The Gift of Giving

by Comma Typer

Good Morning...

Seconds of silence, of nothing. The lull stayed forever, keeping him hanging. A mental image of an empty staircase, waiting for the next scene to happen. He could smell mixed whiff of mint and coffee lingering in the air.

These snapped Yitterby back to reality, back to this time of rest and anything that didn’t involve adventures, drama, or otherwise stress. No more story words to hear from a reindeer. A shake of his head and a few blubbering notes, the yak had fully pulled himself out of the tale in his head.

Bori’s smile creased, compounded with a slight downward turn. She crossed her forehooves on the table.

“I... I hope you get it,” she said softly. “I mean, I hope you really get it. The stories may be real, may be fake... well, our story is real. But whatever you call it: The Caribou Carnival, Hearth’s Warming, your own Snilldar Fest... you see that giving gifts won’t always be easy as buying them from the gift shop, but it’s those hard-earned gifts that really count. Whether it’s a trek through a barren wasteland to buy some one-of-a-kind rarity, or, better yet, a cherished friendship cultivated over the years and decades—and I mean real friendship, not the kind that disappears when the weather’s no longer fair—” she put her head down, rubbing her nose before continuing:

“What I mean is: What does the gift mean? The average creature would think medical supplies, soup, a spare wheel, and a talk aren’t valuable gifts... but to the creatures we want to help, they mean so much more than what they are on the surface.” Her smile shrunk into something more genuine, more sincere. “You were looking for the best gift ever, or how to give gifts in the best way ever, no? Knowing what your gifts mean to them... that’s our advice, our piece of wisdom.”

Yitterby’s first reaction to this was blinking. It clicked in his head. Interest became stark awakening in his eyes with their now tiny irises. “I... I...”

“Cake’s ready!” shouted Alice.

The door opened, and Alice and Aurora came out, bringing forth a simple white cake with dozens of sugar strands scattered on the frosting. It had a teeny little candle for the mighty big yak.

“I hope you enjoy it!” Alice said, levitating the cake to the table. “You’ll be tasting the world’s zeroth white cake with sprinkles!”

“Zeroth?” Yitterby and Bori asked at the same time; they turned to each other and giggled awkwardly at their own responses.

Alice rolled her eyes. “Duh! The first won’t be made until another hundred years!”

Bori rolled her eyes back at her. “Well, after enduring that long story of ours, the yak deserves some cake.”

She levitated the cake closer to Yitterby, now inches away from his watered mouth.

“Bon appetit!”

---

After the hearty dessert, Yitterby didn’t spend much more time with the reindeer. They noticed that he hadn’t talked as much after the story than before. Aurora chalked it up to sober contemplation: that sort of thing was bound to happen after hearing a tale at the end of an arduous trip through tons of snow and a generous serving of hardship.

He also helped clean the dishes. At least Yitterby was true to his word.

When all was said and done, Yitterby prepared to leave the lodge for the journey home. The reindeer had furnished him with a heavy bag of supplies: plenty of food and water with hopefully enough leftovers, and ample spare carpets for his back to keep him warm.

The door to the outside was open. Nighttime revealed itself in the clear violet sky, the snowstorm having had subsided. The ground of snow had grown an inch or two, but it didn’t seem too bad if the little clumps of snow that’d invaded the lodge were of any indication.

It was only Yitterby and Bori again, standing by the door and on the threshold between light and dark, between warmth and cold, between safety and danger. Aurora and Alice had stayed upstairs, getting a head start from Bori at wrapping gifts.

Bori looked at him, Yitterby staring out at the endless void of moonlit snow.

“What’s going on?” the reindeer asked.

Yitterby sighed, his breath turning into vapor which floated away into the sky, dispersed into nothing.

“Yak... brooding over reindeer story.”

Bori lowered a brow and maintained her smile. “Well, aren’t you excited to tell it? You did say you wanted to tell your friends and family a story, and that’s a real story!”

