They are the ones that challenge me. I am the one that challenges them. Four snowy hills sloping up and sloping down. Four who are inhabited by laughing beasts with runners crashing down their solid slippery slopes. Four steep snowy hills as others pass around them, but as I try to conquer their incline I must constantly dodge everyone of their attacks.
Their tricks are frustrating. They send each wave of attackers down their runway and reload with boots on the ground. They speed up and speed down and sharpen their blades with the hills’ thick ice.  Each time as I think they’ve run out a new wave approaches. This is how they tease.
If a warmth of sunshine were to shine on the beaten battlefield they would turn into thick gobs of mud, like an avalanche of mud, covering their battlefield and their soldiers would abandon them. Slip, slip, slip, I plummet down their slippery slopes. They disintegrate.
When I am too full of energy too and of excitement then it is I who envy their power.  I gaze upon their peaks covered with snow and see their men armed and ready, drilling and practicing their mission. Four who freeze and forget. Four who stand but do not actually stand in their own way and my way.