Chapter 12

“Enough, soldier! Stand down.”

Rudolf’s hoof had clipped Pembroke’s freshly shaved cheek. He felt a blush rise and pour out the gash. But no hand moved to cradle his face. He let the blood run free. His eyes locked on the edge of the pit. He waited, muttering a carol under his breath, hoping that the creature would emerge, daring to flee.

Comet may have taught him to fly, Dasher to transform, but he had watched the polar bears and orcas to learn how to hunt.

A laugh wafted up at the reindeer, turning into a spattering, wet cough. “I’ll die before that if you don’t have a healer or…dust.”

Pembroke got up slowly, pleasantly sore, as if the Blitzen twins were still within. As if all reindeer dwelled there inside of him. Or would have, if not hunted into extinction by the elves.

“I say,” Pembroke cut in, crossing his arms against his chest now wrapped in the zipped-up warmth of a walrus blubber jumpsuit, “we let it bleed out and recycle the body for dust.”