Yitterby nodded. “Yes, with changed details for reindeer safety, as pink reindeer said.”

“Thank you. I wouldn’t want a mob of greeds come over here and take gifts by force.” Bori’s smile then faded. “But what’s wrong?”

Yitterby tapped the wooden floor, nervous that way. “Maybe yak scared with story. That story maybe drive prince for search for magic reindeer for no good.”

“So what?” she countered, furrowing her brows and glowing her antlers. “He doesn’t know how to get here without a map.”

Yitterby gave her a sad grimace “Yak want to meet nice reindeer again, but yak need map.”

“Then write it when there’s a new, better prince,” Bori suggested. “Anyway, I’m sure he isn’t that bad if he’s not being shouted at on the streets.”

That gave the yak a spark of hope and reassurance. That spark was snuffed out right after, judging by Yitterby’s immediate frown.

“It’s deeper than your prince, isn’t it?” Bori asked.

Yitterby sighed, giving the outside air more vapor to work with. “Most yaks very proud of number one at everything, even if not true. Yak feel like only yak not so proud and know truth. If yak tell reindeer story and lesson to Yakyakistan, yak maybe mocked and laughed at.”

Bori pat him on his massive, hairy, carpet-laden back. “I say, do your best. If they don’t accept it, leave it be; it’ll be up to them by then, not you... and I’m sure there’s at least one yak who thinks like you, isn’t there?”

Yitterby shared Bori’s smile. “Pink reindeer right. Pink reindeer very right.”

Bori let it out with a sigh of her own. She looked ahead, saw the dark silver landscape before the yak.

“So, I guess this is the time for a hug, right?” she said.

Yitterby shook his head again although he couldn’t shake the anxious smile on his face. “Yak not sure of hugging.”

“Alice told me it’ll be scientifically proven to be healthy, so...?” Bori chuckled at herself. “The thing is, you’ve made it this far without anyone by your side. You might as well get a hug; you probably won’t be seeing anyone else for quite a while.”

A few moments of yak hesitation later, Yitterby hugged her. He did his best not to squish her with those gangly muscles; it did feel weird to hug so lightly, though.

They exchanged farewells and goodbyes. Before he knew it, Yitterby was back on the path, feeling the cool of winter brushing on his hair not as a raging and vengeful storm but as a pleasant and favorable breeze ready to help him back to Yakyakistan.

The door closed, and Bori was alone in the living room. She breathed one more sigh, that of relief, and took stock of her surroundings.

There was still so much to do for the night. She remembered it was still early in the evening, but with so many things to wrap and package as gifts here and there and everywhere in the living room, she had her work cut out for her. At least she had Aurora and Alice who would come down to have a fun time working in this spacious place.

“That was really nice of you.”

“Agh!” and Bori whirled around, only to see Presents inexplicably by her side.

She chalked that up to just spirit things.

“Yet t o Come told me you’d have to get finished soon,” Presents said, wrapping a clock in gift wrap. “She and Past are already upstairs. I think they can last until midnight for this one.”

“And you?” Bori asked.

The spirit moved her tail around and wrapped a barrel of spices in gift paper. No hooves, not even her mouth; just her tail. She flourished the act with a cross of her forehooves.

“I’ll just enjoy it while I can,” she said.

“Of course, you will.”

Presents grabbed her by the neck, bringing her into one of her signature half-hugs; she had learned to tone it down and not squeeze the life out of her friend.

“By the way, I just had another idea, Bori!”

The reindeer gave her a curious look. “What is it?”

“I’ll give you a hint.” Presents moved her forehooves around, performing some crude charades with them. “You’re going to visit Rennefer last... is that correct?”

All signs of Bori being quite OK broke away. She stepped away, silent. She wasn’t sad, but remembering their return to Rennefer, though brief, was a burden of a thought to bear.

