My Little Pony Monthly Issue 81 (December 1, 2003)


My Little Pony Monthly
A publication of Nematode (Electronic) Publishing
Established June 1997
This Newsletter is Safe for All Ages


To Unsubscribe: mlpmonthly-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com
To View Back Issues: http://mlpmonthly.tripod.com/Monthly.htm
To Contact Authors: http://mlpmonthly.tripod.com/Contact.htm
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Issue 81
December 2003
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Contest!

Hoorah! Check out our list of winners from last month!

*garej* (garej@mylittlepony.fsnet.co.uk)
Berry Brite (swanson@swnebr.net)
Chandra Forshey (ChandraMic@aol.com)
Cherie (travkru1859@aol.com)
Melody (markp@gil.com.au)
Nibbles666 (kakyuuouhi@yahoo.com)

Mr. Kidoo was Miss Hackney’s old beau. For the longest time I called him Mr. Skidoo but recently when I was re-watching the Tales series I realized there was no “S”... what a disappointment for me to find that I’d been wrong all this time!
I am a bit disappointed, however, that the number of submissions dropped so low again. Is everyone scared off by the prizes? Well, you can always opt out of being in the drawing if all you want is the webpage graphic. ^.^ C’mon, I want to keep interest HIGH!
But now, to announce the lucky winner of the Snowflake nail enamel:

Chandra Forshey! Yay! Chandra, please e-mail me your address and I’ll send out your prize ASAP.

Now, what does our box of AVON products have in store for the month of December? Ah, here is a nice holiday item which Gingerbread is all in raves over. It’s gingerbread-scented lip balm! Not only is it a necessity in these cold months of chapped skin, but it also smells nice! Gingerbread gives it her full endorsement. Or, if you’re a guy, you’ll have a chance at a favorite toiletry item of the Big Brother Ponies: Wild Country soap-on-a-rope! To enter the contest, answer the following question correctly:

What cereal had the Baby Christmas Pony/Baby Stockings/whatever-you-want-to-call-her mail-in offer?

Tell me the answer by e-mailing TabbyMLP@aol.com or entering through the form at

http://mlpmonthly.tripod.com/Contact.htm

THE RULES! *ANYONE* can enter. That means anyone as in anyone. Even if you’ve already participated in the past, you can enter; in fact, I encourage you to do so. You don’t even have to be a subscriber of MLP Monthly in order to enter. But if you’re not a subscriber, you’re probably not even reading this. ^.~
However, now that we’ve introduced *real* prizes, we will be putting a limit on how many times you can be entered in the drawing for that. If you’ve already been selected to win one of our prizes in the past, you can’t be entered again– BUT, you can still participate and get your webpage graphic! So just because you’ve won something in the past doesn’t mean you can’t have any fun at all with our contests anymore. And, of course, if eventually all contest participants are ones that have won a prize, it’s fair game for everybody again!
On the contest form at http://mlpmonthly.tripod.com/Contact.htm, you will be able to select your gender so we’ll be able to determine which prize you get. Or, if you’d prefer to be opted out of the prize drawing, you can select that on the form as well. You’ll still get your webpage graphic, however.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Survey!

Just two survey entries... well, at least it’s better than zero! You told us what your families thought of your pony-collecting hobby...

Arenafay (cibifirekitty@cox.net) says...
Well my family had to deal with my older sister and as long as they are in my room and not all over the house they happen to be okay with it.

Pika-Chan (mnjiricek@earthlink.net) says...
My mom thinks it’s cute that I still have all my originals and that I still collect- after all, she has a huge collection of Beanie Babies! My dad grins at me when I get a new one in the mail, but is confused about the concept of customs and thinks I’m spending too much money on those. My brother just rolls his eyes, but is nice enough to listen when I explain all the things discussed on the MLPTP. After all, I listen to his discussions of DDRSTL (a message board for DDR players in St. Louis) and all the newest accessories he’s gotten for his chararcters in Virtua Fighter! ;)

And now we have another survey question to answer!

What’s the best My Little Pony-related Christmas present you’ve ever received?

The URL to enter at is:

http://mlpmonthly.tripod.com/Contact.htm
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Christmas Tale
or
Baby Brightbow’s Christmas
by Melody (markp@gil.com.au)

Author’s note: I was reading Christmas stories from previous MLP Monthlys and decided that I’d try my luck at writing one. It’s kind of influenced by some of Sugarberry’s Christmas fics, so thanks to Sugarberry for inspiration! I hope everybody has a wonderful Christmas! Oh, and please let me know what you think of my story. :)


“She’s here, everyone! Megan’s here!” cried Star Gleamer, dashing through the gingerbread-scented halls of Paradise Estate.

Baby Brightbow turned around and leapt off the ladder she had been balancing on. It was Christmas time in Dream Valley, and there were signs of Christmas everywhere. Delicious scents wafted from the Paradise Estate kitchen– Baby Brightbow sniffed the air and detected gingerbread, fruit cake, and chocolate puddings. Just the thought of all that food made her hungry! It wasn’t just the food that was Christmassy. Garlands of glittering tinsel hung from the ceiling and there was mistletoe above every doorway. Brightly colored baubles decorated the enormous Christmas tree that Baby Brightbow and her friends had been covering in tinsel. And who could forget the dazzling lights of every color of the rainbow that blinked on and off rhythmically?

But Baby Brightbow wasn’t thinking about the tinsel, the mistletoe, the baubles, or the Christmas lights– she was thinking about Megan. It was obvious that her friends– Baby Starbow, Baby Rainribbon, Baby Sunribbon, Baby Countdown, and Baby Leaper– were also thinking about Megan, as all six babies tumbled out of Paradise Estate and into the snow-covered fields. In the distance they could see a blonde-haired figure, dressed in a fuzzy pink overcoat, sitting under a tree that was covered in snowdrifts. Baby Brightbow was so excited that she almost ran through the thick snow.

“Baby ponies!” exclaimed Megan, hugging each one, except of course for Baby Countdown and Baby Leaper. After all, hugging was a sissy thing to do!

“Megan, what’s that?” asked Baby Sunribbon, pointing to a curious object that Megan was holding. Megan held it out so that it glimmered in the winter sun.

“It’s called a Nativity,” Megan explained.

“What’s a na…na…natinery?” asked a very puzzled Baby Countdown.

Megan laughed and told the baby ponies to sit down. “I’m going to tell you all a story about Christmas, okay?” she said, and the babies nodded. “A long, long time ago, there lived a man named Joseph and his wife Mary. Mary was going to have a baby soon, and an angel told her that she was to name the baby Jesus.”

“Angels? Wow!” sighed Baby Starbow.

Megan smiled, but continued her story. “Now, Mary and Joseph had been traveling all day, and they needed a place to stay for the night. They asked at every inn they could see, but all the rooms were taken.”

“Poor Mary and Joseph!” cried Baby Rainribbon.

“Yes,” agreed Megan, “but keep listening… Mary and Joseph came to the last inn they could see and prayed to God that there would be a room there. They were getting desperate, as Mary knew that she would be having her baby very soon.”

“Oh dear! Was there a room at the inn?” inquired Baby Leaper.

“Not exactly, Baby Leaper. You see, the innkeeper told Mary and Joseph that there were no rooms left, except for the stable. Seeing as there was nowhere else for the couple to stay, they had to agree; and the innkeeper led them to a stable.”

“Did the stable have cows and donkeys and horses in it?” asked Baby Brightbow.

“Yes it did, Baby Brightbow. And all the calves and foals and chicks and their mommies watched as Mary had her baby. And she followed the angel’s directions– she named her baby Jesus.”

“Ooh…” breathed Baby Sunribbon, imagining the scene.

“People came from far and wide to see the baby Jesus. Three kings rode on camels and brought the baby gifts. Some shepherds came too and everyone bowed down in front of Jesus.”

“But why?” asked Baby Countdown, a little confused.

“Jesus was their savior. He was God’s son,” Megan answered.

“Who’s God?” asked Baby Leaper, a little embarrassed at not knowing the answer.

“God is very powerful, but He cares deeply for all of us– in fact, later on, He sacrificed his only son, Jesus, so that we could live! And whenever we do something wrong, we can pray to God and He will forgive us. Isn’t that great?” said Megan.

The baby ponies all nodded and smiled.

“And you know what people on earth say, baby ponies?” asked Megan.

The group shook their heads.

“Jesus is the reason for the season! Christmas, that is,” she grinned.

“Jesus is the reason for the season,” echoed Baby Brightbow, under her breath. What a nice little rhyme!

“That was a great story, Megan! But what has it got to do with the… navitny?” asked the inquisitive Baby Countdown.

“The Nativity shows the scene at Jesus’ birth. See the shepherds and the kings? And there’s the star that told the world of His birth,” she said, pointing.

“Ooh, and there are all the animals,” cried Baby Sunribbon happily. “Look, there’s a lamb and a calf and a foal– kind of like us!” she grinned.

“Right!” said Megan, passing around the Nativity so that everyone could see.

“So the reason we celebrate Christmas is because of Jesus’ birth?” said Baby Leaper.

“It sure is,” replied Megan.

“That means that Christmas day is… Jesus’ birthday! Isn’t that right Megan?” said Baby Rainribbon.

“Precisely.”

Baby Brightbow hadn’t the slightest idea what ‘precisely’ meant, but she was feeling more and more excited by the minute. An idea was forming in her brain and she couldn’t wait to buy the perfect birthday present for Jesus…

* * *
“Mommy, what does Jesus like?” asked Baby Brightbow as she nibbled on a gingerbread man.

Mommy Brightbow was rather startled by her daughter’s question. “I don’t know, honey– why?” she asked, a little puzzled.

“Well, I’m going to give Him a birthday present this Christmas,” Baby Brightbow said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, that’s very thoughtful of you! Why don’t you go and choose a present now?” said her mother, who hadn’t really heard the conversation properly, as she had been busy talking to Daddy Brightbow.

“Okay, mommy!” said Baby Brightbow, and off she went.

* * *
Baby Brightbow stared through frosted shop windows. There was the golden spinning top she wanted Santa to bring! But it wasn’t something someone as important as Jesus would like. That was the problem…

As Baby Brightbow passed bookstores and shoe shops and clothing stores and toy stores, she knew in her heart that none of them would house Jesus’ perfect birthday present. Suddenly an idea struck her– it was so obvious! She would talk to Baby Rainribbon– after all, she was the smartest little baby pony in Ponyland! And as if by fate, there was Baby Rainribbon, trotting into the toy shop.

“Baby Rainribbon! Wait up!” called Baby Brightbow, puffing as she caught up with her friend.

“Hiya Baby Brightbow! What’s up?” asked the purple baby pony.

“You know that story Megan told us? About baby Jesus?” asked Baby Brightbow.

“Sure– it was a wonderful tale,” agreed Baby Rainribbon.

“Well, I’m trying to find a birthday present for Jesus, but I can’t think what to get Him,” Baby Brightbow admitted.

“That’s a brilliant idea! But I’m afraid I don’t know what Jesus would want… after all, He is a very important person,” answered her friend gravely.

“That’s the problem…” sighed Baby Brightbow.

“Hey, cheer up! You can help me pick a Christmas present for my little sister,” said Baby Rainribbon with a smile.

The pair had a wonderful time looking at teddy bears and spinning tops and skittles and yo-yos and board games, until they finally chose a beautiful snow-white teddy bear for Baby Rainribbon’s sister.

“Thank you, Baby Brightbow. Baby Yo-Yo will love it!” said Baby Rainribbon, as she paid five jangles for the bear.

Baby Brightbow smiled and said, “Not at all, not at all. I’d do anything to help a friend!”

Suddenly, Baby Rainribbon reached into her mane and pulled out her golden ribbon. She handed it to Baby Brightbow.

“Here,” she said. “This is for all your help!” Baby Brightbow thanked her very much as she tied the ribbon in her own rainbow mane.

* * *
Baby Brightbow trudged along the snow-caked paths until she came to a hill, where Baby Countdown and Baby Leaper were pulling a sled up the slope. They waved and a thought occurred to Baby Brightbow. This was great!

Baby Countdown and Baby Leaper could build a fantastic go-kart in just one day– and win the go-kart competition with it! They could swim faster than any of the other baby girls and boys, and they would probably know exactly what Jesus would want for his birthday.

Her heart thumped as she walked over to the two boys and told them of her plan. Both boys were absolutely thrilled.

“Maybe Jesus would like a go-kart!” suggested Baby Countdown.

“Or a racing car… or, or, or a rocket ship!” chimed in Baby Leaper.

“How about a sailing ship?” Baby Countdown added eagerly.

“Ooh, I know! What about you give Him a tall tree to climb!” said Baby Leaper.

Baby Brightbow loved the sound of these, but where would she get them all? And to top it off, they sounded like things that Baby Leaper and Baby Countdown would like, not things that Jesus would like.

“Thank you for all your help, but I really don’t think Jesus would like those things,” she said, a little disappointed.

“Maybe not… but cheer up! You can hop in our sled and we can zoom to the bottom of the slope!” said Baby Countdown.

Baby Brightbow gasped. “Oh that would be excellent!” she squealed, jumping in the sled.

The three ponies spent a delightful hour in the sled, sliding down the hill (well, there were a few bumps!) and then getting out at the bottom, and dragging the sled all the way back up to the top, only to go rushing down again and again!

