Page 66 of Run, Run Rudolph
“Maybe you could keep Santa company,” I suggested to Prancer, trying to gently steer the rule-follower away from the stall so Tamara could get all the info she needed from the herd’s leader.
“Naughty list, Rudolph!” Prancer called out as I managed to edge him back. “I won’t protect you.”
“I’m in charge,” Rudolph snapped.
Prancer finally turned from the stall. “It’s your funeral, boss.”
“Remind me why you’re not friends with Hugo?” I mumbled to Prancer as he trotted away, giving a defiant little kick as he went.
“Santa’s magic is white,” Rudolph continued to Tamara. “Good, pure. They fell in love, and now she lives in our world. But they aren’t allowed to have children.”
“Why not?” Tamara asked.
“Interworld species propagation is forbidden, unless permitted under special circumstances.”
I nodded. That made sense to my scientific mind. You didn’t really want inter-species propagation here on the non-magical earth, either. Things tended to go funky when different species mixed and matched.
“Okay. And?” Tamara prompted.
“Santa really wanted kids. So, they created Christmas. In a way, all of the earth’s children became theirs, and they could spoil them once a year.”
“That’s really sweet.” Tamara was beaming, clearly liking this warm and fuzzy workaround the no-kids thing. “And she makes you and the rest of the herd fly, too?”
“She makes enchanted oats for us each year. And she wraps additional spells around us to keep us secure and protected when we travel.”
“Did she remove that spell? Is that why we can see you?” I asked.
“No, it’s because they were drunk,” Tamara said. “It weakens the wall between the worlds.”
“It also weakens the effect of her spell,” Rudolph said. “Plus, she only wraps us in that protection spell once a year, and last year’s spell is wearing off.”
“She sounds integral,” Tamara said, catching my eye. I could read her worry, and I wanted to ease it and make things better for her.
She absently stroked the side of Rudolph’s neck, and the animal’s earlier agitation waned.
“Christmas is a strain on her,” Rudolph confided, “and I worry…”
“Worry about what?” Tamara asked when he didn’t continue.
“She won’t want to come back to us. With the herd sticking with Santa, I think she felt excluded and alone.”
“Yeah, Hugo isn’t much of a prize, eh?” she asked, knowing the elf had chosen her side in the fight. Tamara’s joke fell flat, and her brown eyes flicked to mine, then to Rudolph. “I’m sure she still loves you all very much.”
“That might not be enough.”
“Why not?”
“Being in our world means that she’s constantly fighting against her black magic nature.”
“But she loves Santa, too, right?”
“TM,” I warned, knowing love didn’t solve everything, especially if Mrs. Claus was battling major forces within herself.
“She does,” Rudolph said, looking at me as though I was out of line for warning off Tamara. “Because of him, she does the work, stays civil, and acts like she has natural white magic. But Christmas reminds her that she can’t give Santa what he truly wants, and that she will never fit in or be accepted.”
“Oh, that’s awful,” Tamara murmured, and I moved to her side so I could place an arm around her in comfort.
“On summer solstice she can go before the council of white magic to request the hex be lifted—” Rudolph shivered, and I instinctively checked his ice packs to make sure he wasn’t getting too cold.