“Well... what about you pay a certain someone a very especial visit? And I don’t just mean give gifts in secret—no, no, no!” She wagged her hoof at her. “I mean a real visit!”

Before Bori could say anything about it, Presents cut in: “Don’t you worry about it for now! That’s Yeti’s problem until it’s here.” She hopped away to the stairs once more and beckoned Bori to follow. “Won’t be any gifts to give if we don’t make them! Come on!”

The reindeer took comfort in that. At least there was work to distract her from that watershed moment.

---

It was an eventful night of preparation after everyone moved downstairs to wrap the rest of the gifts together—the reindeer and the spirits sharing stories, jokes, and trivia about whatever passed in their streams of thought.

Plenty of things got wrapped: jars of fresh pinecones, a bottle of a dragon’s clipped toenail, an assortment of stringed instruments, a dozen shiny gems, some hoof- and homemade dolls, a couple warm sweaters and hats and scarves, a collection of books and scrolls, exotic fragrant flowers perfect for a lover...

Time elapsed as a rushing waterfall in the rapids. Soon, it was an hour before midnight.

By then, they had gathered the gifts into a pack of sacks. It turned out there was too many gifts for the reindeer to bear on their own, so, with the spirits’ help, they built three sleighs thanks to the nearby pine trees and their willingness to lend their wood to the cause. The newly-minted vehicles appeared inelegant, but they were sleighs nonetheless which should do the job.

Almost an hour later, Yet to Come and Alice pushed together, grunting for the final sack to get onto her sleigh. One thud! later, and it was done. With the sleighs parked in front of the lodge and loaded with all those gifts of varying sizes and colors in just their boxes alone—with all that, it was really done.

Under tonight’s light and dainty snowfall which was a balm after the earlier storm, the reindeer took one long look at the spirits, all their work about to be capped off: Past’s sweat shone under the moonlight even with her translucent appearance, and her clothes were ruffly to boot. Presents’s hair was frizzed and frazzled, but that didn’t stop her from wearing one of her big smiles for the occasion. Yet to Come, on the surface, remained unaffected by the level of labor she’d dedicated to those gifts, but if one squinted past the cloak’s shroud, her baggy eyes would beg to differ.

“So, you’ll be OK out there?” Presents said, trotting to Bori’s sleigh and feeling the sacks lying there.

“We’ll be OK,” she replied.

Presents spread her forehooves wide, struggling to stand on her two hindlegs. “One more thing for you all: group hug?”

So everyone, reindeer and spirit, wrapped their forelegs around each other and joined in one huge embrace. Did the winter make the hug any warmer? Certainly: against the cold, they still had each other.

They let go, removed themselves from each other. The reindeer headed for their sleighs and hooked themselves up to them.

“It’ll be good to see them again,” Aurora said, lighting up her pair of antlers and shining some blue over the white snowy ground.

“But don’t forget all the other cool creatures we’re gonna end up meeting along the way!” Alice reminded, her antlers lighting up, too. “We’re going to visit cities full of ponies—and, ooh! We’re paying a visit to that griffon town, too, right?”

“It’s Griffonstone,” Bori answered for Aurora, her antlers the last to light up, “but that’s hours ahead. Now, we’ll do a final check.” She cleared her throat as harshly as she could, ensuring beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’d be heard loud and clear. Then, she began: “Alice, you got all your gifts?”

“All right here!” Alice yelled, pointing at her sacks stacked behind her.

Bori turned to Aurora. “Ready with everything?”

“I was already ready!” Aurora shouted back.

Bori couldn’t help but shake her head at the elderly cow’s tiny defiance, but that could wait or be dismissed. Now, she looked ahead, facing the vast expanse of snow on the ground and of stars and moon in the sky.

“I’m missing nothing and prepared. Let’s go!”

And they were off, accelerating into a gallop and speeding farther away from the lodge’s solace. Antlers all glowing into a bright intensity, their hooves touched the ground one last time, and they flew.

