Koda’s Midnight Bell — The parlor smelled of pine needles and peppermint ribbon when Koda nudged the lowest branch again. Read the full story →
The parlor smelled of pine needles and peppermint ribbon when Koda nudged the lowest branch again. The tree looked tall and bright, but it made no music; the little brass bell that always rang from the star was gone. Koda wanted that jingle back before the house woke, so he stepped away from his warm rug and padded into the blue hush beside the wrapped boxes.
A soft clink came from nowhere. Koda poked under the striped box, then behind the square one with stars, and got a ribbon stuck around one paw for his trouble. “Who’s hiding?” he whispered. Snow tapped the window like tiny claws. At last, his nose found a draft beneath the smallest present, the one nobody had moved because it was almost too neat.
Inside was not the brass bell. It was a whole string of tiny silver bells, curled around a note that said, For every friend who listens. Koda carried it back, ringing with every step, and the sleeping house stirred into smiles. If you check the gifts beside him, maybe you can spot the too-neat little box where the first clink waited in the pine-and-peppermint dark.