Much as she loved playing with the two baby brother ponies, Baby Brightbow knew that the day would soon be over– tomorrow would be Christmas, and there were only a few hours left of daylight. She had to find a present for Jesus now or there would be nothing to give Him on Christmas day! And that would be terrible!

“I have to go find Jesus a present now, okay, guys?” she said, brightening at the thought of the perfect gift.

“Aww, okay then– but come play with us some other time, Baby Brightbow!” said Baby Countdown.

Just then, Mommy Leaper came prancing towards the three little ponies, holding a tray. Balanced on top were three steaming hot chocolates and she offered one to each pony. Baby Leaper and Baby Countdown thanked Baby Brightbow for playing with them, and she set off sipping the hot chocolate, promising to return the mug the next day.

* * *
By now, Baby Brightbow was beginning to worry. Where would she find a present for Jesus?

The answer came to her in an instant– why hadn’t she thought of it before? Almost laughing, Baby Brightbow set off to find her best friend, Baby Starbow– after all, best friends knew everything. She found Baby Starbow at the park, having a full-fledged snowball fight with Baby Sunribbon. She galloped over and the two ponies stopped the snowball fight.

“What’s up, Baby Brightbow? Wanna play with us?” asked Baby Starbow.

Baby Brightbow shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I still have to find a birthday present for Jesus…” she trailed off.

“Oh, too bad,” said Baby Sunribbon sadly. But in that instant, snow began falling to the ground– but not the tiny cool snowflakes they loved– this snow came as fast as it could! It whistled around them as loud as a bell, and sounded to the three frightened babies like a screaming ghost!

“Hurry, let’s get to Paradise Estate– fast!” All three ponies ran blindly to the safety of the huge pink estate they called home. Once inside, they sat at the window seat, watching the snowstorm. Baby Countdown, Baby Leaper, and Baby Rainribbon joined them.

“Did you find a present for Jesus?” asked Baby Rainribbon.

Wiping a tear from her pink cheek, Baby Brightbow said, “No. Now Jesus won’t have the perfect birthday after all!” The baby pony began to cry, the tears spilling down her face. Her friends comforted her, but there wasn’t much that anyone could do to console her.

At that moment, Megan walked inside and the baby ponies crowded around her. Baby Brightbow stopped crying and bravely walked over to Megan.

“Megan, er, how do you talk to Jesus?” she enquired.

“You pray to Him! Like this,” Megan bent to her knees. “Then you tell Him to forgive you for your sins, and… well, you just tell Him whatever you’d like and maybe ask Him for something. Of course, you can’t be greedy,” said Megan.

“Thank you, Megan,” said Baby Brightbow.

“No problem– now, who wants to hear another story?” Megan replied, smiling at her friends.

“Ooh, me, me!” they cried, and Baby Brightbow’s sorrow was momentarily forgotten as she sat down on Paradise Estate’s soft carpet and listened to Megan, while the snow swirled and whirled around outside.

Megan finished her story and kissed each pony on his or her forehead. “Now, it’s time for you to go to bed if you want Santa to visit you tonight!” she told the sleepy little ponies.

They dragged their hooves over the carpet to go to their separate rooms and said goodnight, each secretly dreaming of what they would receive for Christmas the next day. But when Baby Brightbow went to her room she sank to her knees and closed her two front hoofs together.

“Dear Jesus,” she began. “My friend Megan, who is very smart and knows everything, told me that this is the right way to pray. I’m supposed to ask you to forgive me for my sins (whatever they are) so that’s what I’ll do. Will you forgive me for my sins, Jesus? Anyway, I spent all of today looking for the perfect birthday present for you, but I couldn’t find anything. I looked everywhere, Jesus, truly! My friends helped me too, but I couldn’t find anything and I don’t want you to be sad on your birthday, Jesus,” she sighed, trying to think what to say next. “Oh yes, I’m supposed to ask you for something I want! Well, all I want, Jesus, is for you to have a happy birthday tomorrow. Merry Christmas! Oh, and amen!” she finished. Just then, she heard a voice.

“Baby Brightbow, the best presents come from the heart. Your love for Me is the most perfect present of all,” said the voice.

Little Baby Brightbow looked up in awe. “Jesus?!” she said in disbelief, whirling around to look behind her. But the voice said nothing more. Baby Brightbow smiled and ran down the corridor into the kitchen.

Mommy Brightbow was standing with Star Gleamer, Diamond Dreams, Sundance, and Megan. All four adults, and, of course, Megan were singing Christmas carols while they put cupcakes, gingerbread, and cookies into the oven.

“Baby Brightbow! What are you doing up so late?” Mommy Brightbow stopped singing ‘Deck the Halls’ and hugged her daughter.

“Mommy, may I please have a plate and a gingerbread man?” asked Baby Brightbow.

“Of course!” said her mommy. “Are they for Santa?” she said with a smile.

“Nope! They’re for Jesus,” she said, happily. While Mommy Brightbow stared at her daughter, Megan winked at Baby Brightbow, who grinned and winked back!

Baby Brightbow took the plate with the gingerbread man down to her room and took a piece of paper from her chest of drawers. “Dear Jesus,” she wrote on the paper. “Happy birthday– or should I say Merry Christmas? Lots of love, Baby Brightbow,” she wrote.

By then, she was feeling terribly tired, so she crawled into bed and pulled her blankets up before drifting into dreamland with a long yawn.

* * *
“Hooray! It’s Christmas!” Baby Brightbow leapt out of bed and tipped the contents of her stocking onto her bed. There was the golden spinning top she had been wanting for ages! And a new barrette that was shaped like an ice-cream cone. She was about to dash off to the Christmas tree when she remembered the plate she had left for Jesus.

With a gasp, she walked to where the empty plate sat on her writing desk. There was a new piece of paper on it that read, “Merry Christmas, little one.”

Baby Brightbow smiled and scrambled to the window. The snowstorm had turned into a gentle fall of snowflakes, and Baby Brightbow stared at the beautiful blue sky, hugging the piece of paper.

“Merry Christmas to you too, Jesus!” whispered Baby Brightbow, smiling– and she knew that somewhere above her, Jesus was smiling, too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Merry Treat and Baby Stockings’ Surprise
by Steamer (mlplover@myway.com)


Every year, around Christmas, Merry Treat and her baby, Baby Stockings, were very busy. They were making and wrapping presents for all the baby ponies in Ponyland to match all the wish lists that they received.

One year, as Merry Treat was going out to the mailbox to get the wish lists that had come in that day, she found a wrapped gift on the doorstep. Hmmmmm, wonder how this got out here, she thought to herself, thinking that it was for a baby pony. Upon closer inspection, she found out what she thought was wrong. On the tag, it said “To Merry Treat and Baby Stockings, From: All the Baby Ponies in Ponyland”.

Merry Treat smiled and took the gift in to show Baby Stockings. “Look what the baby ponies left us,” she said.

“A gift? For us?” asked Baby Stockings. “Can we open it?”

“No, we’ll wait till Christmas Day like everyone else,” replied Merry Treat. “Besides, we have work to do; tomorrow is Christmas Eve.” She then put the gift in a corner in the living room and got back to work filling the sack with presents for the good baby ponies.

That night they each made sure they got plenty of rest; they knew they’d be up late that night delivering all the presents. They finished loading the sleigh, checked, double-checked, and even triple-checked the lists, making sure each baby pony got his or her wish. That night, with the help of eight special ponies, they delivered the presents to all the houses in Ponyland; and when they got home, they went to bed.

Even thought they didn’t get to bed till late, they were each up early the next morning. Each had the same thing on her mind– what did the baby ponies give them? They went downstairs and into the living room.

Merry Treat said Baby Stockings could open the gift. So she did, and what they saw brought tears to their eyes. Inside the package was a snow globe, showing Merry Treat and Baby Stockings out in front of their house; and a wreath, adorned with little baby ponies, representing all of the baby ponies in Ponyland. A note was in the present as well that said “Merry Christmas from all of the Baby Ponies.”

Merry Treat smiled and hung the wreath on their door, and put the snow globe on the mantel; and from then on, every Christmas, their two special presents would go in the same place.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Twinkle-Eyed Christmas
by Melody (markp@gil.com.au)


Author’s note– Obviously, this story took place before the Twinkle-Eyed ponies had Twinkle Eyes.



Fizzy sighed as she watched the Baby Ponies tumble down the stairs of Dream Castle, all rugged up in snowsuits or fuzzy jackets, ready for a snowball fight. She longed to be out there with them, but knew that it would be best to try and help out with the Christmas preparations. But what could she do? She poked her head around the corner and noticed her friends– Gingerbread, Sweet Pop, and Masquerade– decorating the Dream Castle Christmas tree.

“Hi, everybody!” she said, bouncing over to them. “Can I help decorate the tree?” She picked up a box of bright ornaments and began placing them on the tree.

“Uh, okay, Fizzy, but please be careful!” said Sweet Pop.

At that precise second, Fizzy tripped over a shiny red bauble. “Whooooaaaaa!” she squealed, toppling into the Christmas tree. The sudden force of her body weight against the tree caused it to wobble slightly. Fizzy hurriedly untangled herself from the tinsel and took a step backwards. Masquerade, Sweet Pop, and Gingerbread watched in disbelief as the tree swayed back and forth before finally collapsing all over poor Fizzy! The others helped pull the tree up and Fizzy emerged from under its branches, shaking a little from the shock.

“Oh, Fizzy, look what you’ve done!” cried Gingerbread in frustration.

“You’d best get out of here,” whispered Masquerade to her friend, ushering her out of the room.

“B-b-but I want to help…” she trailed off as the door was banged shut in her face. Feeling rather left out, Fizzy trotted off to the kitchen. If she couldn’t help with the tree, perhaps she would be allowed to bake some Christmas puddings. She entered the kitchen and saw Whizzer, Galaxy, and Sweet Stuff putting some trays in the oven.

“Ooh, that looks easy. May I help?” asked Fizzy.

“Sure!” said Whizzer, handing Fizzy a tray of gingerbread cookies.

“Just put them in the oven, okay?” said Galaxy over her shoulder. Fizzy nodded and started towards the oven, balancing the tray. Just then, she noticed that a particularly large star decoration was about to fall from the roof - straight onto Baby Gusty!

“Baby Gusty– look out!” she cried, completely forgetting about the tray she was holding. She dived and pushed the startled baby pony out of the way, just as the ornament landed and shattered into a million pieces. Baby Gusty hugged Fizzy tightly, but Sweet Stuff was not so happy.

“Look, Fizzy! Not only did the ornament break, but all my beautiful gingerbread cookies are completely ruined! Out! Now!” she said, shoving Fizzy out of the room, and slamming the door.

“All I want to do is help…” said Fizzy, sadly.

* * *
That night, Dream Castle was ablaze with the lights of candles, as all of the ponies sat in a circle around the newly decorated Christmas tree singing Christmas carols. “Deck the halls with boughs of holly. Falalalala, lalalala!” sang Fizzy loudly, causing some of the ponies to hold their hooves over their ears. Fizzy felt awful– she couldn’t even sing right.

One by one, the ponies retired to bed, until it was only Sky Rocket, Speedy, and Fizzy, singing a quiet version of “The First Noel”, while the candles flickered and the winter breeze blew them out.

Sky Rocket and Speedy yawned and gave Fizzy quick hugs before climbing the stairs to go to bed. Fizzy waved goodbye to her friends and turned on the Christmas tree lights. She stared at them and admired how they twinkled like beautiful jewels. She gave a yawn and checked the clock at Dream Castle. Oh my! she thought. It was almost midnight– Fizzy hadn’t realized how late it was; and if she didn’t get into bed soon, then Santa wouldn’t come! Although the other ponies thought that Fizzy was slightly immature for believing in Santa, she still had a childish belief that Santa really did come– perhaps it was what, for Fizzy, contributed to the magic of Christmas…

CRASH!

Fizzy leapt up from her place under the Christmas tree. What on earth had that noise been? Her first thought was that it had been a ghost, but even Fizzy didn’t believe in ghosts. But her second thought was something truly unbelievable. No matter how much she wanted it to be Santa, she knew she was being foolish and that he didn’t really exist… or did he?

Her heart thumping so loudly that she thought it would explode at any second, Fizzy crept to the door and opened it, not knowing what to expect. She peered into the darkness and sighed– there was no one there. It had probably just been an animal– why had she gone and gotten her hopes up? It was then that Fizzy heard the noise again– it was coming from the roof! Fizzy could see a dark shadow moving about on the rooftop. It looked to be thrashing quite violently. With a gasp, Fizzy realized that whatever it was, the thing was in trouble! It needed help!

“Are you all right?” called Fizzy tentatively.

“I’m stuck!” cried a voice that sounded terribly frustrated.

“Don’t move! I… I’ll try and get you down!” Fizzy called back up to the creature. But what on earth could she do to help? She dashed as quickly as she could up the steps of Dream Castle, and then hesitated. She was standing at the base of the steps that led to the turrets... only the most courageous ponies ever came up here. After all, it was said to be haunted! A little frightened, but determined to save the creature in need, Fizzy bravely mounted the steps to the central turret, armed with some items she thought may be needed. In her sweating hooves, she clutched a long rope, a pair of scissors, a lantern, and a lump of sugar, in case the creature was terrified and needed some reassuring.