Before they disappeared into the horizon with gift-filled sleighs in tow, they waved at the spirits back on the ground. A minute later, the reindeer went out of sight, blending in with Hearth’s Warming Night.

---

It was fun being Saddle Klumps. Or Saddle Klumpses.

Their first and most major stop was Equestria basking in all its vast renown. The brash avalanche-worthy climate of the Frozen North had given way to a winter more tolerable to ponies’ thinner coats, but snow was still a cold blanket for them.

They went through a great variety of villages and cities; from aspiring hamlets to sprawling boroughs, they visited as many as they could. The novelties of pony society amazed the reindeer guests: the humble hay-thatched cottages, the grandiose stone castles, the colorful diversity of swaying flags, the array of strange new aromatic Equestrian flowers, the familiar yet different wooden carts and wagons—and there were the ponies themselves. However, the reindeer only had so many hours in a night, so they didn’t stop to fully enjoy the sights.

It was late enough that it was early: many ponies were asleep by then, dozing off in their beds with not a care in the world. Against this blue halcyon backdrop, the reindeer—with a sack or two slung on their back—went their separate ways for each town, leaving their sleighs parked in an alley or on an unassuming rooftop a pegasus would likely neglect.

Next, the reindeer entered the houses, whether they were cottages, bungalows, apartments, or manors. When a chimney was available, they flew into it and landed with silent tread; when there wasn’t a chimney, they entered through a side- or backdoor which their magic unlocked for them. Alice mused on whether this counted as breaking into someone else’s house and was therefore a crime, but she justified it with her gifts. She also considered the foals themselves, some of them so imaginative that they left milk and cookies on the table for Saddle Klumps. Alice gladly gobbled the milk and cookies she came across.

The act itself was simple: get the right gift from her sack—she’d know which one—put it down under the Hearth’s Warming tree or wherever else, and do it all without waking anypony up. But with each delivery done, a beautiful vision graced Alice in the back of her mind. The nuances and details of each were different, but she saw the poignant similarities: a foal opening her gift, joyful screaming at the glorious reveal. Tears of joy and passionate shouts that Saddle Klumps was real. The parents also receiving their own presents in the ruckus, unable to explain how they got them—and giving some silent thanks to whoever had given the gift, with a few going so far as thanking the fantastic Saddle Klumps himself.

One delivery in particular Alice would remember fondly was when she went into one of the stately chateaus of Canterlot. For all the town’s sophistication and fanciness, it endeared her to see a noble’s filly lying on the sofa by the holiday tree, a few gifts already lying under it from supposedly her friends and family. Alice saw the plate of cookies and milk by the table, and she licked her lips, ready to gobble them up. When she approached the plate, she saw what the filly had drawn there with the crumbs: a picture of her family awash with smiles, hanging out with one fat pony, presumably Saddle Klumps.

Maybe the filly was expecting the legend himself, hoping she’d stay awake for the occasion. The drool dripping from her mouth tore that hope into pieces, and she didn’t know it.

In a flash, they were finished with Equestria. Thus, they proceeded to other places: Griffonstone in their descent from glory, Mount Aris with their ridiculously high altitude, the Dragon Lands flowing with fire and lava and hot air... they even sent a random gift to a changeling in the Changeling Hive (though they didn’t really visit it so much as they threw it to the hive and hoped they didn’t disturb any love-hungry creature).

In a matter of hours, they were almost done. Flying across the sky back northward, they could see a gradient of pink in the distance. It was the herald of the sun and the incoming day, about to usher in twilight before the dawn. Still, there was one more place to visit and shower with gifts:

Rennefer.

---

The village of Rennefer busied itself with its holiday sleeping.

It was technically the last day of the Caribou Carnival. It wouldn’t really start until everybody woke up, but the carnival’s looming end already had specters in the air: there were fewer lights and lanterns on for the event, the decorations had been diminished to scant obscurity, and almost no one was outside either enjoying the remnant of yesternight’s celebration or getting an early lead on today’s joyful agenda.

