Page 7 of Run, Run Rudolph
“I am so sorry. Are you okay?” I watched his black eyes for a long moment, then cautiously unfolded the blanket, shaking it out with gentle, slow moves so as not to scare the reindeer. “I’m going to put a blanket over you, okay?” I draped it over his snowy torso, an eye out for dark pools on the white snow around him. No obvious bleeding. That was good, right?
As I tucked him in, I wondered if I was actually helping him, or just causing him stress. A strange human touching him and covering up his fur coat, which was meant for this weather.
But you kept a person warm after an accident in case they went into shock, so surely it wouldn’t hurt a reindeer to do the same?
I crouched in front of him again, not sure what else I could do for him. He wasn’t a massive animal, much shorter than I’d expected. Beautiful. And also in the middle of the dark, snowy road.
“Are you going to be okay, Rudolph?” My eyes filled with tears. What had I done to this poor creature? “What can I do to help you?”
Hearing crunching in the snow, I looked up to find myself surrounded by at least a half dozen reindeer, the reflective layer in their eyes making them glow an eerie, evil red. It was then that I realized my knowledge of the magical world was very, very limited.
Chapter 2
~ Tamara ~
Over the sound of the elf’s tantrum in my trunk, I put down my car’s soft roof, and helped an injured Rudolph into the back seat. My Sebring was a two-door, making it extra awkward, and I was pretty sure that in the light of day I’d find hoof scrapes down the side panels of the car from where Rudolph tried to climb in over the door.
If Haden could see me now, helping a (technically) wild animal into my car so I could take it home to help heal it, his eyes would roll so far back in his head, he’d sprain an eyeball. But what else was I supposed to do? Leave Rudolph on the road and let Christmas, the most magical time of the year, come to ruin, decimating the hearts of billions of children just because I’d been distracted by a Travis Tritt song?
I didn’t think so.
And anyway, all of Rudolph’s pals seemed to feel this was a good idea. When I’d asked them if they had any magic to heal him, they’d just stared at me. But when I’d suggested I take him to my barn so he could rest somewhere safe, they’d begun directing me, pushing me around with their noses. It was terrifying, and also the coolest thing ever. Way better than Char’s fairy godmother, not to mention the cranky witch who worked as her receptionist.
Although, the non-talking magical creature bit was making communication tricky.
Rudolph’s ankle and foot, which had gone through my bumper, were scraped but not bleeding too terribly, and it was difficult to decipher how severe his injuries might be. He was definitely dazed and stumbling. He also smelled oddly of tequila. In fact, all the reindeer seemed to have distinctive boozy, fermented scents, which could be a side effect from bad feed. Yet, I doubted very much that Santa would take shortcuts with his animals and their food.
The elf in my trunk had mentioned a party. But a reindeer party with alcohol? That felt too weird to be true—even for the magical world. Although, maybe the North Pole had Christmas parties just like a regular office did.
But this close to Christmas Eve seemed excessively risky. And shouldn’t they be too busy to celebrate?
Either way, with Christmas less than twenty-four hours away, Rudolph’s condition was not good.
Earlier, after setting up the back seat for Rudolph and retrieving my phone from where I’d thrown it after being surprised by the elf, I’d counted off the reindeer names in my head. So far, I had only spotted eight of the nine animals from the songs and stories. They were all wearing red collars with a silver medallion with their names engraved on them, and it appeared as though Vixen was absent. I hoped the reindeer hadn’t met a fate worse than Rudolph’s.
Once Rudolph was settled in the back of my car, the elf still banging and yelling at us from the trunk, I asked the other reindeer, again, for confirmation about what I should do.
“You want me to take Rudolph to my barn so he’s safe? And then maybe call a veterinarian?” No nose nudges to help me out. What did I expect? One of them to break out a to-do list for me or start writing in the snow?
The elf had seemed surprised that I could see the reindeer, and I wondered if it was possible because I believed in magical beings. Only three of us in the GAL PAL group could see Estelle, Char’s fairy godmother, and her offices. It had all been invisible to Samantha and Gabby, our nonbeliever friends. Would Haden, a serious, grown man, even be able to see Rudolph?
Haden. I really didn’t want to call him for help. Yes, he was a skilled veterinarian. He was kind, calm, super knowledgeable, and animals trusted him. But what would I do if he answered my call, came, and then was unable to see Rudolph?
The reindeer looked at each other, then back at me. They seemed to understand me, but so far had been only using their noses to nudge or prod me in the direction they wanted me to go. Maybe the magical veil between our worlds didn’t allow them to interact like Estelle or the elf could? Or maybe, because they were deer, they simply couldn’t talk.
“So? To the barn? Yes?” I repeated, feeling nervous. I wished someone would take charge, and make me feel less like I was about to kidnap Santa’s most-famous reindeer. I hunched further into my parka, stamping my cold feet. The snow was already piling up in my convertible’s interior, and the drive home was going to be awful with the roof down. The sooner we got going, the better.
Comet—the reindeer with the most white in his muzzle—stepped closer. I figured he must be second in command, and now in charge, since Rudolph was basically down for the count. I braced myself for another fuzzy nose nudge. At first I’d been delighted to be nuzzled by the beasts, but then one of them—Dasher—had nudged me a bit too hard, and I’d gone flying onto the snowy road, landing on my knees.
“Okay, I’m taking that as a yes,” I told Comet, noting that he had some sort of small red sack attached to his collar. None of the others had a sack, and I wondered what was in it.
“The barn will be fine while we decide what to do,” he replied in a deep, sage voice, and I jolted.
“Comet!” another scolded, his voice soft. I craned my neck, reading his medallion. Prancer.
I crossed my arms over my bulky winter coat, tucking my mittened hands in my armpits while I hunched down inside my parka and struggled not to react. The reindeer could speak—and in English. I didn’t know whether to faint or let out a sigh of relief.
“Talking is more efficient,” Comet replied to Prancer.