She climbed the staircase step by step, grimacing all the time, until she reached the turret. “Okay, Fizzy, you can do this!” she whispered to herself, then pushed the window of the turret open. She held the lantern out in front of her and flooded the Dream Castle roof with light. “A reindeer?” squeaked Fizzy, as she saw the creature that was in distress.

“Rudolph’s the name,” said the reindeer. “I was with Santa and the other reindeer but the strong blizzards blew me off course and I crashed on the roof and became tangled in tinsel!” said the reindeer desperately.

“Oh, you poor thing!” exclaimed Fizzy, sliding down the roof, clutching the sugar cube and scissors in one hoof, and the lantern in the other. “Don’t you worry, Rudolph– I’ll untangle you!” she said, snipping the tinsel with her scissors. “There! You’re free to go,” finished Fizzy, stepping back to admire Rudolph’s shining red nose.

“Thank you!” exclaimed Rudolph, nuzzling Fizzy. “But what is your name?”

“Oops, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Fizzy. Pleased to meet you,” she replied.

Rudolph stood up and shook the snow off his face. “That’s much better,” he exclaimed, but then let out a gasp of fright. “Uh-oh…” he began, and Fizzy could see the color draining from his face in the lantern’s glow. “Oh no! I’ve lost my bridle!” he cried sadly.

“Oh dear!” exclaimed Fizzy.

“Yes, it is rather sad. You see, the bridle was a Christmas present from Santa last year– it’s studded with precious stones of every color imaginable– there are rubies, sapphires, amethysts; and even a rare, exotic, bright pink jewel that came from a far off country…” Rudolph sighed, and Fizzy imagined the fantastic jeweled bridle. She simply had to see it! And whatever happened, she had to help Rudolph. She wondered what Santa would do if he found out that Rudolph had lost a prized bridle and shuddered at the thought. She hated it when ponies were angry with her and did not wish the same fate upon the poor reindeer.

“I’ll help you find it,” she told him matter-of-factly.

Rudolph stared at her in admiration. “You are a kind pony. How will I ever repay you?” he said.

“No need! Now, let’s find this bridle!” she said as Rudolph flew her back to the door of Dream Castle.

“We can look through the snow by lamp light,” she said, already scanning the ground for a glimmer of color.

“That’s fine by me,” said Rudolph, and the pair set to work.

* * *
Fizzy yawned loudly and closed her eyes for a second. She was so tired, and according to the Dream Castle clock, which she could see through the window, it was 2:00 am. Fizzy longingly dreamt of the soft warm bed that was waiting for her in her nice, cozy bedroom, when she tripped over something.

“Oh dear!” she grumbled sleepily. “When will the baby ponies ever learn to put their toys away?” She bent down to pick up the object, and to her immense surprise found herself looking down at a dazzling kaleidoscope of colors. Their brightness was simply stunning, and they twinkled like the stars in the deep blue sky. Fizzy breathed in and gleefully ran her hooves over each of the jewels that were studded in the bridle. “Rudolph!” she whispered. “I’ve found it! It was hidden in a snowdrift!” she grinned, as Rudolph came cantering over.

“My, my, my! It’s all in one piece! What a miracle!” said Rudolph, snorting in delight, as Fizzy clipped and buckled the bridle onto his snout.

“Rudolph, you look stunning…” said Fizzy, not being able to think of a word to describe the bridle. “It’s… indescribable!” she added with a grin.

Rudolph blushed and his face turned scarlet. “Well, I’d better be on my way. The only problem is... I don’t know where Santa has gone,” he said.

“Oh, that is a problem…” said Fizzy, wishing that Wind Whistler were standing beside her. The logical Wind Whistler would have been able to figure out the answer to the dilemma in the blink of an eye.

“I’m so terribly sorry, Fizzy. I’m such a curse! You shouldn’t have to worry about me. I’ll find Santa by myself. You shouldn’t be burdened with a reindeer like me,” said Rudolph, shaking his head in disgust.

“No, wait, Rudolph!” said Fizzy, as an idea formed in her mind. “We can go and see the Moochick!” she exclaimed. “Come with me…” she began trudging through the snow, but Rudolph stopped her.

“You give me directions, and I’ll fly you there,” he told her. Fizzy was startled but jumped on the reindeer’s back, and wiggled into a comfortable position, holding Rudolph’s reins, which were also jewel-studded. “Hold on!” he yelled above the wind, and Fizzy felt all her worries melt away as she was carried into the air. They streaked through clouds and Fizzy laughed as her mane and tail streamed out behind her. She felt on top of the world– there was no real way to describe flying, but to Fizzy, it was the most wonderful feeling she had ever experienced. She closed her eyes and imagined how wonderful it would feel if she were a pegasus pony, like Sweet Pop or Whizzer or Masquerade…

“Head south!” she directed Rudolph, and he soared like a bird in a southerly direction. “Okay– time to land!” said Fizzy, reluctantly. She had never wanted to stop flying, but knew that Rudolph needed her help.

* * *
“Oh Mr. Mooooochiiiick,” called Fizzy, rapping on the door of the Mushromp rather loudly, forgetting that the Moochick might be asleep. “Are you home?” she called again, but was quieted by Rudolph.

“He’s home. I hear footsteps,” he told her. That moment, the door creaked open, revealing a sleepy looking dwarf-like little man, in a nightcap and dressing gown. Standing next to him was an equally tired-looking hare, who yawned as he let the visitors in.

“Now, ah, let me see… what seems to be troubling you?” queried the Moochick, attempting to stifle a yawn.

“It’s my friend Rudolph. You see, he got lost in a blizzard and he can’t find Santa and he’s in trouble and what if he never comes home, Mr. Moochick? And we really need your help!” Fizzy blurted out.

Mr. Moochick was instantly taken aback. He hadn’t the faintest idea how to solve a dilemma such as this. “Er, indeed… it is a problem,” he agreed, pacing up and down the little room. All of a sudden, the hare began gesturing madly towards the chimney– pointing and hopping up and down in surprise.

“Now really! Whatever is the matter with you?” began the Moochick in a huff.

“Mr. Moochick– look!” cried Fizzy, gasping as they heard a whooooosh! All of a sudden, an enormous man burst into the room– from the fireplace! As soon as he saw the group assembled nearby, he gave a small yelp, and frantically scrambled back towards the fireplace. “I don’t believe it!” said Fizzy, gaping in surprise.

The Moochick’s eyes widened and they almost popped out of his head as he stared at the visitor. “It’s… no, no, it couldn’t be Santa!” he stuttered, but the man nodded. Just then, he noticed Rudolph standing in the shadows just behind the group.

“Rudolph!” he bellowed heartily, rushing forwards.

“Santa!” the reindeer cried ecstatically. Rudolph rushed towards Santa and rubbed his head on Santa’s hand. “Oh Santa, I was so worried!” he began.

“Shhh, shhh… it’s all right, Rudolph. Why don’t you tell me everything that’s happened to you? Let’s start at the beginning,” said Santa, settling into a comfortable red armchair, before the Moochick could even begin protesting.

* * *
“So that’s what happened,” concluded Rudolph, smiling at his new friend. Fizzy smiled back.

“Do you mean to tell me that this little pony untangled you from tinsel, helped you look for your bridle, and took you here to see this Moochick fellow just so you could be united with me?” Santa said, not quite believing the story.

“Yes. It’s exactly what happened,” Rudolph replied to a very astonished Santa Claus. Fizzy gave a yawn. She couldn’t really help it, though– after her long night she was very, very tired.

Santa noticed and grinned at her. “Come with me, little pony– what did you say your name was?” said Santa.

“I didn’t get around to telling you, actually. But I’m Fizzy,” replied the aquamarine pony, as Santa enthusiastically shook her hoof. She, Rudolph, Santa, and the other reindeer, which were assembled outside the Mushromp, waved to the Moochick and his trusty hare.

“Goodbye, Mr. Moochick! Thank you for all your help!” called Fizzy as Santa helped her into his sleigh. With a swish of the reins, the sleigh flew into the star-dotted sky, and Fizzy marveled at the beautiful snow-covered fields and tiny houses she could see below.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” said Santa.

“Oh, it is,” said Fizzy in agreement. “But I think Christmas lights or shining jewels are the most beautiful things of all,” she added, pointing out a tree that was covered in blinking lights.

“Yes, they are,” said Santa, enjoying the little pony’s company.

“Santa, may I ask you a question?” asked Fizzy.

“Certainly,” said Santa, curious as to what the pony would ask.

“Have you delivered presents to everyone on Earth tonight?” she asked breathlessly.

Santa gave a small chuckle. “Why yes, Fizzy– everyone except the residents of Dream Castle, actually! And that’s where we’re headed now, of course,” said Santa. Fizzy nodded and watched as the night sky turned to a beautiful orange-pink hue.

“It’s dawn. Almost time for sunrise,” grinned Santa, and Fizzy watched as the sun rose over the horizon, drowning everything in a pale morning light. The sleigh landed outside Dream Castle and Fizzy dismounted.

“Thank you for everything, Santa, and thank you, too, reindeer!” she said, happily.

“No, Fizzy. It’s my turn to thank you. Rudolph?” said Santa, as Rudolph trotted forward, positively beaming.

“W-W-What’s going on…?” stammered Fizzy.

“Fizzy, what is your one wish?” asked Santa.

Fizzy closed her eyes tightly and thought with all her might. “My one wish,” she said carefully, “is for all of my friends to have twinkles in their eyes– like the jewels on Rudolph’s bridle.”

“Aha– then your wish will come true, Fizzy! But I think I can do better than that.” Suddenly the jewels flew off Rudolph’s bridle and circled over Fizzy’s head. In a dazzling eruption of pink sparkles, Fizzy gasped at her reflection in the Dream Castle window– her eyes were now two glittering pink jewels!

“Oh, Rudolph, Santa, thank you!” she said, flinging herself onto her two new friends.

“Here. Take these jewels. The minute your friends touch one, they will be Twinkle-Eyed too!” said Santa, jumping on the sleigh. Fizzy waved.

“Thank you, everyone– not only for the best Christmas ever– but for the most amazing and wonderful Christmas surprise!” shouted Fizzy.

* * *
“It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas!” The baby ponies were thoroughly excited as they bounded down the stairs. Fizzy shivered with excitement as her own friends– Whizzer, Gingerbread, Sweet Stuff, Galaxy, Masquerade, Sweet Pop, Speedy, and Sky Rocket– came cantering downstairs.

“Merry Christmas, everyone!” she cried, handing out the jewels to the stunned ponies. Within minutes, they were all admiring their new twinkling eyes.

“Thank you, Fizzy! Thank you!” they chorused.

Just then, Gingerbread stepped forward. “Fizzy, Sweet Pop, Whizzer, Masquerade, and I are sorry we yelled at you when the Christmas tree came down,” she said shyly.

Fizzy just shook her head. “That’s okay!” she began, but she was interrupted by Sweet Stuff.

“Um, Whizzer, Galaxy and I are terribly sorry that we shouted at you for ruining the Christmas cookies…” she sighed.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Fizzy, positively brimming with happiness. She hugged each of her friends one by one. “In fact, it’s been a very…” she paused, not knowing quite what to say, then suddenly an idea came to her in an instant. “It’s been a very Twinkle-Eyed Christmas!” she finished and the other little ponies agreed that “A Twinkle-Eyed Christmas” suited the day perfectly.



MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A note from Tabby– You will observe that I made no contribution to this year’s Christmas story. So sad! At least, I’m sad. The rest of you probably aren’t. After all, you just have a thirty page story to read instead of forty!! But I was trying to get my part done, really I was. But I blame it on the late Thanksgiving. It lulled me into a false sense of security that I still had plenty of time after the holiday before December arrived. I was quite unpleasantly surprised to find that it was in fact only three days. All three of which I had to work long hours. Goodbye, Christmas story! Well, in any case, Sugarberry didn’t let you down; and I can revamp mine just as easily into a New Year’s story for next month.



Christmas in Dream Valley, 2003
by Sugarberry (Sugrbery@aol.com)


“This is super!” exclaimed Cockleburr. “I love having snow for Christmas!” The colt and several of his friends were skimming over the ice at the skating rink, a flooded and iced-over plot in the neighborhood to give the ponies a safe place to enjoy the blast of cold winter weather that had held Dream Valley in its grip for the weeks leading up to the holiday.

“Yeah,” agreed Baby Leaper as he sped past Cockleburr. “Catch me if you can!”

This dare was accepted with alacrity by Cockleburr, and the two colts raced merrily across the ice, headed directly for Baby Noddins, Baby Falling Leaves, and Baby Leafy at the far end of the rink. The three fillies were intent on learning a synchronized dance pattern on skates and were completely oblivious of the colts until the two speeding bodies rushed by them with such force that the three girls were knocked into a tangled heap of manes, tails, and legs.

“Oops!” Leaper grinned as he and Cockleburr swooped back to rescue the threesome. “I thought you saw us comin’.”

“Likely story,” grumbled Noddins, who happened to end up on the bottom of the stack. “Falling Leaves, get your mane out of my mouth!”

“I would if Leafy would get off me so that I could move my head!”

“I’m trying. I’m trying,” groaned Leafy, struggling to disengage her limbs from the melee. She smiled gratefully at Cockleburr as he offered her a hoof and pulled her upright. Falling Leaves was then able to extricate herself while Noddins remained prostrate on the cold ice.