The reindeer had planned to solve the problem of the city’s gate by flying over it—it wouldn’t open to anyone when no deer was awake, probably much less to them. However, warm recollections of home disappeared into surprise when they saw the unobstructed archway, the open gate. Caution filled their minds, so they still went above the walls; they didn’t want some graveyard shift guards to ruin the moment.

Now, Aurora, Bori, and Alice had returned to Rennefer, hovering over their old village with a bird’s eye view. Not many artificial lights were left, but the residents of Rennefer didn’t need them now: the slightly brightened violet-pink sky cast a dark yet dreamy hue over all the town. The roads glinted with that color, and the marketplace, devoid of anyone save for the occasional guard, had the hue permeate every nook and cranny of the stalls. Really, save for the extremely early risers shoveling snow out of the streets for the rousing public later, barely anyone was up.

“Wow...” Alice muttered, mane flapping with chilly high-up high-speed winds. “I didn’t expect the town to be this... quiet.”

“You should’ve, Ms. Future,” Bori replied, nudging her on the antlers with a playful smirk.

Alice rolled her eyes. “Hey, it doesn’t give me all knowledge of the future. Still, though, it’s just so... quaint or whatever you call it.”

Bori and Aurora looked her way. They’d also noticed the quaint quiet of Rennefer. Coupled with the colors not of night but neither of day, the town was a tad unworldly.

With not much time before dawn would come up the stage, the reindeer flew on. Staying out of police’s sight—or anyone else’s sight to save them from a shock attack—Alice pointed at one house in particular, and they swooped down to it, checking that they weren’t making a single swish of noise.

They landed on the snow-laden backyard, some evergreen flowers growing at the sides.

There, they faced the back of this home. It was average-looking, run-of-the-mill for its two-stories kind and not much else. It still had its carnival lanterns on, shining on the backyard with faint green lights.

They sneaked to one of the windows. After laying their backs against the wall and putting their gift sacks on the side, they meticulously raised their heads just enough to see what was inside, trusting that their antlers wouldn’t give them away.

The living room was a nice treat. A few gifts rested unopened by the side; others had just been opened: a nice painting of a snowy landscape, a pretty if fragile vase, a hodgepodge of winsome perfumes, and some book with an antler symbol on it.

Slumping on a chair and gazing at the floor, lay Austral.

Her face spoke of despondency. It’d lost a bit of that youthful glamour, replaced by regretful gloom that stained her features with creases. Her lips formed a frown surrounded by good gifts and a good home, heralding a sorrowful young cow.

She stared at a window, not the one the reindeer were using.

”... why?”

That one word, slipping out of her lips, a frog’s croak in a lonely abandoned swamp.

She clumsily got up from her chair, walked dejectedly to that across the window. Her trip of one melancholic mile and one real room done, she set her eyes upwards to behold the gloaming sky. Stifled illumination cascaded on her face, bringing to light the silent grief on her face. It spoke of guilt, whether true or not.

She put one hoof on the window pane.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry... j-just know I-I’m s-sorry...”

A long sigh from her; it almost choked her. She continued her way without minding the potential pain. Placed her face to the windowpane, peered into the sky, probably hoping a miracle would happen or that she would change.

“... I-I miss you.”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Agh!” and she lost balance, almost tripping to the floor. Her melancholy gave way to terror which brought her hooves to her face. “Oh, no! I’m hearing things now! She can’t possibly be here!”

“Yeah, I can!” said Alice through her window. “Look over here!”

Austral did that. Antlers at first, they rose and revealed the trio themselves.

She shot a forehoof to her trembling mouth, legs shivering. “I-is... i-is that you?! All of you?”

“Sure am, sure are!” Alice replied.

