Page 44 of Run, Run Rudolph
“Mrs. C. would skin us all,” one of the reindeer said.
“Do you think she’d even come?” another asked. “She wants Christmas to fall apart.”
“Who? Mrs. Claus?” I asked, sharing a look with Tamara. That didn’t seem right.
The reindeer had formed a circle in the middle of the barn, centred around Rudolph, words flowing over each other.
“—handle this the right way?—”
“She’s still mad about the summer?—”
“Santa needs to?—”
“She’s got to make her?—”
“Do we have enough to do this?—?”
“No, and we’ll have to come back again…”
“What choice do we have?”
“We’re going to regret this.”
“I already do.”
“Okay?” Rudolph asked the group.
“Okay,” they replied in unison.
Then, suddenly, they fell quiet.
Tamara and I shared looks, followed by a shrug. I had no idea what they’d been discussing, and it didn’t appear that she did, either. I found myself moving to her side.
The remaining seven healthy reindeer, without so much as a look at us, marched toward the barn door. I hustled ahead, opening it for them.
One passed me with shiny Christmas ball ornaments hanging from his antlers and, unable to help myself, I reached out and touched a red one.
The reindeer turned to me. “Dude. Hands to yourself.”
“Sorry,” I said quickly, tucking my offending hand behind my back while the rest of the herd clambered outside. They all nosed into the small pouch Comet had been carrying in a holster like it was some sort of preflight ritual. I realized they were eating. Before I could figure out what was happening, they lifted up into the sky.
The reindeer didn’t jump or fly straight upward like I’d expected, though. It was like a hearty, twisting cross breeze had aligned with their flight path. Two of them had even knocked antlers before straightening out again. Was that normal, or were they still tipsy?
The trunk of Tamara’s car popped open, and a short man in a green vest and brown pants jumped into the sky after the reindeer. One of them tried to kick at him, but he swirled around in the air behind it, taking flight as well.
It was the elf. What a night!
I watched them until they were out of sight, which didn’t take long given the darkness and falling snow, then closed the door.
I turned from the door, feeling a mutual responsibility for the herd as though Tamara and I had raised them, and were now setting them free, hoping they’d survive. It was an odd sensation, and I shook it off before telling her the deer had set off.
Tamara turned to Rudolph, the tension that had been vibrating through her frame slipping away. “Come on then, let’s get you settled and ice that hip.” She guided the reindeer back into his earlier stall.
She talked softly to the animal, stroking his forehead. Then she straightened and joined me outside the stall. She went to a dusty old cupboard on one of the outer walls, opening it. She grabbed several big black garbage bags from a box and handed me one. “We can fill these with snow for his hip.”
“Are they going to the North Pole?” I asked, referring to the departed deer. I assumed that was where they were going, but I was new enough to this whole talking-reindeer thing that I might have missed something.
Tamara nodded. “I believe they’re going to get Santa and his sleigh.”