“I feel like a ton of bricks fell on me,” she complained.

“We’re not that heavy!” countered Falling Leaves. “Here, give me your hoof.” With Falling Leaves pulling and Leaper pushing, they soon had the filly on her hooves as well.

“Brrr!” Noddins shivered. “The ice made me cold.” She glared at Leaper. “And it’s all your fault!”

“Hey! Cockleburr was chasin’ me!”

“The snow is gettin’ thicker,” noted Cockleburr, an expert at avoiding arguments because of his experience with five younger siblings. “Maybe we should all head home.”

“Mom said she’d make hot chocolate for us,” Falling Leaves announced. “Everybody’s invited.”

“Let’s hurry,” muttered Noddins, “before I turn into an ice cube.”

“That I’d like to see,” Leaper smirked.

The group was out of their skates and on the way to Falling Leaves’ house when Leafy groaned.

“What is it?” asked Cockleburr in some concern. “You didn’t hurt yourself when you guys fell down, did you?”

“No. I wish that was all it is. I just remembered that I left Star locked in my bedroom because Mom didn’t want him pestering her when she was wrapping presents. He always wants to get in the boxes or play in the paper,” Leafy went on to explain, “and makes an awful nuisance of himself. He’ll need to use the litter box by now, so I can’t come to your house, Falling Leaves.”

Seeing the disappointment on his friend’s face, Cockleburr spoke up. “I’ll walk you home, Leafy.” Turning to Falling Leaves, he added, “Thanks for askin’ us over, but my mom could probably use some help with all the kids at home with still so much to get done before Christmas.”

Once Cockleburr and Leafy had turned down their street amidst a medley of holiday greetings, Noddins, Falling Leaves, and Leaper continued on to Falling Leaves’ house, only to meet up with a couple more neighborhood friends, Teddy and Parquet. Those two quickly accepted Falling Leaves invitation to come to her house for hot chocolate; they were nearing the back door when Falling Leaves began to giggle.

“What’s that your holding, Teddy? Your teddy bear?” All the foals stopped to stare.

Teddy rolled his eyes. Would his friends never let him live down that episode? “No. It’s not my teddy bear. It’s not even a bear. It’s a...” He held up the floppy fabric animal and studied it. “... a cat, I think.”

“So you’ve graduated to a kitty-cat?” Leaper taunted, ducking as Teddy took a swing at him.

“I found it. Parquet was there... he’ll tell you.”

“Yeah,” his friend backed him up. “It was just lying in the path covered in snow. Teddy stumbled over it and picked it up when he realized what it was.”

“Some little kid probably dropped it,” Teddy said, frowning. “He might be missing it, too.” Teddy knew how sad it could be to lose a favorite stuffed animal.

“It’s a Puffalump,” Falling Leaves noted. “My baby sister has one, only hers is a dog.”

“Um, guys,” Noddins winced, “my ankle is really starting to hurt where Falling Leaves landed on it. I think I should go straight home after all.”

“Do you need some help?” Parquet asked.

Noddins shivered. “I think I might need someone to lean on,” she admitted. “It’s started to hurt something fierce while we’ve been standing here talking.”

“My house is closest to yours, so I’ll go with you,” volunteered Teddy. He moved to offer his support to the lavender unicorn filly as the snowflakes continued to fall around them. “Merry Christmas!” he called back to the dwindling group of revelers.

“Merry Christmas!” the three chorused in return.

* * *
“The snow is coming down heavier,” observed Sugarberry as she and Vanguard and Banderol neared Woodlawn. “It will be heavenly to get out of the weather.”

“I’m just glad that there are enough ponies traveling today to keep the path readily visible,” replied Vanguard, squinting through the snowflakes to make sure they were headed in the right direction. “Everything looks rather mystical.”

“It’s beautiful,” agreed Sugarberry. “But I’d enjoy it more if we were closer to your parents’ house than we are.”

“It’s not that much farther,” Vanguard assured his wife. “Why don’t I take Banderol again? He must be getting heavy for you.”

“The wetter he gets from the snow, the heavier he seems,” grimaced Sugarberry. She kissed the little foal on the top of his head before handing him over to his father.

Banderol had been little trouble on the trip from Dream Valley to Woodlawn as he had been mesmerized by the snowflakes that had begun gently falling when the family had been only a couple miles out of town; as the morning had progressed, however, the pace of the snowflakes had increased until now they seemed to blanket the countryside under a downy blanket of white. As Vanguard had noted, the path would have been obliterated if not for the number of ponies hurrying to reach their holiday destinations before travel became impossible.

Yawning widely, Banderol nestled his head into his father’s mane, one little foreleg clutched around the stallion’s neck, the other absently tugging at his own ear. Just when Vanguard had thought the little tyke had gone to sleep, Banderol reared back his head and began crying.

“Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” crooned Sugarberry, stopping to massage the foal’s back.

“Key-Key,” the foal, a miniature of his father except for one lock of his mother’s red hair, cried.

“Oh, you want your kitty; Mommy’ll get him for you.” The mare looked up into Vanguard’s eyes hopefully. “Do you remember whose backpack Kitty-Kitty is in?”

“I put the Puffalump in yours as it is almost weightless,” Vanguard grinned.

Slipping her satchel off her shoulders, Sugarberry unfastened the latch and looked inside. “I suppose you stuck in way at the bottom,” she accused, seeing no sign of the purple and white cat.

“No; as a matter of fact, it was the last thing to go in. It should be right on top.”

Digging once more through the items in the backpack, Sugarberry came up empty-hoofed. “Maybe it fell out when you opened it,” suggested Vanguard, searching the powdery ground around his hooves with Sugarberry soon joining him in that activity.

“Key-Key,” Banderol wailed as he watched his parents’ fruitless efforts.

“It couldn’t have buried itself in the snow,” rationalized Vanguard. “It’s too light to even sink in this soft stuff.” He kicked at the mounding snow around them.

“But what else could have happened to it?” worried Sugarberry, casting an anxious eye once more over the immediate area.

Vanguard thought back over the hectic packing they had accomplished earlier in the day. “I put the Puffalump in the backpack while you said goodbye to Fluff and Raptor. Then I answered the phone– a wrong number– and by then you were ready to go... after you latched your backpack.”

“So it has to be in here,” Sugarberry said, rummaging again through her satchel. “Are you sure it’s not in yours?”

“At this point, I’m not sure of anything,” sighed Vanguard as Banderol’s tears grew heavier. He shrugged off his own packback, and Sugarberry gave it a thorough check before admitting defeat.

“Kitty-Kitty’s not here.”

Hearing those fateful words, Banderol struggled to get out of his dad’s forelegs, his crying stopping only when Vanguard set him down on the snowy path. Banderol, without a look at either of his parents, took off down the path leading back to Dream Valley.

“Banderol!” Sugarberry called as she rushed to stymie the foal’s progress. “We can’t go back home to find Kitty-Kitty; we’re almost at Grandma and Grandpa’s.”

The foal gave a credible impression of shrugging his shoulders. “Key-Key.” The look of determination in his eyes was rather convincing as well. He took several more steps on his journey before his father blocked his progress.

“Banderol, just what do you know about Kitty’s absence that you’re not telling us?”

“Key-Key... aw gone,” the forlorn little pony said.

“Kitty-Kitty was supposed to ride in the backpack,” Vanguard said, getting down to the foal’s level. “Why isn’t he there now?”

“Fawl,” the foal said, looking to the powdery ground.

“Sweetie,” Sugarberry groaned, “you didn’t take him out of the backpack, did you?”

The foal shook his head stubbornly in the affirmative. “Key-Key.” He made a hugging motion with his forelegs.

“And where is he now?” Vanguard gently asked.

“Aw gone!” the little colt admitted, his face puckering up as a new batch of tears let loose.

Picking him up and snuggling him close, Vanguard patted Banderol’s back in a useless effort to appease the child and looked at Sugarberry helplessly. “He must have taken the Puffalump out of the backpack when I went to answer the phone. He walked beside us the first mile, so he had to have dropped it way back there.” He waved his hoof in the direction of Dream Valley, sending the snowflakes spiraling in little dance patterns through the air.

“Oh, Bandy,” Sugarberry commiserated. “Kitty-Kitty will be waiting for you when we go home again.” She looked beseechingly at her husband to verify that hope.

“We’ll find him, Banderol. But you’ll have to wait until after we’ve visited your grandparent’s. You can do that, can’t you? Then when we find Kitty-Kitty again, you and he can share all your stories about what happened while you were apart.”

Sniffing back his tears, Banderol heroically nodded his head and once again settled his head on his dad’s shoulder.

* * *
Teddy sat at the kitchen table at Noddins’ house with Noddins, her injured hoof resting on a pillowed chair, and Noddins’ two siblings: her older brother, Harely, and little sister, Bunny. All were having cookies and hot chocolate as Frostflake busied herself readying the house for Christmas Eve company. As the blue mare bustled out of the room, Harely leaned across the table toward Teddy and smirked.

“I never believed those stories about your teddy bear, but it appears they’re true.”

Suddenly conscious that he was still holding onto the squishy, huggable cat, Teddy reddened. “This isn’t mine; I found it over toward Fifth Avenue just lying on the street. Some little foal must have lost it.”

Harely made a grab for the cat and swung it high above Teddy’s head. “I think this is your sleepy-by friend,” the colt chortled.

“It’s not mine!” Teddy reiterated. “But somebody might not sleep tonight without it.”

“Yeah, baby! You!”

Teddy made a desperate reach for the floppy cat, but Harely’s longer forelegs kept him at bay until Frostflake returned to get the broom. “Harely!” she scolded. “Give Teddy his little kitty back.”

“Yes, Mother,” Harely grinned. “Here, Teddy. You and little kitty sleep well tonight... or does kitty stay awake to protect you from all the monsters under your bed?”

“Harely!” Frostflake warned. “You can make yourself useful by sweeping the snow off the front porch and sidewalk.” She handed him the broom. Harely obeyed, but sent Teddy one more sneering glance before he disappeared from the kitchen.

“Let me see the kitty,” said Noddins, stifling a yawn. The warm kitchen, hot chocolate, and the medicine her mother had given her were having a sleepy effect after her vigorous exercise at the skating rink. She accepted the toy from Teddy with a tired smile. “Aww. It’s awfully cute.” She cuddled the kitten as if it were the real thing. “And soft, too.”

“If it is someone’s favorite stuffed animal, there’s going to be a foal crying himself to sleep tonight.” Looking up, Teddy caught a teasing smile forming on Noddins’ face so he added quickly, “I’d guess.”

“Of course, Teddy,” Noddins agreed, then studied the cat some more. “Hey, look, there’s a tiny gold chain around its neck with a...” The filly stopped and looked more closely. “... with a guardian angel charm on it. That’s cool.” She put her head back against the chair and snuggled the floppy cat to her. “I feel so tired.”

“Noddins, you’d better go lie down awhile or you won’t be able to play with your cousins tonight. I’ll help you in a minute. Teddy, it was nice of you to assist Noddins home; I really appreciate that. You and your family have a happy Christmas, now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Teddy mumbled, getting to his hooves and moving toward the door. He took one last look at Noddins who was hugging the cat to her like a long-lost friend and sighed. He would have to leave the cat with Noddins if it brought her some comfort from the pain she was suffering.

But who, he wondered, was needing comfort over losing the cat?

* * *
“Oh! It feels so good to be in a warm house again!” Sugarberry said sincerely as she dried her snow-dampened mane with a fluffy towel; she, Vanguard, and Banderol were now safely encamped at Vanguard’s parents’ home in Woodlawn. Nearby, Floral Breeze had her little grandson enveloped in a white towel to dry him off as well, while Vanguard and Whirlpool visited near the fireplace.

“Snow always makes Christmas extra special, but twelve inches of the stuff is going too far,” remarked Floral Breeze.

“For information’s sake, the weather pony has changed the forecast to accommodate as much as fifteen inches,” Whirlpool reported.

“I’m glad we left home when we did, or we would have had a difficult time getting here,” Sugarberry said, draping the damp towel over a chair and shaking out her locks. “It was slow going as it was.” She smiled at Banderol who was sitting on Grandma’s lap swathed in the downy towel with only his face showing and hoped the foal would be content without his prized Puffalump companion. So far he had been too caught up in his grandparent’s attention to give any thought to Kitty-Kitty.

A knocking followed by the abrupt opening of the front door could be heard in the entry hall, then a booming voice calling out, “Merry Christmas!” A blast of wet, cold air snaked into the parlor, preceding the arrival of Stillwater, Morning Dew, and their two foals: the bouncy three-year-old, Droplet; and the newborn, Cascade. A flurry of greetings were exchanged from all sides.

Meeting her pearly pink sister-in-law, Sugarberry soon had claimed little Cascade to ooh and ah over the precious family addition, while Droplet scampered to her grandmother’s side to reacquaint herself with Banderol; the little colt was overwhelmed for a moment, leaning back into the safety of Floral Breeze’s protection; but he soon became absorbed in his cousin’s chatter. Once Droplet had introduced the colt to the toy box, the two youngsters settled down together companionably.

“Cascade’s seven weeks old today,” beamed Morning Dew as she and Sugarberry gazed down at the sleeping infant.