The reindeer disappeared from the window. A second and a jangle later, the backdoor opened to let them in.

No words had to be said. They knew a hug was long overdue, so they dove into one more hug. It was a crushing hug, drowning the four of them in a sea of loving reunion. Its fruit was the little whimpers stuck in their throats, the tiny tears running down their faces and dropping to stain the fresh carpet they stood on. No one wanted to let go.

But the hug had to end, and Austral let go first to take a better look of these three unexpected but certainly welcome visitors. “I-it’s so good... s-so good to see you...all of you!”

“It sure is!” Aurora said, voice muffled by her lumped throat.

Next up for Austral was Bori, and the young cow gasped at her appearance. “Bori! You’re... you’re still wearing the same a-apron from last time!”

“Wait, I am?” she asked, confused.

Bori lowered her head and saw, on her chest, the same cream-colored apron she’d been wearing since the night they’d been banished. “Huh... I am.”

“Wait!” yelled Austral, holding her head together with her hooves, smile distorted to a puzzled expression. “I-I don’t get it! What brings you here?”

Alice stepped forward and wrapped a hoof around her shoulder. “Long story short: we found a strange house in the middle of nowhere, met the literal Spirits of Hearth’s Warming, and got apprenticed to them, so we’re now like that fat bearded pony who goes around giving gifts at night but real.”

The shortened long story made Austral tilt her head, the poor cow immersed in untangling whether the story itself was real or not.

“Yes, that’s what happened,” Aurora said, raising her hoof. “I was there and so was Bori.”

Austral smiled sheepishly. “Wow... that’s a lot to take in... like it’s your new job.” Before anyone could reply or say something to her, she retracted her smile, nervously letting her forelegs sway about. “So... this doesn’t mean you’re staying, d-does it?”

Alice scratched her head, her own nervousness emerging. “W-well... not exactly. We have our own place far up North, and that’s where we’re going to do the thing we love: making gifts and helping others that way.”

Austral’s frown dampened, eyes deepened and heavy, ears falling flat almost to block out every sound in the world. Her head slowly turned to the side. “Oh...”

Bori and Aurora looked at Alice with worried looks, their own ears drooping. Alice answered by nodding back at them, keeping her smile on against the odds.

So she turned to Austral who was likely on the verge of a worse kind of tears.

“We may not have enough time to get back to how it used to be, Austral... but I can always leave something behind.”

She rummaged her short mane, searching for that something. She took it out and gingerly put it on Austral’s forehoof.

A red bow, just like the one Alice wore.

Austral flinched, came close to dropping the bow. Once she regained balance and control, she held the bow close for her eyes to behold. Rubbed it against her face, feeling its soft velvet on her cheeks. When she was satisfied with brushing this bow, she raised her head, Alice now in view.

“Consider the bow as something more than a memento,” Alice said, Bori and Aurora standing at her sides. “It’s a sign that we used to be here, and I know a bow can’t magically bring the past back... but though we moved on to fulfill our passion, we’re still out there and you’re still out here... and we’ll always be out there for as long as we can, and we’ll always remember you for... well, ever.”

Silence reigned in her words’ wake. No one moved for an eon. An unusual tension hung over all of them, this cost of being the first to speak and break the silence. Austral, especially, fought off the desire to speak, clutching the bow on her forehoof. She put it on her chest, over her heart.

They hugged again. Austral closed her eyes, rested the full weight of her head on Alice’s shoulder, had Alice pat her on the back which she took as permission to let the tears flow freely. She couldn’t tell which hoof was whose; all she wanted to do now was cry, let it all out—all this affection out on these rare reindeer...

“Honey?” Thern called from upstairs. ”Is that you?... and, is that sobbing I hear?”

Everyone stiffened, yanking themselves out of the embrace. Aurora and Bori readied themselves to bolt outside, but Alice held up a hoof and stopped them.

