the eve
weak light woke mariah from a dream about the yeti. she slowly pulled a hand out from the warmth of her wool blankets to rub the sleep from her eyes, then opened one eye to take in the scene out her east-facing window in her sleeping room. the sky was still mostly dark but she could tell the sun was itching to make an appearance soon. this was not good.
she threw back her pile of blankets and pulled on her fur robe and slippers to peer out the window. there was a scurry of activity outdoors, with elves running between warehouses and last-minute seers flying in. most years she was grateful that all she needed to manage was the herd, but this year may be a problem. mariah frowned at the dark brown of the ground and the dull look of the trees that surrounded the pole. where was that yeti this year? she had seen him just three nights ago and had seemed fine but a bit frazzled, like he’d just woken up.
instead of starting a fire, she dressed as quickly as possible, grabbed her essentials (silver dagger, peppermints, a sprig of evergreen), and strode out of her sleeping room and directly into the stables. eight antlered heads turned toward her, and she felt a surge of pride and love for her deer. she hadn’t been working with this herd very long, but she felt more comfortable with deer than she did with people some days. and this herd was the best she’d had in decades.
the elves had already been there that morning with breakfast, a much richer and heartier fare than normal. tonight was the night. mariah hoped, anyway. she went to blitz and rubbed the space between her antlers, brushed the sides of her face. mariah noticed the wear on blitz’s hooves and wondered what had happened during the lady’s outing, but she knew better than to bring it up. on to dawn, cammie, cushla, paige, daksha, darcy, vicky. the excitement strummed in the air of the stables.
then mariah walked outdoors just as the sun slid above the horizon. she squinted at it and took a look at the flawless blue sky. a feeling of dread filled her. she caught the eye of the elf across the yard also staring at the sky. the sled master. she walked over.
“where is the yeti?” he hissed. the sled master did not look happy, and with good reason. if there was no snow, the sled couldn’t take off. “this hasn’t happened in…” he sputtered, throwing his arms in the air and making a face. “i don’t even know because it’s been that long. and i’m old.” his eyebrows were so furrowed, they looked like one eyebrow, which would have made mariah giggle if the situation hadn’t been so dire.
“the man in red hasn’t even mentioned it,” said mariah, mulling that over. usually red’s intuition was spot on, but this was worrying.
“it’s never been this late,” said the sled master. “and if there’s no snow, THEN what do we do? there’s a first time for red to be wrong.” he turned in a huff and disappeared in the sled shed. mariah slipped her hand in her pocket and pulled out a peppermint, then popped it in her mouth.
she scuffed her boot at the brown dirt beneath her and took off her hat. it was too warm, and not a snowcloud in sight. at this point, all she could do is hope.
so, she went about prepping the herd. she shined the jingle bells, brushed the herd’s fur one by one, gave each girl a good massage, slipped them all plenty of fruits and nuts, and trimmed and buffed their hooves, paying special attention to blitz.
the day turned into dusk, and as she was was twining hollyberries on cammie’s antlers, mariah needed to take a break to find her gloves. the herd’s breath steamed in the stable. she glanced outside and noticed that clouds had covered the little sun they had this time of year and were moving quickly. a spark of hope glimmered in her chest. humming, she started a fire in the small potbelly stove in the center of the stable and grabbed her gloves.
soon, the herd was ready to go. she gave one last pat to daksha and kissed paige on the nose, then practically skipped to the door. (but she restrained herself – if the elves saw a hedgewitch skip? she’d never hear the end of it.)
the door creaked as she slid it open, spilling stable light into the darkness. the elves were scurrying around with last-minute packages and bags, and she saw the door to the big house open and the man in red step out on the stoop. mariah met him in the middle of the yard.
“the herd’s ready,” she said anxiously, waiting for red to mention the unspoken.
“hm, good good. the sled master’s reported as well,” he said in his gruff voice. the lady came up beside him, clasping a clipboard and a very thick ledger. she smiled at mariah, then the man in red, and then looked up.
“the snow, dear?”
the clamor stopped as ears of all sorts twitched toward the man in red. the sled master was silhouetted in the door of the sled shed, body tense. mariah’s hand twitched toward her peppermints.
the man in red looked up, squinted, ran his gloved hand over his beard, then set his sights ahead.
“the yeti knows what he’s doing.”
he and the lady left mariah standing in the middle of the yard while chittering from elves, seers, and other creatures gradually filled the silence.
mariah looked up, and a snowflake kissed her nose.