“He’s beautiful,” Sugarberry acclaimed. “And so tiny! Has Banderol really grown that much in one year?” She looked across the room where Droplet was organizing a tea party... with Banderol undoing all her efforts as quickly as he could, causing the petite filly to stand over him with her hooves planted against her sides and giving him a no-nonsense lecture on proper play etiquette. The mare laughed. “That reminds me of raking leaves this fall– Licorice was helping, but he ended up playing in the leaves with Banderol and undoing all our work.”

“In another year, Cascade will prove to be a ready accomplice for Banderol. Together, they’ll refute Droplet’s domineering tendencies,” Stillwater grinned, flinching slightly as his daughter wrestled a miniature tea cup out of Banderol’s hoof.

Whirlpool went to give the little colt some support, introducing him to several plastic wildlife figures; and those two were soon comfortably setting up a forest scene– with Droplet abandoning her tea party to help.

“Are those the same animals that we played with as foals?” Vanguard asked of his mother.

“Yes; I saved them all these years. I introduce a few of them at a time to Droplet so she remains interested.” Floral Breeze smiled. “They’re all in good shape, except for one wolf that Icon was especially devoted to; he teethed on it.”

“Speaking of little brother, did he and Splotch get started on their journey in time to beat the storm?” Stillwater asked.

“I can only hope,” Floral Breeze sighed. “It’s a long trip to Happy Hollow; heaven only knows what they’ll get into before they get there.”

“I don’t envy anyone traveling,” Stillwater admitted. “We even thought that you, Sugarberry, wouldn’t have braved the weather this year. As a matter of fact, Morning Dew and I brought everything with us we’d need to spend the night... if that works out for you.” He looked at his mother questioningly.

“Oh, what fun!” Floral Breeze nearly bounced. “It’ll be just like old times. It makes me wish that Icon and his bride-to-be would have chosen to spend Christmas here this year, too. We’d have the whole family together.”

“I was afraid we wouldn’t have been able to get out of the house by morning,” Morning Dew said. “And Droplet was bound and determined to spend as much time with Banderol as possible.”

“I wonder if we’ll even be able to make it to church tonight,” Whirlpool mused, leaving the foals to peak out the window at a blustery landscape. A strong gust of wind blasted the snowflakes against the glass, temporarily blocking all sight. “The storm is getting worse.”

In that moment, the sound of the back door being slammed open by the wind caused everyone to jump; Banderol abandoned Droplet to rush to his father’s side, his eyes wide as saucers. “Santa?” he queried is a quiet voice as Vanguard swept him into his forelegs. But the whoosh of air that rushed through the house from the direction of the kitchen carried with it the sound of squabbling voices, neither of which could have been the kindly Saint Nick.

Floral Breeze looked heavenward. “Oh, dear. It sounds like Splotch and Icon didn’t make it to Happy Hollow after all.” She headed toward the kitchen with everyone else following closely behind.

“If you hadn’t insisted that we stop to visit your friend, we wouldn’t have missed our flight!” Icon growled, facing his fiancee with apparent indignation.

“How was I supposed to know that the snow would slow us down so much?” retaliated the magenta mare, her emerald green eyes sparking in return.

“Children, children,” Whirlpool chastened. “It’s obvious that your plans have gone astray, but this is not the time or the place to assign blame.”

“I’d think you’d both be grateful to be out of that awful weather,” Floral Breeze added, moving to fetch more towels for this newest batch of snow-laden travelers.

“I’m sorry we burst in on you this way,” Splotch contritely responded, yet the look she flashed at Icon was barely civil. “We walked all the way to Coville and missed the plane by fifteen minutes. And by the time the next flight east was supposed to depart, the flight was cancelled. And rather than seeking out a hotel where we could take shelter, Icon insisted that we come back to Woodlawn because he couldn’t think of spending Christmas Eve without his family.” Her eyes narrowed.

Icon accepted a towel from his mother with a brief smile, but immediately turned to face Splotch. “You were so determined to spend hours visiting with a former boyfriend...”

“He was my math tutor,” Splotch hissed.

“Excuse me,” Icon rasped. “You were so determined to spend hours...”

“Half an hour!”

Icon ignored this interruption. “... visiting with a stallion who obviously meant a lot to you...”

“He helped me get a passing grade in algebra... that’s all.”

“That’s all? He couldn’t keep his hooves off of you.”

“We shared a hug! Is there anything wrong with that? We hadn’t seen each other for years!”

“And he held your hoof the entire time we were there,” Icon fumed.

“You are impossible!” Splotch threw the wet towel in Icon’s face, then turned to the door. “I’m going to my apartment; Christmas Eve alone is certainly an improvement over spending it with you!” She opened the inside door and the storm door snapped outward, sending a flurry of snowflakes and bitter cold into the room that literally stopped Splotch in her tracks, giving Icon time to reach around her to pull the door shut once more.

“You, little spitfire, are staying right here.” Then, as if the cold blast of air had cooled his temper, he went on in a calmer voice. “Things didn’t work out the way we planned, but maybe we should just make the best of it instead of trying to get the last word in.” He brushed the latest shower of snowflakes off her mane and grinned. “It is Christmas, after all... peace and good will and all that.”

For several moments, peace hung in the balance as Splotch considered this conciliatory offer; then the dangerous gleam in her eyes changed to a mellow glow. “Oh, Icon, I’m sorry I’ve been in such a beastly mood; but I had so counted on spending Christmas with my family.”

“We’ll get to Happy Hollow as soon as the weather straightens out,” Icon promised. The mare gave him a big hug, and the stallion winked at his own family over her shoulder. “Maybe we should pretend we just arrived and wish everyone a Merry Christmas.”

Suddenly very aware of their audience, Splotch pulled back from Icon, her cheeks darkening in a blush. “Merry Christmas, everyone. And I didn’t mean to imply that I’m not happy to be sharing the holiday with you; you’re all my family, too.” Her penitent expression was so sincere that her apology met with nothing but warm words of welcome.

* * *
After getting over his initial shyness of Splotch and Icon, Banderol found the young couple to be highly entertaining as they sat on the floor telling stories, singing carols, and partaking of Grandma’s cut-out sugar cookies and mugs of hot chocolate. The wind still howled outside the windows and the snow continued to fall as an early darkness closed in on the shortening day.

With the approach of evening, Banderol’s eyes began to droop; and he crawled onto Splotch’s lap while she and Icon led the rest of the ponies in a lively bout of caroling. By the time the singing ended, the little colt was sound asleep, his tiny hoof wrapped around a lock of Splotch’s primrose pink hair.

“Banderol was so caught up in the activities around him that he forgot about Kitty-Kitty,” Sugarberry commented to her husband. At the questioning look from the others, she went on to explain. “Banderol rescued his favorite stuffed animal from the backpack before we even left the house, and neither of us noticed. He dropped Kitty-Kitty somewhere along the way and was quite put-out when he realized his friend was gone.”

“Buried in the snow somewhere, I’d imagine,” Stillwater mused.

“Yes. And as he walked only for a short way after we left home, that somewhere is back in Dream Valley,” Vanguard added.

“Was this the Puffalump we gave him?” wondered Floral Breeze.

“Yes, it was. He’s loved it since he first set eyes on it.”

“I know it meant a lot to him,” smiled Floral Breeze. “I’m glad I stocked up on those toys when Ivan’s had their clearance sale of outdated merchandise. I’m giving one to Cascade this Christmas, but his is an elephant rather than a cat.” She looked toward the Christmas tree. “It’s wrapped and waiting.”

“If Banderol needs it for comfort tonight, I’m sure Cascade wouldn’t mind if he made use of it,” offered Morning Dew.

“Thanks,” breathed Sugarberry. “We might have to take you up on that to insure peace on earth this night.”

* * *
“Baby Noddins,” Frostflake reminded her daughter as Archer answered the doorbell, “remember that Baby Curlylocks is feeling down because her dad didn’t make it home for Christmas. Make a special effort to help her cope, would you, dear?” Frostflake had invited the neighboring family to join them for Christmas Eve festivities when she had learned that Canteen had been snowbound while away on a business trip, leaving his wife, Curly Locks, and the three offspring– Baby Curlylocks, Crinkle, and Catkin– alone on this special night.

“I’ll try, Mommy,” Noddins promised, taking a tentative step on her still tender hoof.

“Good girl,” Frostflake said, ruffling her daughter’s mane. “And try not to end up at the bottom of a pile of ponies,” she teased.

Baby Noddins was soon set upon by Crinkle, two years her senior, asking her for information concerning a new filly at school; so between him and the bevy of cousins romping through the house, it was some time before she could concentrate her attention on Baby Curlylocks. Noting that the young pegasus was rather downcast even amidst the party atmosphere prevailing, she invited her friend to escape to her bedroom for a quiet talk.

“Your dad can’t get home tonight, can he?” she asked as Curlylocks stood gazing out the window at the constant stream of snowflakes.

“No. He’s still in Hayton.”

“That’s not so awful far. Once the snow stops and the paths are cleared, he’ll be here in no time.”

“Yeah. But he’s not here for Christmas Eve; even if he can get home tomorrow, it will be late in the day, Mom said.”

Noddins thought about her own father downstairs, and she realized that he took his steady presence for granted. He was always there when she needed him. “I wish your dad was here, too, Curly; he’s probably missing you as much as your missing him.”

“I know,” Curlylocks sniffed as a tear escaped down her cheek.

“I don’t think he’d want you to cry.”

“He talked to each of us kids on the phone after he told Mom he couldn’t get home; he said I was to think of Baby Jesus in the stable, just like he’d be doing, and that would bring us all together.”

“I wonder if it was snowing the night Jesus was born,” wondered Noddins, going to stand next to her friend at the window. “If it was snowing like it is now, I suppose the stable looked pretty cozy to Mary and Joseph.”

“I wouldn’t want Daddy to be out in that cold snow,” admitted Curlylocks. “At least I know he’s safe and warm in his motel.”

“And when he gets home, he’ll want to hear everything you did.” She coughed, adjusting her voice to sound similar to a parental scold. “... and he won’t want to hear that you spent your time cryin’.”

Curlylocks turned and hugged Noddins. “I’ll try, Noddy. But sometimes it just seems so empty without him.”

Looking over Curlylocks’ shoulder, Noddins caught sight of the Puffalump that Teddy had given her lying on the edge of the bed where she had left him after her nap. “I know. You can have this cat that Teddy found and gave to me this afternoon when I hurt my hoof skating. It made me feel better; now it can do the same for you.” She grabbed the floppy animal off the bed and thrust it into Curlylocks’ hoof. “Whenever you start missing your dad, just hug Puffy!”

Looking at the perpetually happy face of the cat, Curlylocks grinned back and crushed the toy to her chest. “Thanks, Noddy.”

* * *
Quietly so as not to disturb her still sleeping husband, Sugarberry eased herself out of bed early Christmas morning and went to the window to check on the conditions outside. The wind had died down, but not before sculpting wave-like drifts of snow over the landscape that made effective barriers to pony traffic. At this hour, no one had yet ventured out to face the task of clearing the snow away, so the view from the window was of an unspoiled expanse of pure whiteness as far as the eye could see. Snowflakes were still falling; but without the wind to drive them, they floated and seemed to grant a peacefulness to the panorama that softened the cold, hard edges of the wind-sculpted drifts.

After soaking up the Christmas-card beauty of the view, Sugarberry turned her attention to the snug, makeshift bed where Banderol slept. Sleeping on his tummy, the profile of his face was a picture of perfect contentment. What happy dream is he entertaining? she wondered.

The foal had enjoyed Christmas Eve spent with his grandparents, aunt and aunt-to-be, uncles, and little cousins; but as bedtime approached, he had begun to feel the loss of his beloved Kitty-Kitty. He had crawled onto his mother’s lap and looked at her so woefully that Sugarberry had been hard pressed not to march straight back to Dream Valley regardless of the raging weather outside. She had settled for hugging her son and sending a beseeching glance at Vanguard to fish Cascade’s gift from under the tree so that Banderol might find comfort in the stand-in Puffalump.

Not to be pacified so easily, Banderol took one look at the blue elephant and buried his face in his mother’s mane, refusing even to acknowledge it. It was only after Banderol could no longer fight sleep that he accepted Cascade’s Puffalump into his forelegs, too tired to notice the deception, only recognizing the feel of the familiar smooth fabric that spoke to him of Kitty-Kitty. He slept with visions of sugar-plums dancing in his head and with one little hoof protectively on the Puffalump. Sugarberry gently brushed a hoof over the foal’s soft mane.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Vanguard whispered in the mare’s ear.

“Merry Christmas,” the mare smiled, turning to slip into her husband’s embrace. “How’d you sleep?”

“Very snugly. My old bed never felt so good as it does with you by my side.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “But how about you? Did I sleep through any of Banderol’s complaints?”

“He slept well, too. I heard him squirming a couple of times, but he only needed his blanket tucked in tighter; and he went right back to sleep.”

“And how goes the blizzard?” asked Vanguard, glancing toward the window.

“The wind is gone, but there’s plenty of snow out there.” They moved to take in the view, only to find that Whirlpool was now up and shoveling a path.

“Oops! I better get down there and help,” Vanguard noted.

“And I should report for kitchen duty,” acknowledged Sugarberry. “You shovelers are going to need a hearty breakfast.”

“And some warming up,” teased Vanguard, enveloping his wife in a bear hug.

