A Year Without Santa

Part 7: The Thief of Christmas Island

Elvin stood in place as his jaw fell open. It was making Holly nervous with the way he just kept staring at her without any words.

"E—Elvin? Are you okay?"

The head elf of barn duty said nothing.

Holly bit her lip and twisted the reins that hung from Clarissa's neck as her eyes began to wander. She had to do something—or say something, at least to make sure that Elvin was all right. He seemed to be in a state of shock. But was there even anything left for her to say, anything at all that would make things better?

Saying more would only make things worse, her subconscious informed her.

As she tried to think something, of anything, her eyes landed continually on the reindeer. Every one of them had been thoroughly inspected by the elves; this much was apparent. They knew what to look for in reindeer, while Holly did not. They knew what they were doing, while Holly did not. It was also evident that elves knew better than Holly because Holly knew no better, which explained why she was staring around at all of the freshly groomed and inspected reindeer, whose coats were gleaming with pride. She took note of how Clarissa was a little on the short side as she looked herself in the eyes again within the polish of those collar bells, polishing them more so as a distraction from her lack of elf-reindeer care knowledge.

Holly and Clarissa were the same height, albeit too short for riding.

But Orion? Orion was perfect.

She now looked across the back of Clarissa to where Orion was resting in his own stall, his name plate tacked to the front of the stall door in frilly white lettering that read ORION, with his face peering out from behind at Holly. Holly left Clarissa's side then at his longing expression and found the food supply cupboard, taking down an apple before wandering over to where the reindeer's stall stood, just on the opposing side of Clarissa's own. He snorted in greeting when the door opened so Holly could let herself inside. He knew why she was there and what exactly it was that she had for him—

—except that he did not know of her intentions.

As she pet his nose and held out the apple, his neck stretched out to reach for it. And as he did Holly pulled away, her feet sliding in their boots on the freshly strewn straw. They were making gradual progress for the open barn doors as she let him nibble from the apple here and there with every few steps they took until there was nothing left but a core, and then before she could change her mind she found herself throwing a faded child's saddle meant for a pony over his back, swiftly rearranging his harness and reins.

It wasn't until she was straddling Orion's back that Elvin finally came to and, as he did, it wasn't what she expected.

"Mr. Kringle said that you are forbidden from riding until further notice!" The elf's face had flushed in desperation, but this did not deter Holly as she reached into her front coat pocket and pulled out the snow globe much to his amazement. "Where did you get that?"

"From Snowdrop. Who else?" She smiled with pride. Pick-pocketing had become one of the few things she was good at but this had been taken directly from the elf herself. "Besides, what's it matter who this is from?"

"It matters because this is thievery, Holly, and so unlike you."

"It's for a good cause, Elvin; and if you don't let me go then I am letting my mother know."

"Know what?"

"I'll let her know that I saw you trying to enchant the barn to do the elves' dirty work." She smirked. "And you know her stance on doing chores for yourselves, says it builds good character."

The elf's ears burned in heated embarrassment at that because he had been trying to enchant the barn into doing the chores itself, albeit it failed because their magic was dying.

"So what will it be?" Holly asked smugly, tossing the snow globe up and back down to catch it.

Elvin turned red now in distress until it soon after dissolved. He was no stranger to Holly's antics, moving close enough instead so that only she could hear. "At least let me know where you are running off to?"

Holly glanced to make sure the other elves were still busy before leaning down to whisper to Elvin as Orion was taller than Clarissa but short enough for her to properly ride. "I'm going to save the magic of Christmas Island."

"You don't mean the—"

"United States? Yes," she whisper hissed. "Shhh."

He shook his head and opened his mouth to protest but knew better than to say anything more. The elf held up a finger instead before disappearing for a moment back into the barn and ducking into the extra stall they used for storage. When he returned, he was not empty handed. In his hands he held a thick leather journal the same color as the smooth, polished finish on her father's sleigh, of which he held up to Holly.

"This," whispered Elvin, as she took it from him," is where we keep record of those who still believe in the magic of the holiday season. Its bound with elf magic so that history writes itself as it happens, but . . ."

"But the pages," she astonished, flipping through it. "They're empty."

"The magic is dying, and it's up to you now to rekindle it." He looked away. "Unless. . ."

"Unless?" She paused. "Oh."

Elvin dismissed the thought with a wave of his hands. "It's better to go alone. Elves cannot be seen outside of Christmas Island. No one is supposed to know that we actually exist or else the spirit of the season could be ruined."

Holly understood.

It was the same as believing in Santa Claus. If you believed, you believed.

"But Orion is enchanted so you won't be alone." The head elf of barn duty bounced on his toes and smiled wryly.

"Orion is my companion and best friend, I'll be okay," she whispered. "And so will you. I'll rekindle their fires and bring back the spirit of Christmas."

Holly tucked the magic-bound journal safely into the pockets of her winter coat before taking hold of Orion's reins and clicking her tongue, setting him off into a trot. As the pair progressed into the distance, the more their silhouettes faded until they were nothing but a small gust of snow caught in the wind.