Cutty was about to have a good laugh at Sophie Newell, a thought which had interrupted his previous one about being back with his dad for the winter holiday in Canada. And maybe envisioning the landscape of the resort they'd visit would help. It was the wrong vision, however and large starry-shaped leaves began to pour forth from his cloud. Only a few at first, though soon enough it looked as though he had just stomped into someone's recently raked pile of them.

This was a departure. Certainly. Stupid Sophie Newell broke his concentration and it was all her fault. "Finite!" he casted, putting an end to the autumn leaves of red and gold. He held a moment of silence staring up at his cloud. "Stiricidium Nubila!" He held his wand steady and his mind tightly wound around the scent and feel of snow. It was possible. His large, almost buggy brown eyes watched the cloud until nothing seemed to come forth, then he felt it. A cold drop of ice, in a delicate enough measure to have melted almost upon contact with his cheek. He recognized that feeling. Snow.