* * *
Dream Valley was no less buried in snow than Woodlawn, and ponies across town scurried to clear paths through their neighborhoods and to the point of particular importance on this holy day– church. The weather may have stymied the Christmas Eve community celebration of Christ’s birth, but it would not succeed for a second day in curtailing that profound activity as ponies fought the drifts and the arctic temperatures to make their way to church to adore the newborn Priest, Prophet, and King.

* * *
Curly Locks and her family made it a point to view the delayed living nativity at the park which was held in the late afternoon of Christmas day due to the inhospitable weather on Christmas Eve. Baby Curlylocks’ thoughts were never far from her father, who, she hoped, would join them for at least the waning hours of this special day, although her brothers had made a point of buoying up her spirits throughout the day.

Sixteen-year-old Catkin and fourteen-year-old Crinkle, in the company of several other neighborhood colts and fillies, had enticed their sister to join them in constructing a snow village of forts, igloos, and castles in the backyard after a hearty Christmas dinner. Their efforts had created a magical winter setting that called forth many boisterous scenarios to be acted out by the young ponies, fully occupying several hours with strenuous exercise that kept worries at bay and resulted in cold, hungry participants who were nonetheless extremely pleased with their efforts.

By the time they had been warmed and refreshed themselves, it had been time to set off for the re-enactment of the first Christmas. Baby Curlylocks hung close to her mother with the Puffalump snuggled close to her side for reassurance and for a little added warmth; she also found that her muscles ached from the exertion of mining snow blocks and tunneling through the drifted snow. Only the sting of the cold air kept her from falling asleep on her hooves.

The representation of the Holy Family in the humble stable at Bethlehem served to reawaken Baby Curlylocks to the joy and peace of the day; as she stood, her eyes riveted to the actions of the characters in the living drama, she felt a soft touch on her shoulder and instinctively knew the cause.

“Daddy!” she cried, twirling around to gaze up at her male parent, her eyes a-twinkle. “You’re back!” The stallion was nearly bowled over as the filly jumped into his forelegs.

“Of course I am, princess,” he said as he regained his balance. “The snow may have slowed me down, but it couldn’t stop me completely.”

“I missed you so much!”

“As I did you,” Canteen said, kissing the top of his daughter’s head, then releasing her enough so that he could draw his wife into the hug. “I missed you all.”

Crinkle and Catkin left a group of their friends to welcome their father, and soon the family was on its way back home with Baby Curlylocks anxious to watch her father open his waiting gifts from under the tree. Her sore muscles forgotten, she bounced between her mother and her father with Puffy jouncing at her side.

“Wait ‘til you see the neat winter village we made in the backyard,” she enthused.

“It’s quite an impressive sight, Dad,” Catkin verified. “This snow is awesome.”

“The voice of youth,” he sighed with a wink at his wife. “I’d be more likely to label it as awful.”

They were nearly home when Curly Locks pointed out their neighbor, Gavel, shoveling his front walk. “Gavel’s still recuperating from that surgery he had,” she exclaimed. “I thought he was supposed to take it easy for awhile yet.”

“He looks like he should be in bed,” Canteen concurred, noting how the stallion had to stop and rest between every shovelful of the heavy, white stuff. He looked back to see Crinkle and Catkin lagging behind, deep in some discussion; when they noticed their father’s penetrating gaze, the two teenagers hurried to catch up.

“What’s up, Dad?” Catkin asked.

Canteen nodded in Gavel’s direction; the stallion had been greeted by Curly Locks and Baby Curlylocks and now stood leaning heavily against the shovel. “You two wouldn’t mind shoveling the walk for Gavel, would you?” he queried. “I can well imagine that Sadie got on her high horse and browbeat him into...” Canteen stopped and looked at his sons guiltily. “Forget I said that. Let’s just find out just how many other chores Gavel has on his agenda; if we all pitch in, we can get them out of the way in no time.”

“No problem,” Crinkle said, already on his way to relieve Gavel of his current chore. Canteen and Catkin followed and arrived in time to hear the stallion explain his dilemma.

“Sadie’s busy in the kitchen; Roy called, saying he’ll be here later and that he’s bringing some friend of his.” Seeing Canteen, Gavel grinned. “I thought you were stuck up in Hayton.”

“Only a temporary delay; but what about you? Aren’t you supposed to be convalescing?”

“Well, now, you know how Sadie is. Once she found out that Roy was bringing some stranger over to the house, she got all riled up and wanted things to look right... which meant she had to start cleaning and fixing food right and left. And then she started noticing how some things needed doin’ outside.” He waved a hoof in Crinkle’s direction as the colt divested the path of its white crystal layer. “‘Shovel the walk,’ she said... and fill the bird feeder, and haul in some wood for the fireplace. Excuse me, but I’ve really got to sit down.”

The stallion was looking rather pale and his hooves trembled as he allowed Canteen to guide him to the front steps and assist him in sitting. “Just got to catch my breath,” Gavel said. “Haven’t quite got my energy back since the surgery.”

“You’re rushing your fences, Gavel. You should have called for someone to come over and take care of these things.”

Some color was beginning to return to the stallion’s cheeks as he admitted, “Sadie thought the exercise would be good for me.”

Canteen looked at his wife over the top of Gavel’s head and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that sounds like Sadie, all right.” Turning his attention back to Gavel, he suggested that they go in the house to get warmed up while the boys took care of the work. Leaning on Canteen’s foreleg for support, Gavel made it inside with the mare and filly following behind. They had just gotten Gavel comfortably situated on the sofa when an energetic mare came into the room from the direction of the kitchen.

“I thought I heard voices,” she said, flashing a speculative glance at her visitors. “I suppose you’re making Christmas calls.” Her eyes swept across the carpeting. “Hope you all haven’t tracked in a lot of snow. I just finished straightening up.” She leaned over to pick up a scattering of melting snow. “Tsk, tsk. Isn’t that just the way it goes.” She fixed a hard stare on her husband. “Don’t tell me you haven’t finished the walk yet. Roy and his friend’ll be here any time now.” She looked out the window and saw Crinkle and Catkin busily taking care of the errands she had sent her husband out to do. “I suppose those two will be tracking through the living room next.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Sadie,” Canteen drolly interjected. “The boys are taking care of the walk and the firewood; Gavel isn’t up to heavy work just yet.”

“And I’m supposed to do everything around here?” Sadie retorted. “As if it isn’t bad enough that this storm had to throw a wrench into our plans. Roy couldn’t make it yesterday, and now he calls and says someone will be coming with him because he hasn’t got anyplace else to go. There’s just no end to it, I say. Nothing merry about it at all.”

“Maybe I could help you...” Curly Locks began, but Sadie would have none of that.

“I don’t need any help, missy. In fact, I’ll be gettin’ back to my dinner preparations right now.” She sniffed and turned her back on the rest of the ponies, disappearing into her domain.

Curly Locks smiled at Gavel. “Maybe I could get you something warm to drink.”

“You’re brave enough to go into the lioness’ den?” he teased.

“For you, yes,” the mare replied and went to fulfill her errand.

Baby Curlylocks moved to sit next to Gavel, a look of confusion on her face.

“What is it, little sweetie?” the stallion asked, noticing her close regard.

“Why doesn’t Sadie ever smile?” she asked.

Gavel chuckled while Canteen shook his head in dismay over his daughter’s forward question. “Smiling doesn’t come easy for Sadie, does it?” He sat in thought for awhile as if he had never pondered this particular question before. “Sadie likes to keep busy, so I guess she doesn’t have time to smile,” he finally determined. “It’s not that she’s not happy, mind you. She is... she just doesn’t show it the same way as the rest of us do.”

“Are you happy?” Baby Curlylocks quizzed, obvious doubt in her voice. Canteen groaned and dropped his head onto his hooves, but Gavel’s eyes sparkled

“I fell in love with Sadie many, many years ago; I imagine we’ve both changed over the years since those days. But am I happy? Yes, I think I am. At least, I’m content.”

Baby Curlylocks didn’t seem to be convinced, but her mother arrived with a steaming mug of hot chocolate for Gavel and a sliced apple. “Just what the doctor ordered,” she smiled, setting the food on the coffee table ahead of him.

“None for yourself?” queried the stallion with a lifted brow.

“I risked life and limb for this much,” giggled Curly Locks. “And besides, you should rest after you finish this snack. I’ve made Sadie promise to let you get some sleep before Roy arrives.”

“Always an angel,” Gavel sighed, his eyes twinkling at the mare. “Thanks to all of you for helping me out.”

“Next time, call before you risk your health,” Canteen commanded.

“I would have this time, but I didn’t want to bother you today of all days.”

“You’d never be a bother, Gavel... especially today,” Curly Locks said, kissing the stallion on the cheek. “Now, eat; and then lie down and cover up with this throw. I don’t want to hear that you’re back in the hospital tomorrow.”

“Yes, m’dear.”

Canteen and Curly Locks were on their way out the door when Baby Curlylocks ran back to Gavel. “Here,” she said, shoving the Puffalump into his hooves. “Puffy will always have a smile for you.” She reached up to hug the stallion, then raced to catch up to her parents.

Gavel looked long at the floppy friend he had just inherited, then grinned and followed Curly Locks’ orders to eat and sleep. When Sadie checked on him later, she stared in amazement at the childish plush toy cradled in Gavel’s forelegs. She walked to the creche that rested on the mantel and picked up the swaddled babe, glanced from it to her sleeping husband... and smiled.

* * *
The house of Floral Breeze and Whirlpool in Woodlawn had been a busy terminal of comings and goings throughout Christmas Day as religious, then familial, celebrations took place. Banderol had abandoned the elephant Puffalump upon awakening, giving his mother a determined, “No Key-Key,” for his reason; but with so many relatives– and especially with Droplet– to entertain him, the toddler colt had no troubled times. Icon and Splotch had even taken the little ones outside to revel in the winter wonderland, bringing them back inside only when their own hooves were numb from the cold.

Floral Breeze and Sugarberry watched from the window as Icon aided Droplet and Splotch guided Banderol in a rather pathetic snowball fight which soon blossomed into a full scale artillery match as the two adult ponies abandoned the foals to concentrate their respective barrages at each other. It was at this point that two cousins, Biscuit and Petal– along with Petal’s good friend, Caravel– showed up and added some real fire-power to the battle. The foals soon became pawns in a hostage situation that thwarted the stallions’ efforts to decimate the mares’ position and ended the hostilities on a laughing note.

“Splotch seems to be enjoying her forced stay in Woodlawn,” Sugarberry noted as the mare gave as good as she got when a minor skirmish was renewed between her and Icon on the snowball battlefield.

“She’s quite adaptable once she lets go of her determination to have her own way,” Floral Breeze revealed. “Thankfully, she and Icon have succeeded in working through the rough spots.”

“That reminds me that Chocolate Chip’s friend in New Pony, Xavier, is from Splotch’s hometown; they went to school together.”

“You know what they say... it’s a small world. You’ll have to remember to ask Splotch about her recollection of Xavier.”

“I intend to; from what I could gather from Chocolate Chip, Xavier remembers a rather outspoken, independent filly... which seems to support the reality. It will be interesting to see if Splotch concurs with Chocolate Chip’s assessment of Xavier.”

“How is Chocolate Chip settling into her return to Dream Valley?”

“Very well,” Sugarberry grinned. “I’ve never seen her so happy... or so satisfied with her life. She has a lot of wedding plans to make, of course, on short notice; but she has everything under control.”

“She and Wigwam are getting married next month?”

“Yep. On January 31.”

“Let’s hope that the weather will be on better behavior for that occasion.”

Sugarberry laughed. “Wigwam is undaunted. He says that nothing will interfere with this wedding.”

“What’s this about a wedding?” a voice asked from behind the mares.

“Velvet!” Floral Breeze rushed forward to hug her sister, regardless of the fact that the two mares had stood outside the church talking earlier. “I didn’t hear the doorbell.”

“Stillwater saw us coming up the walk and admitted us in fine style.” Velvet turned her attention to Sugarberry. “It’s so good to see all of Floral Breeze’s family here for the holiday.”

“She has her hooves full with all of us on the premises,” Sugarberry smiled. “And I imagine your house is rather quiet with Chiffon gone to New Pony with Tribute.”

“It’s a good thing they left early to make a long stay of it,” Velvet shivered. “I hope the weather allows them a good trip home.”

“We were just discussing the weather’s influence on winter activities,” shared Sugarberry. “The wedding you overheard us mention is to be in January.”

“Oh.” Velvet looked relieved. “I was afraid something had come up to complicate the plans for that June extravaganza we’re planning, Floral Breeze.”

“As if we don’t have enough complications,” grinned Velvet’s sister.

Icon and Chiffon were marrying their respective sweethearts at a double ceremony at the start of summer; and although Velvet and Floral Breeze saw eye-to-eye on almost everything, the added influence of Splotch’s parents in Happy Hollow and Tribute’s parents in New Pony did indeed tend to entangle matters.

“From what I’ve been hearing, you could almost make this wedding day a triple ceremony,” Sugarberry teased as the three mares made themselves comfortable in the cozy sitting area.

Both Velvet and Floral Breeze looked skyward as if for divine help. “That possibility has been bandied about, but only to torment us,” Velvet admitted. “Fitting Icon and Chiffon’s cousin into the mix would entail an entire new planning strategy.”

“Fortunately for us, Silver Frost and Blake haven’t committed themselves yet. From all appearances, they’re still dating other ponies upon occasion,” revealed Floral Breeze.

