disguise you in a field of white. Once I finish him, I will claim the title.
"Then let the duel begin!" he says. Right on cue the wind starts to blow, hard, transforming snow into a tornado. It rises from the ground and spins around us, separating us from the onlookers. It's too thick. I can't see my sister, wearing the stiletto boots that cut her feet (even though she'd never admit it). I can't see my aunt, clutching her cross and muttering psalms. I can't see my nephew, or my cousins, or any of Raeburn's supporters, even though I know they're there.
But the moment of hesitation has cost me. Raeburn has been packing, and starts pelting me so fast I can't hardly think right. Snowballs, each a perfect sphere, one after another after another. I have to flee behind my fort of snow. While I catch my breath, I try to remember the foolproof strategies that Sensei has taught me.
Sensei was employed as my teacher, but he is much more than that: my advisor, my protector. My confidant. Five years have passed since I left home to train with the most renowned snow-baller in the land, and in those five years I grew from a spoiled, eleven-year-old boy into the man I am today. I am his best student, the one who runs an extra mile every morning, who aims with the utmost precision, who wiped his forehead with cool cloths as he lay dying.
He who strikes the first blow admits he has lost the fight. It always took me a day and a night to work out Sensei's advices. They were never straightforward - he always said it was important to train the mind as well as the body. You will need to think quickly and logically, he said. I can hear his voice, soft and hoarse, as clear as if he were crouching beside me. Even beyond the grave, he is with me. I need to win.
Be not afraid of going slowly, be only afraid of standing still. He would not be proud of me now, hiding in my makeshift shelter. It's about to disintegrate, anyway. I can feel it shudder every time my opponent's snowballs hit the ground. I close my eyes and breathe slow. In, out. It is hard to clear the mind when you are sweating through your down parka. In, out. Concentrate on the battle.
"Daniel!" Raeburn calls, and I am not aware that we are on a first-name basis. I can hear poison in his voice, no doubt he has taken this chance to rearm himself. I have to get out there, and fast. I need to win.
After packing a few weapons, I run out from my shelter. Three snowballs immediately hit the ground right behind me - I keep running, dodging hit after hit. He's getting frustrated now, I can feel it, but once he uses all his ammunition, I can attack. And he's not as fast as I am. Now, I'm running in a wide arc, circling my enemy, getting further away and then closer towards him. He's always in my view. I focus on the weapons in his hand. Bam! Snow pounds the earth all around me.
Running is only temporary but it's the only thing I can think of, I can't stop and arm myself or he will kill me. Despite my excellent endurance, my legs are beginning to tire, and he can tell...I need to slow down. A bullet grazes my ear. I feel the blood trickling down my cheek...it warms my face and drips down past my collar onto the shirt that my sister bought me. She'll be angry. Raeburn is anticipating my movement now that he knows where to aim. I should slow down: my muscles are burning and my lungs screaming for air. Instead, I zig-zag across the field so he cannot predict where I'll be. Sensei taught me that.
And then, just as suddenly as it began, it stops. I know that Raeburn has run out of arms. Everything is quiet: no screams from the audience, no wind whipping at the snowballs, just my ragged, irregular breathing. He stands still for a moment, wavering, not sure whether to rearm or dodge my bullets. He sees that I am still running and bends down for more snow.
And that's when I hit him.
It's like all the energy that I lost has come back to me, flowing through my veins, everywhere in my body, igniting at the tips of my fingers. I start out slow, one snowball splatting angrily on the back of his head. Then they come faster and faster and I can barely pack them quick enough. He is covered in it, snow dripping from his massive shoulders and forearms. He's a big guy but I'm swift. I keep pelting him until he raises his hands in defeat, still kneeling on the ground.
Victory.
Edited again! Thank you to all who reviewed, you were tremendously helpful! For the contest. (I'm still open to suggestion, by the way, hint hint.)
No need to fear, the deadline isn't until March 21! That's tons of editing time. 
This story was so creative! I read the contest rules, and I think it's such a good idea to do a snowball battle rather than a regular blood and guts one. I think it's a good idea, and a fun story.
