Flim grunted as he and Flam climbed up the branches of a massive tree, heading to the prize waiting at the top.
“I say, Flim,” Flam yelled down, “This is our most cunning plan yet! Stealing the Original Hearths Warming Star? Brilliant!”
“Indeed, brother of mine! The nobles in Canterlot will pay a fortune for it!”
“Of course, you’d have to get the Star first.” A voice outside the branches called, making them freeze.
On a black sled, carried by the skeletons of reindeer, stood a tall, slender figure, clothed in black with bones for hands, and a bare skull for a head.
“I’m afraid that Christmas belongs to Jack Skellington! Better luck next year!” The figure whipped the reindeer up to the top of the tree and pulled the Star into the sled. Flying away, he cackled an eery ‘Ho Ho Ho’ all the way.
“Brother...”
“Yes?”
“What’s Christmas?”