The sight of the outdoors after a fresh snowfall was an almost magical one for many humans, and Magnus thought he could understand why. Snow was a navigational hazard and presented a long list of not-insignificant inconveniences, but seeing a blanket of unbroken white transform familiar ground, muffling detail and sound in pristine, sparkling white... it was just one more of Earth's many wonders. The vista was only marred, if that was the right word, by the presence of the Decepticons.
"All right," Magnus addressed his fellow Autobots, his voice hushed to stay behind their cover of snow-heavy trees, his optics fixed on Galvatron and his small force of soldiers gathered in the field less than a hundred yards away. "We have the element of surprise. Let's not waste it. Beachcomber, Outback, Pipes, you three circle around to the left flank and wait for the signal. Hound, Bumblebee, head into the trees, you'll be able to get closer that way. Rodimus and I will-"
He turned to his young leader and his vocalizer stuttered to a halt. Rodimus had abandoned his position, standing perilously close to the edge of the copse where any of the Decepticons could turn around and see the bright edge of his spoiler. He had a double handful of snow in his hands and was lovingly forming it into a sphere.
"Ohhh, you're not gonna do what I think you're gonna do, are you, Roddy?" Hound hedged.
"He's totally gonna do it," Beachcomber grinned. "Groovy, man."
"Rodimus!" Magnus burst out, incensed.
Rodimus ignored him. He stepped out from cover and cranked his arm back, bellowing, "Think fast!" before lobbing his snowball as hard as he could. His shout alerted the Decepticons' dangerous leader, who whirled, cannon lifting - just in time to catch Rodimus's snowball square in the face.
"Yeah!" Rodimus leaped in victory, laughing as a spluttering Galvatron scraped snow out of his optics. "Nailed you! Ah, slag, that was a perfect shot! Slap me some metal," he declared, holding out his hands. Bumblebee obligingly slapped his palm against Rodimus's in a human gesture of approval.
The other hand was positioned right in front of Magnus; Magnus stared at it, then fixed Rodimus with a flat glare. The youngling had been Prime too long, though, to be intimidated by that look as Hot Rod had been: "Magnus, slap me some metal, that's a direct order," he said. Magnus sighed and obliged, and was rewarded with a brilliant grin.
"Awesome," Rodimus pronounced.
"Uh..." Pipes turned back from where he'd peeked through the trees. "Guys? I think the enemy is preparing for a retaliatory strike."
Magnus's battle subroutines fired up in an instant, expecting to be faced with cannons and laser blasters. What he saw were Decepticons armed with snowballs, Soundwave putting the finishing touches on an impressive snow fort, and all of them grinning in wicked anticipation. At the forefront was Galvatron, holding a snowball as big as his head, hefting it meaningfully.
"Oh slag," Magnus opined intelligently.
It fell to Rodimus to take charge, and so he gave the only order he could. "Autobots, fall back!" he cried, and the Autobots retreated under a rain of deadly Decepticon snowballs flung with vicious, gleeful accuracy.