“Although anyone can tell by seeing the two of them together that they think the world and all of one another,” Velvet added thoughtfully, then shook her head as if unable to figure out that puzzle. “Tribute was very pleased to have been with his brother and wife when their foal was born.”

“Well, he was with his brother, at any rate,” giggled Sugarberry. “Fern wasn’t quite so fortunate.”

The birth of Fern and Toby’s first foal on Thanksgiving Day was well into becoming a Dream Valley legend. All of Toby’s family had been invited to spend that holiday in Dream Valley due to the fact that, well, Fern was due. With all the family congregated under one roof, there were three doctors (Toby himself; his brother, Tribute; and their father, Andrew) ready and willing to attend to the mare when the foal decided to come. The situation was well covered, but fate intervened.

With Fern napping after the traditional Thanksgiving feast, Toby and Tribute had accompanied their brother-in-law, Copper, to the park with his two children, Patina and Quill, while Chiffon and Tendril made a visit to Sugarberry at her home. Andrew and Ribbons n’ Lace watched over the sleeping Fern, but when Fern’s Aunt Maisie called from the home of an ailing friend with the news that Crescendo was complaining of some chest pains, Andrew had immediately responded, leaving Fern in Ribbons n’ Lace’s sole care. The mare checked on Fern once more before settling down to finish knitting the booties on which she had been working, only to be brought to her hooves when an agonizing groan sounded from the bedroom, signaling an end to a quiet afternoon.

Ribbons n’ Lace rushed to Fern’s side, found the situation critical, placed a call to Sugarberry to send word to Toby at the park, then called Maisie to alert her to the complication, took one more look at Fern, and called Dr. Aurora who was, thankfully, accessible, and then buckled down to do what she could for her daughter-in-law. By the time Toby and Tribute arrived back on the scene, Dr. Aurora had already assisted Fern in delivering a healthy and entrancing little filly who won her father’s heart in an instant.

“Baby Frond is a little angel,” Sugarberry related. “She has her mother’s sweet disposition.”

“If I remember correctly, Toby missed Banderol’s birth, too,” Floral Breeze grinned.

“Yes, and Vanguard will never let him forget that; Dr. Neil is quite... unorthodox... shall we say.”

As the group from the backyard now entered the house, Velvet could now determine that Dr. Neil’s delivery of Banderol over thirteen months ago had been a well-dealt event as that little foal bounced into the room and scampered to his mother, his cheeks red with the cold and his eyes dancing in sheer delight over his outing.

“You’re as cold as ice,” his mother remonstrated as she scooped the foal into her forelegs.

Icon trailed in, a towel in his hooves and a grin on his face. “Bandy has a mean throwing leg,” he said, draping the foal in the towel, then confiscating him from his mother to move closer to the fireplace’s heat and rubbing some warmth back into the colt’s extremities.

“From what I saw,” Sugarberry taunted, “you were the mean one, pelting Splotch the way you did.”

“She showed no mercy,” defended Icon, shaking more melting snow out of his mane, causing Banderol to giggle. “She and Petal were like Amazons.”

“I’ll verify that with the girls while I warm some cider,” Sugarberry winked as she left the room.

Velvet and Floral Breeze remained to watch Icon administer his care to Banderol. After thoroughly drying the colt, which amounted to more of a tickling bout, Icon stood Banderol in front of him and smoothed out his damp hair. Banderol, in turn, begged for his uncle to hold him, which Icon willingly did, setting himself in the rocking chair and drawing an afghan over the foal.

“Okay, Bandy, should Uncle Icon tell you a story?” the stallion asked. Getting no response, he looked down at the precious face pressed against him and found that the foal was already fast asleep. “Sleep tight, little fella,” he whispered, settling Banderol more comfortably in his forelegs.

“Let me take him up to his bed,” Floral Breeze offered, but Icon shook his head.

“I think I’d rather hold him awhile, Mom,” he softly replied. He grinned up at her. “But you could bring me some of that hot cider when Sug gets it ready.”

“Oh, my. We should be helping out in the kitchen, Velvet.” The two mares bustled away, leaving Icon to study the beauty of a sleeping child.

* * *
“Well, Roy, your friend looks as if he’d rather be anywhere else but here.” Gavel and his son were settled comfortably in the living room while Sadie continued to putter in the kitchen. Roy and Dangler had arrived just in time to sit down for the meal Sadie had prepared, barely missing the serious scold they would have received if Sadie had been forced to set back the supper hour.

Dangler, Roy’s closest friend as well as his partner in a home-remodeling business, had been a sorry companion on this trip owing to a disappointing answer to his proposal on Christmas Eve to a longtime sweetheart. The mare had blithely informed him that she had met someone else; and though she would always value his friendship, she could not look upon him as a marriage partner. Dangler had been devastated and was now sunk in a dark study.

“I think he’d be just as down no matter where he spent Christmas this year,” Roy admitted.

“It’s too bad I’ve been laid up; we could have planned for some livelier entertainment for the lad,” chuckled Gavel. He sat on the couch with the Puffalump Curlylocks had given him sitting by his side.

“Trust me. The only thing that will help Dangler now is to get back to work. He can take out some of his disappointment on a few nails.”

“Your business is doing okay?”

“We’ve been swamped all fall, what with ponies wanting to winterize their homes and make improvements before the holidays. Things’ll slack off now a bit, but we have one major renovation lined up that will keep us occupied.”

“I wish I was fit to work alongside of you,” sighed Gavel.

“Terry is the one you should be mentoring,” Roy said, referring to his older sister who had followed her father’s profession as a lawyer. As a teenager, the filly had never seen eye-to-eye with her mother and had long since escaped to New Pony to pursue her career out of the range of her mother’s sharp tongue.

“Your sister doesn’t need... or want... my help,” Gavel admitted. “She called, however, last evening, and wished us a Merry Christmas. She’s at some tropical resort for the holidays.”

“Figures,” snorted Roy. “Always too busy for family.”

“She’s doing just fine for herself,” Gavel defended his daughter. “It’s Dangler you should be thinkin’ about just now.”

Roy sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Would you and Mom mind if Dangler and I went over to see Tripper? He said he’d be home.”

“It’s okay with me, son. I’ll probably be asleep in a few minutes anyway,” he grinned.

* * *
It was late when Roy and Dangler got back; Sadie had gone to bed in a huff when she learned her son would rather spend his time with an old classmate rather than with his parents. Gavel had borne the brunt of her lecture on the thankless job it was to cook and clean and launder only to have your offspring eat and run like some thankless clod. When she had marched out of the room, Gavel had taken up the Bible to read the Christmas story– finding the Puffalump to be an absorbed listener– one more time before leaning his head back to watch the dying flames in the fireplace.

He was startled from his sleep as Roy and Dangler entered the house, even though the two had made every effort not to disturb anyone, hoping to avoid Sadie if at all possible. In that they were successful; but Dangler, remaining downstairs to pace off his still riotous feelings, inadvertently knocked over a magazine rack, waking Gavel who had fallen asleep on the sofa.

“I’m sorry,” Dangler whispered when he realized he was not alone in the room. He rubbed his sore leg and hoped that he would not become the target for more of Sadie’s barbs. It was with a huff of relief that he heard Gavel’s voice instead.

“There’s a lamp just to the left of you,” Gavel offered. “It’ll save you a few more bruises if you click it on.”

As light pooled in the room, Dangler apologized for disturbing him. “I thought the room was empty,” he ended.

“It seems I fell asleep,” Gavel yawned. “I suppose we should both be getting to bed... unless you’d like to talk.”

“What’s to say?” Dangler growled. “The mare I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with has written me off for some hot-shot she met on a business trip.”

“And you don’t want to hear anyone say that maybe it’s all for the best.”

“No, Gavel, I don’t.”

The older stallion sighed as he slowly got to his hooves, the motion causing the Puffalump to fall to the floor. With a sudden inspiration, Gavel reached down and picked up the limp body of the stuffed cat. “I’ll leave you with your thoughts, Dangler, but in the meantime I’ll put you in... Puffy, was it?... Puffy’s care; she’s a very good listener, even when you don’t talk out loud.” He offered the toy to the stallion.

His eyes wide with surprise, Dangler slowly reached out and accepted the pastel purple child’s toy, then bid his host goodnight. Once alone, Dangler stared at Puffy and Puffy stared right back.

* * *
The day after Christmas dawned with new snow falling, but with the advantage of slightly warmer temperatures. Dangler, who had slept little throughout the night, had arisen early while the world was still deep in shadow and had wandered aimlessly just to clear his head, eventually ending up at the park with its white-blanketed lawns and white-tipped evergreens ghostly visible in the still fragile light of day. And the stallion was not alone. Puffy accompanied him.

Finding that Gavel was right about the stuffed animal, Dangler had used Puffy as his sounding board before he had fallen into a fitful sleep. Finding Puffy tangled in his blankets when he made the bed– this act hopefully deflecting any of Sadie’s leftover ire– he had latched on to it absently and found that he still carried it when he was outside the house. Grateful for the filtered daylight, he had nonetheless tucked the Puffalump tightly against his chest on the outside chance he would encounter someone.

The quiet atmosphere of the park with the gently falling snow had a soothing effect on the heart of the distraught stallion. Finding a sheltered spot near a small pond, he made himself relatively comfortable on a cold, hard bench, and allowed his tangled nerves to slowly unwind. He set the Puffalump to face him.

“Well, Puffy, I survived another night, so maybe Trisha jilting me isn’t the end of the world after all.” A stronger breeze caused snowflakes to shower over the Puffalump, creating the effect that the animal had winked. Dangler laughed. “You’re very special, Puffy. I bet you could make a fortune if you went into counseling.” Did the cat smile? “Trisha hadn’t smiled at my jokes in a long time; I guess I should have seen the hoof-writing on the wall.” He picked up the toy, then hugged the Puffalump to him as he fought down another spasm of loneliness. “Well, okay, I’m not out of the woods yet, but I’ll make it.”

Sitting watching the flakes drift through the air, Dangler lost track of the time. The combination of falling snow accompanied by warmer temperatures and along with the fact that it was a vacation day, soon had the houses of Dream Valley spilling out the young inhabitants, anxious for a frolic. Hearing squealing voices from the direction of the sledding hill and at various points around him snapped Dangler from his reverie. Self consciously, he tucked Puffy under his foreleg and stood to make his way unobtrusively out of the park, only now noting that the day was much brighter even with the spitting cloud cover.

Sighing with relief that he had made it past the last rowdy group of colts and fillies playing fox and goose in the snow, Dangler increased his gait, anxious to get back to Gavel’s house before anyone spotted him packing a Puffalump like a toddler. His pace was arrested, however, when he heard what sounded like a muffled sob coming from the lowest branches of a blue spruce. His experience with Puffy having shattered some of his preconceptions of inanimate objects, he heard himself asking the tree, “Is something the matter?”

The sobbing stopped, but only because it turned into a wail. “Santa no brought sled for Christmas!” a wavering voice croaked.

Looking at the tree cautiously as he took a step backward– Ents were mythical, weren’t they?– Dangler found his voice to ask, “It would have to have been one mighty big sled, wouldn’t it?” His glance followed the towering giant’s span into the snowy heights.

There was what sounded like a hiccup, then, “Just a ‘ittle one would do.”

Shaking his head, Dangler leaned down to peer under the branches of the tree to find a huddled baby pony sitting on a blanket of pine needles, tears marring his face. “Um... are you the one without a sled?”

Shaking his head up and down, the little pony sniffed. “Me no sled,” he stated forlornly, his head now going side to side.

Feeling dizzy from following that motion from his tilted position with the snowflakes dancing around him, Dangler stood upright. “Could you come out here and talk?” he asked. His experience with children was almost nil, but he could not ignore the dispirited little tyke.

The lowest branches of the tree ahead of him quivered, then the baby pony appeared, his head down, his ears at half-mast. He brushed his hooves over his wet cheeks, then looked up to see with whom he spoke.

“You stwanger.”

It took a moment, but Dangler managed to decipher the baby-talk. “Stranger than what?” queried a puzzled Dangler. He had very little experience with baby ponies.

“Me can’t talk to stwangers,” the baby pony explained, then closed his mouth tightly.

“Oh. I see. But should you be out here all alone like this?”

“Me wun away.” As soon as the words were out, the baby pony realized he had once more talked to the stranger; and he clapped his hoof over his mouth.

Dangler stooped to the foal’s level. “Why did you run away?”

A big tear sliding down his cheek, the foal had to unclamp his hoof to brush it away. “Santa fo’got me.”

“You didn’t get any gifts for Christmas?”

The foals anguish was too much for him to contain any longer. “Momma and Daddy gave me...” he wailed again, “... ed-oo-ka-shall toys.”

“Edookashall toys?” Dangler scratched his head in consternation. Was he that old that he did not know what kids played with anymore?

“Ed-oo-ca-shall toys,” the foal nodded in the affirmative.

“I’m sorry. I never had any of those,” Dangler admitted.

The foal cast him a look that said, Lucky you. Then, “Momma says they make me smawt.”

Realization dawned on Dangler. “Oh! You’re talking about educational toys... something electronic, I suppose?”

“Yup, all talkie-talkie,” the foal complained. “Me wanna play outside!”

“Hmm... I imagine even Santa can’t go against your parents’ wishes.”

“You know Santa?”

