Page 2

TAL

The wooden step creaked under my foot, splitting the silence of the midnight house. It was after midnight really, closer to 1am. Santa, if they truly existed, would have been and gone. Of course, I was old enough to know the truth about that, though possibly there was a part of me still lingering in childhood, that thought maybe such things could be true.

Another board groaned with my next step.

I froze, three creaky steps before getting far enough downstairs to see around the wall into the living room. A living room which I knew would be warm and glowing, complete with a Christmas tree covered in hundreds of tiny, cheerful lights, the presents underneath with their colorful paper wrapping and elaborate bows. I hadn’t seen it yet – disdaining to waste my time on such childish stuff during the day – but I could smell it from here… the fresh scent of pine, and the distinctive smell of new paper. I heard the soft hum of the electric candle as it changed colors in the empty room. Christmas was waiting for me down there.

There’d be stockings hanging from the mantelpiece, the names of their owners embroidered on them in red thread. I wasn’t interested in those. They were for the young pups and were sure to be stuffed full of little toys and treats that would have them running around in the morning, screaming in a sugar-haze for hours.

No, I was here for the magic of the tree, for the mystical ambience that embodied all the fairytales of my childhood, and all the dreams and unrealistic, idealist hopes of my innocent pre-teen years. Though they were well buried underneath adolescent cynicism, I’d never lost those dreams, never lost the kernel of a belief that at Christmas anything was possible.

There was a hiss, like a sigh, and I startled when I realized it came from me. When had I gotten so maudlin? I was too old for this silliness… which was precisely why I was creeping down the stairs alone after midnight, long after everyone else had gone to bed. Even the young ones had given up waiting to catch out Santa Wolf and were now tucked up in their beds, oblivious to everything, including their nineteen-year-old cousin slinking about the house to snatch a look at the Christmas tree in all its magic. I’d outgrown all the Christmas hoo-ha, well I should have, if the other shifters my age were to be believed. They scoffed at the tinsel, the carols, the excitement. I hadn’t joined in, hadn’t said a word, but I’d pulled faces at the appropriate times, so no-one would doubt I was just as cynical as they.

But perhaps they too were secretly like me. One foot already in the practical world of adulthood, one foot trailing behind in childhood. Maybe they too were sneaking through their sleeping households to catch a glimpse of the twinkling lights to feel once more the intangible magic of this special night.

I released the breath I’d been holding with a soft sigh. The board squeaked again as I shifted my weight. But no-one stirred. There was no-one awake. Just me.

I kept going. Just one look to satisfy myself, and then I’d go to bed.

The glow from the lights spilled onto the last couple of steps, urging me on. As I stepped past the wall, everything came into view. It was as magnificent as I’d expected. Fairy lights twinkling in many colors were looped across the windows, tinsel and ornaments hung everywhere, hooked onto every possible ledge and crevice, and hanging from tiny nails hammered into the picture rail. Shiny, glittering bells and balls were scattered along the mantelpiece.

A white wolf with giant wings forever frozen in place stood in the middle of the mantelpiece, its muzzle reaching for the moon. When switched on, its eyes would glow gold and its mechanical head would sing a Christmas carol that always sounded suspiciously like a howl. It towered over the Christmas stockings pegged hopefully to a cord that ran from one corner of the mantel to the other. Maybe it was praying to the Goddess to fill the stockings. It was silly and obviously fake, but it was comfortingly familiar.

The tree itself had pride of place, standing tall and green, and yes, a little lopsided, in the corner, adorned in a million ( no exaggeration) shiny glittery ornaments, dressed in a spiral of golden tinsel and sparkling with red, green, blue, purple and yellow lights. A silver star sat at the peak, crowning the tree, like royalty.

And underneath the tree, a myriad of parcels wrapped in papers of green and red and white…

I startled. Gasped.

Oh, my Goddess!

Lying under the tree amidst the jumble of red, green and white parcels, was something - a golden-brown wolf pup. He was sleeping, curled head to tail, oblivious to my presence. But one look at that sweet shape, one waft of that delicate omega scent, and I knew, I knew that wolf was destined for me. Santa had brought me a Christmas present. A real present. A playmate. Santa Wolf was real!

I whistled in appreciation, a long low whistle that actually was more a growl than anything human.

The little nostrils flared, scenting the air, scenting me I guessed. I should have been quieter.

My heart leapt into my throat and I swallowed excitedly. This was the best present ever. Did it know it was my present?

Two luminous golden eyes sprang open, watching me. I stood a little taller, puffed out my chest a bit. I wasn’t very built yet, having only just started my twentieth year and still in the throes of adolescence, but I couldn’t help but try to impress a little. There was a funny kind of snort from the young wolf.

His eyes were unblinking as they tracked my progress across the room. He didn’t move as much as a whisker as I approached him, just watched me with those bright golden eyes until I slid down onto the floor beside him, my legs crossed.

He had the soft shiny fur of a young teen, golden around his shoulders, tan colored over his back and haunches. Tiny white hairs sprinkled through his coat, and on the insides of his ears. I was overcome by an almost irresistible urge to touch the beautiful pelt to see if it was as soft as it looked.

I lifted my hand to touch the fur, then I hesitated. That was kind of personal, wasn’t it? For the first time in my life, I found the dichotomy of being a shifter confusing. Could I touch him while he was in wolf form or was that akin to unsolicited groping?

While I struggled with the question, hand hovering in mid-air, the wolf watched me with his golden eyes. A pink tongue slid out and swiped along his muzzle and he flicked one golden-brown ear at me. His head lowered and he turned away, tilting the back of his head towards me. It looked like an invitation. I held my breath and hoped I wasn’t committing some cardinal shifter sin as my hand drifted onto his fur.