Tracy
A single red bag appeared in the back of the sleigh. Tracy reached back to touch it. It was the same slippery, silky material as before, but this time it felt tingly too. Did it have magic that the other bags didn't? She poked at a few places on the fabric. It acted like a mini trampoline, springing back into shape after each poke. When she poked something soft and squishy, she heard a squeal.
Tracy yanked her hand back.
A small guinea pig-sized lump made its way under the surface of the bag and up to the top. An elf face popped out of the opening. “Watch what you're doing. I don't remember poking you.”
The elf had a sprout like ponytail on the top of her head, just like the one Tracy had seen earlier that night. “No, but I remember you from the rooftop.” She also remembered the wolves and the troll and scowled.
“Well, you shouldn't have run from me,” the elf said simply. “I do love a chase.”
Jared had been watching the whole thing and started laughing. “Even I know better than to mess with one of the Inklings.”
Tracy might have turned her back on the little creature just out of spite, but when she wasn't snarling or sitting on top of her, she looked kind of cute. “Inkling?” Tracy tested the sound of the word. It seemed to apply to the girl staring back at her.
“Yeah.” She climbed out of the bag and perched on top. The wind from the moving sleigh made her do a backwards somersault. She balled her tiny fists up in the material, holding on tight so she didn't get blown away. “Inklings. Santa's helpers. You know, we're what people call elves.” When she said “elves,” she made a face like she was tasting sour milk.
“You're not elves?” Tracy asked.
“Here we go again.” Jared rolled his eyes. “Can we skip the speech, Sasha?”
“Us? Elves?” Sasha turned her head to the right and spit. “Ptooey! Those foul little rats don't have one ounce of magic in their bodies.”
Jared turned around and sunk back into his seat. It was obvious he had heard this a million times, but Tracy hadn't, and she was very interested.
“And you have magic?” Tracy asked. Of course they did. She'd seen them transform into wolves and a giant troll only a few hours earlier. She just hadn't believed it was magic at the time.
The Inkling smiled smugly at Tracy. “We're made of magic. Watch this.” She closed her eyes. Her body melted into a ball of yellow swirls, exactly like the magic that had filled the box back in Chris' barn.
“That's amazing!” Tracy said.
Chris kept his eyes on his reindeer as they soared over the Cyprus trees. He smiled as if he knew that Sasha was showing off. “The time came when I needed someone to help me with deliveries. I made a simple wish, opened the box, and they came running out.” Chris spoke fondly of the memory. “I haven't been able to tame them since.”
The Inkling blew a raspberry at Chris, but she did it with a smile. Sasha's round brown eyes said everything. She adored that man, her Santa Claus.
Tracy realized it was the first time she had ever thought of Chris as Santa, and she wondered how she hadn't known it the moment she met him. Now, as she looked at his profile—his long, white beard, his rosy cheeks, his shining eyes—she knew there was no way he could ever be anything but Santa. So why did he quit? “Hey, Chris? Why did you…?”
“First house!” Sasha squeaked over Chris' shoulder. “Let's do this!”