Austral massaged her puffy red eyes, smeared with the riverbeds of dried tears. Fighting against the lumps in her own throat, she managed, “Y-you’ll v-v-visit, right?”

“That depends,” Alice said, bringing out an encouraged tone “But that’s a great idea! Let me ask,” and she turned to Aurora and Bori. “Should we visit, say, once a year?”

“In private or can we just waltz into town?” Bori asked, a little concerned.

“Private first,” Alice answered. “I think we’d be getting everyone scared if they’re not used to the random gifts, what with Cervidi still in charge."

“Not really,” Austral chimed in, a little glimmer shining in her eyes. “Cervidi’s not in charge anymore.”

“What?!” the other three reindeer yelled—though they muted themselves, aware of an unaware Thern upstairs.

“I did not see that coming,” muttered Alice.

Austral sighed, preparing herself for the explanation. “They threw the old bull out the window when everyone thought he’d just banished innocent deer. A few guards overheard your conversation, and they thought back to the pony merchants they’d talked with... which, I guess, was a fun time, because when word spread, everyone rallied behind those guards... that the world out there isn’t all that cruel and unkind to us reindeer, after all.”

She paced around for about a few seconds before returning to her original spot, worried her hoofsteps might alert her father to investigate.

“You might’ve not heard, but they actually let in pretty much anyone in the city now—they just haven’t taken the invitation yet because the other creatures are celebrating their own winter holidays... and that’s how things are now.”

“Austral?” Thern called out again, hoofsteps incoming. “Who’s there?”

“Oh, um, n-no one!” Austral shouted up, eyeing the staircase which would grace Thern’s presence. “Just mumbling to myself—ah, you caught me mumbling again!”

Whirling her head back to her friends, she whispered to them, “Go! Bye! I love you!”

And so they said their farewells. The reindeer galloped out of the house, took the sacks they’d left in the backyard. Running out of time before the day dawned, they took off to the sky, ready to give the final batch of gifts to their fellow reindeer

Back inside Austral’s house, Thern had come downstairs. He was sweetly adoring his daughter, curiously staring at the red bow she held in her hoof. “Aww! It’s one of those bows from Alice! You were able to get one from her before they left?”

“Not really,” but Austral mentally slapped herself for that.

Thern raised a brow. “That’s strange. Who gave it to you, then?”

Austral exhibited a toothy grin and looked out the window, making her father look there, too. “Oh, just a special friend. Three of them, really.”

Meanwhile, if she opened the window and sharpened her ears really well, she would hear Alice saying:

“There’s no need to be scared this jolly holiday,
Of crazy fears and risks, of getting hurt with sticks,
For if you close your heart, you’re sure to never find,
The gift of giving and friendship, forever and today.”

Comments

[Venerable Ro]

A good ending to a good story. Well done!

[Emtu]

This really was a very good story, I'm sad to see how little attention it has received. Only 14 votes total, and only 20 people tracking it.

[Comma Typer]

9439081
In a way, I'm very much fine with this one flying under the radar. After the public mess-up of Curiosity, it was a relief to be back to normal. Of course, the egotistic part of me wants views, but I don't want to think about that for now.

Another factor is that it's overstayed its holiday welcome. More than half of the story was written and published long after the Christmas hype departed; Gift wasn't and isn't in season anymore.

[Comma Typer]

9460854
No, they haven't. This chapter shows them using those abilities for the first time.

[Godslittleprincess]

9461304
I know that now.

Great story. How did you come up with it?

[Comma Typer]

9461879
Well, it wasn't just me. Azure Drache helped a lot with ironing out the general idea of a Gift Givers' origin story of sorts. We wanted to see how the Gift Givers got their abilities, how they got their roles, how they got to the lodge... a very distant prequel to the Best Gift Ever special, if you will. I also just wanted to write a Christmas story, and the Gift Givers were a nice excuse to base it off on!

And thank you for thinking this story was worth your time! This story could've only been done by God's grace.