“Well, sort of. And I might be able to talk him into bringing you a sled next year when you’re older.” The foal’s eyes lighted with anticipation, and Dangler realized he had just committed himself to something that he might not be able to deliver.

“You talk to Santa fow me?”

“I’ll do my best.” Then, remembering the Puffalump he still carried, Dangler offered it to the foal. “In the meantime, Santa thought this would do.” At the foal’s look of contempt, Dangler added, “You see, Puffy here will keep you company while you play your educational games. And she... um... he’s a real good listener. If you’re ever alone, he’ll be there for you.”

“A doll?” The little colt almost sneered and then looked wistfully across the park to the sledding hill from which excited chatter carried, muffled by the falling snow. “No sled.” Tears threatened again.

“Tommy? Tommy! Where are you?” an anxious voice filtered through the shifting curtain of white. The foal turned to the sound and visibly slumped.

“Auntie Adie,” the foal, obviously Tommy, groaned. He gravitated behind Dangler and peeked around him as the voice came nearer.

Appearing before him like a phantom materializing from the shadows, the mare reached Dangler. “Excuse me,” she panted, “but have you seen a little c... “ Her words cut off as she spied Tommy’s face peering at her from around the stallion; her tone changed from one of pleading to one of disapproval. “Tom-mee! Why did you disappear like that?!”

“Me wun away!” Tommy informed his aunt bravely, although he sidled closer to Dangler.

“How could you do such a thing?” the mare asked in dismay.

Feeling sorry for the foal, Dangler answered for him. “Tommy was disappointed that he didn’t get a sled this year, and thought he might find Santa and mention that oversight.”

The mare looked at the stallion as if seeing him for the first time. “And just who are you?”

“My name’s Dangler, Miss...?”

“Adalee. I’m Tommy’s aunt. His family has been frantically searching for him.”

“He’s perfectly fine,” Dangler informed the mare, “but he’s disappointed that he can’t ride down the sledding hill like the other kids.”

“That’s no excuse to run off.” She turned her attention to the foal. “Tommy, give me a moment to call your mom, then we’ll go home.” She accessed her cell phone and carried out her task, while Dangler exchanged a commiserating glance with the colt. He winked, hoping to buoy up the little fellow’s courage, then realized that Adalee had finished her call and was looking at him... or more specifically, at Puffy... doubtfully.

“I... I was... just in the park to hand out some Christmas cheer,” Dangler self-consciously stuttered, holding out the Puffalump. “Tommy doesn’t want a doll, but maybe you’d appreciate this cheerful little companion? It... it matches your eyes.” He almost shoved it into her hooves.

“Wh... why, thank you,” the mare now stuttered in return, staring at the purple cat, then lifting her violet eyes to gaze into Dangler’s hazel ones for a moment. “How sweet of you... and for befriending Tommy as well.” She looked away with an effort. “Come, Tommy. Let’s get you home and warmed up.”

Tommy looked up at Dangler with trust. “No fowget... sled next yeaw.”

“I won’t forget, Tommy.” Dangler looked sheepishly at the aunt. “I hope that won’t be a problem.”

“If it means that much to Tommy, I think it can be arranged.” She held out her hoof to the foal and with one last fleeting glance at Dangler wished the stallion a Merry Christmas.

“Merry Christmas,” Dangler returned, then watched them walk away. They were almost swallowed up in the snowy whiteness when he found himself running after them. “Tommy... Adalee... maybe this afternoon I could come over and take Tommy sledding...” Surely Roy would have an old sled hanging about somewhere.

Tommy clapped his hooves in joy. “Oh, please, Aunt Adie?”

“Well... your mother...” Adalee started to say, but was interrupted by Tommy.

“Momma won’t cawe... as long as she don’t haf to come.”

Adalee looked from Tommy’s pleading face to Dangler’ beseeching one and smiled. It was hard to determine who was more interested in the sledding expedition, the colt or the stallion. Suddenly, she realized that she might just enjoy such an outing herself. Clutching the Puffalump to her, she grinned. “It’s a date then... this afternoon, at... let’s say three o’clock?”

The answering grins from Tommy and Dangler were all the answer she needed.

* * *
The farewells to the Woodlawn ponies had been extended as long as possible, but Vanguard and Sugarberry and Banderol had to take their leave in good time to make their way to Berryville in time for the planned family gathering of Sugarberry’s side of the family. A gentle snow was falling, but a brightening of the sky promised a reprieve soon.

Toting his cousin’s Puffalump elephant, Banderol enjoyed walking through the whispy snow for a half hour or so but then begged for his father to carry him, which Vanguard willingly did. Banderol reached across to his mother, transferring the Puffalump to her care. “Key-Key all gone,” he sighed, the look of sadness in his eyes breaking Sugarberry’s heart.

When the family arrived at Strawberry Shortcake and Strawberry Basket’s house outside of Berryville, they found the rest of the relatives already gathered and waiting. Sugarberry’s parents had been joined by their other two daughters and their families: Gooseberry, Grapevine, Wineberry, Huckleberry, Baby Gooseberry, and Loganberry; and Raspberry, Driftwood, Custard, and Cream. Needless to say, there was a boisterous reunion.

“You’re house seems to be getting smaller,” Sugarberry teased her father as the ponies gathered in the living room to chat and exchange holiday experiences. The space was cramped– seven foals had a way of doing that.

“We’ll make do,” Strawberry Baskets grinned. “There’ll always be room for one more.”

“Thank goodness for that,” laughed Driftwood. “You’ll have one more to fit in come July.”

“Another foal?”,”How do you know it won’t be twins again?”,”You’ll have your hooves full!”, were only some of the comments that met that announcement.

“Tabby and Thomas are expecting in May,” Sugarberry shared once the excitement had settled down, “which is fortunate for Faline as her grandmothers seem to have a rivalry going on to garner as much of the little filly’s attention as they can. A second foal may help them to gain some perspective.”

“Or it will make them twice as demanding,” offered Grapevine as he rescued his youngest, Loganberry, who was being set-upon– literally– by Custard and Cream. Banderol, several months younger than these three, stood back as if assessing his chances to enter the tussle.

“‘Twice as demanding’ sums up what it’s like to have twins,” grimaced Raspberry. “This morning Custard spilled his glass of milk at the same time that Cream knocked the flower vase over.”

“Me only wanted to give Mommy a flower,” Cream defended from the sidelines.

“Yes, my love, and it was a very beautiful flower,” Raspberry responded tenderly. She then grinned at Sugarberry. “One of our waitresses at the restaurant gave birth on Christmas Eve; she had recurring dreams the last two weeks that when the foal was born, the doctor looked at the baby strangely, then lifted him for Neva to see: the foal always had a shiny red nose. Neva was gratified to find when the event actually occurred that her little one was perfectly normal.”

“A bright red nose would have made naming the baby a cinch,” noted Vanguard.

“True,” agreed Driftwood. “Rudolf, the Red-Nosed Roan.”

* * *
Adalee’s cheeks were as red as Tommy’s from the strenuous activity of sledding and marching back up the hill over and over... and over. The colt would have been at the sledding hill yet if she had not put her hoof down, knowing just how tired the little guy would be by the time he walked home again. Dangler had helped entice him away from the hill by promising to pull him home on the sled, which was a good enough enticement to lure Tommy away from the still crowded park.

“We had a wonderful afternoon, Dangler. Thanks for giving up your time to make a little boy very happy.” Adalee smiled at the stallion, resisting the urge to tuck an errant lock of his orange mane back into place.

Seeming to read her thoughts, Dangler brushed his hoof across his forehead to banish the stray lock. “I’d forgotten how much fun sledding could be,” admitted the stallion. He recalled Roy’s look of disbelief when he had heard of his friend’s plan to spend the day with a randomly met foal. Dangler had not corrected Roy’s impression of an elderly aunt worrying over the colt. “It was a welcome... escape.”

“Just what were you trying to escape?” giggled Adalee. “Annoying relatives or the leftover turkey?”

A brief look of irritation crossed the stallion’s face but was quickly shrugged off. “Let’s just say it was the daily grind.” A black cloud seemed to settle over him.

What did I say? worried the mare, suddenly feeling cold as the stallion seemed to pull away and set-up an invisible shield that foiled their camaraderie. She was about to ask Dangler to share whatever was bothering him when Tommy interrupted.

“I’m cowd, Auntie Adie. You make hot chocolate?” His squirming on the sled to look back at his aunt unseated him and he found himself sitting on the cold, hard ground.

“Of course we can have some hot chocolate,” Adalee assured the colt, rushing to help him to his hooves and keeping his cold hoof within hers to keep him by her side for the short distance they had yet to go. She grimaced at Dangler. “I think we’d better head for the back door; Tommy’s mother would be better off not seeing her little boy so cold and musted-up.” She uselessly tried to bring his hair back into some kind of order.

“He won’t get sick now, will he?” Dangler felt a twinge of conscience; he had been so content interacting with the colt and his aunt that he had not wanted the afternoon’s fun to end. But at what price to Tommy?

“Me won’t get sick,” Tommy piped up. “Me no like bein’ sick.”

“We’ll get you warmed up in a jiffy,” Adalee assured him, opening the back door to her sister’s house. She stepped back to allow Tommy and Dangler to precede her, and Tommy scurried on in; but Dangler hesitated.

“I should really be getting back to Roy’s...” he began, but stopped when he saw a look of disappointment cross Adalee’s face. He smoothly changed his direction. “... but I’m sure I have time for one mug of chocolate.”

“Great!” Adalee grinned; then realizing how elated she must have sounded, she continued to babble. “We owe you so much for befriending Tommy this morning when he was out all alone. Sis was beside herself with worry, and that made the rest of us nervous, too. You were very kind.”

“You... and Tommy... make it very easy to be kind,” admitted Dangler with a smile that melted Adalee’s heart.

* * *
Puffy spent the day quietly sitting on the sofa. Adalee had experienced such a satisfying afternoon that she had not given the Puffalump another thought since she had abandoned the cat upon returning with Tommy that morning. Now, however, with the day drawing to a close and with Dangler long since gone back to his friend’s house, the mare remembered the impromptu gift the stallion had bestowed upon her and went to rescue the poofy purple pet.

Dangler noticed my eyes, she recalled with a twinge of warmth, remembering Dangler’s comment about how they matched the Puffalump; clasping Puffy tightly to her, she bid her sister and brother-in-law a goodnight before making her way to her own home.

Once away from her sister’s perceptive glances, Adalee allowed herself to relax and yield to some pleasant daydreaming about the handsome stallion that had rescued Tommy from his venture into the park alone. Her lips curled into a smile as she recalled how right it had seemed to be with Dangler, laughing and talking like acquaintances of long standing.

There had been several times when Dangler had seen withdrawn, but those moments had soon passed; the stallion had seemed as hesitant to end the afternoon as she had been, sitting with her and Tommy at the kitchen table eating frosted sugar cookies heavy with sprinkles and drinking hot chocolate until her sister had come into the room to start supper which somehow broke the mood; and Dangler had been anxious then to get on his way.

Adalee frowned. He had left so quickly that she had not had a chance to ask his plans for the coming days. When would she see him again? Her heart lurched. What if she did not see him again, ever? That possibility was heart-rending; but, she realized with a sinking feeling, it was all too probable.

She sighed. At least she had Puffy. The doll would be a reminder of this wondrous day.

* * *
The first thing Adalee saw when she opened her eyes the following morning was Puffy sitting on her dresser; the mare smiled dreamily, remembering the time she had spent with Dangler. She stretched lazily, recalling the warmth of his smile, the color of his eyes– like blue velvet– and the sound of his voice. Her gleanings were interrupted by a knocking on the door.

“Who could that be so early on a Saturday?” she pondered as she slipped out of bed, making a quick stop by the mirror to run a hoof through her hair; she’d slept so soundly it was barely out of place. A frission of excitement ran through her as she anticipated finding Dangler on her doorstep. But she was to be disappointed. It was only Pampas, her neighbor, and his small son, Mesquite.

“Adie, sorry to bother you, but Sunny isn’t feeling well; and I’m going to take her in to see Dr. Toby. I was wondering...” He looked down at Mesquite, and Adalee finished for him.

“You want me to watch Mesquite. Of course I will.” She grinned at the little tyke as she tousled his hair, then swung him into her forelegs. “But just what’s the matter with your wife?” she asked of Pampas, returning a worried glance to the stallion.

“She’s been feeling under the weather since Christmas Day, but during the night she started complaining of stomach pains. I want to make sure everything’s okay.”

“Well, don’t worry about Mesquite; I’ll take good care of him.”

“Thanks, Adie.” The stallion gave his son a hug and a kiss, then hurried back toward his own place next door.

Adalee looked at the little foal who had just entwined his forelegs around her neck. He was not Dangler, but he would have to do. Keeping up with the little tyke would keep the memory of the stallion at bay.

* * *
“Sunny miscarried,” Pampas’ tired voice sounded over the phone.

“Pampas! I didn’t even know you two were expecting again! How is Sunny taking this?” A dull ache settled around Adalee’s heart in sympathy for the young mother.

“She’s very depressed; but Dr. Toby says that physically, she’s fine.” Pampas’ voice cracked. “We weren’t sure ourselves about the baby; it was so soon yet.”

“Oh, Pampas, I’m so sorry,” Adalee mourned. “What can I do to help?”

“How is Mesquite doing?”

“He’s sleeping