Fia Rings the Moonpath — Under the sharp, peppermint-cold stars, Fia stepped onto the white hill and lifted one hoof. Read the full story →
Under the sharp, peppermint-cold stars, Fia stepped onto the white hill and lifted one hoof. Her new collar bells sat warm against her neck, but she wanted to make them ring only when she reached the far pine with the round glass ornaments. The snow was crusty and bright, and every step made a careful crunch instead of a jingle. “Just one brave sound,” she whispered, and her scarf fluttered like a little flag.
She trotted between the decorated trees, past holly leaves glossy as green candy, while snowflakes spun down in lazy wheels. The crescent moon tipped silver light across the drifts, and Fia followed it, faster now, until a tiny star-shaped flake landed on her nose and did not melt. It blinked. Then it hopped from her nose to her bell collar, chiming each bell in the exact order of the stars overhead.
Fia laughed so hard her hooves skittered, and the snow-flake creature sprang ahead, drawing a shining path nobody had seen before. The bells answered, ting-ting, bright and clear, not because Fia had reached the far pine, but because the moonpath had reached her. Next time you notice the crescent above her antlers, see if you can trace where that first brave sound went under the peppermint-cold stars.
