Santa knelt beside Bishop’s frozen form, his breath curling in the icy air. His gloved hand trembled slightly as he rested it on his best friend’s shoulder. Trying to talk through the cold mist, he said, glancing up at me:

“Rudolph… status?”

“North Pole is down. Your wife was still inside. And they took Ponia,” I stated hurriedly.

“It’s just us then,” he said blankly, a bit of mist forming in his eyes, likely due to the news of Mrs. Clause. Then, stroking his beard, he added, “Why Ponia?”

“Hostage,” I guessed, shaking my head. Ponia wasn’t anything special—except to me. She was my closest friend, and those coal nuggets took her.

“I see. Hey, Rudolph… how did you escape?” he questioned, curiosity tilting his head.

I scuffed my hoof, avoiding his gaze. “Uh, I guess I was out for a midnight flight when everything happened.”

Santa narrowed his eyes, then relaxed his face. I got the impression he knew more than he let on.

The truth was that even after that one foggy night when I saved Christmas, the other reindeer still wouldn’t let me play in any of their games. I was still the oddball with the glowing nose.

Santa wouldn’t understand. But Mrs. Claus did. She gave me a magic silver bell to give to someone I cared about—to help me make a friend. She told me she would save that person if they were in trouble. Just like I saved everyone’s Christmas that time. I decided to change the subject before I got emotional.

“That crazy elf did what he had to,” I said, nudging Bishop’s frozen shoulder with my snout. “And you returned the favor.”

Fudge dripped from a cracked pipe nearby, sizzling against the icy floor, as Santa’s eyes flicked to the hench-snowman statue against the far wall. Nookie’s stumpy nose rested permanently sealed under ice.

“Small victories,” Santa sighed, pulling himself up. His iLolli® phone buzzed sharply, and he twisted the bottom. A swirling hologram of Grinchy, the Grinch’s sinister older brother, flickered to life.

“Oh ho ho, Claus,” Grinchy crooned in his singsong voice:

I see you bested

Nookie’s crooked grin

But I’ve got Ponia

So that means I’ll win

Meet me at Pepper

Mint Glade by first light

Or your elfy won’t

Last the silent night

The hologram winked out, leaving only the faint echo of Grinchy’s mocking laugh.

Santa’s magic barely flickered at his fingertips. He grunted, his shoulders slumping. “I’ll handle him. You should be safe here.”

“Right,” I scoffed, ears flicking. “Like you handled the snowman? If Bishop hadn’t—” I let the words trail off, glancing away.

Santa opened his mouth to argue, but I held up a hoof.

“Look, you’re running on fumes, Big Guy. We both know it,” I argued. “If you think I’m letting you go alone, you’ve been hitting the eggnog too hard.”

I pointed to the far corner of the workshop, where my red tricycler sat under a tarp. Santa raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”

“You snow it!” I chuckled, then paused. “Hey… are you making the toy horses in the rainbow stable go wild? It seems like they’re dancing the Macarena.”

Santa frowned. “No, why do you ask?”

I didn’t hesitate. I yanked off the tarp with my teeth, then pushed his rotund form onto the back of the oversized trike.

“Git on!” I barked, tossing the tarp aside.

Santa hesitated but hopped on as I started pedaling hard, charging the mint-o-meter. Once it glowed bright red, I slammed the snow globe lever, launching us upward through the factory roof hatch.

Below us, the workshop groaned as icicles speared along the roof, locking it in an icy candy-coated shell.

Santa coughed, waving away the sugary mist. “How did you—”

“The toy horses. They clearly felt the approaching ice storm before we did,” I explained. “The signal from Grinchy’s call. I think it triggered the IC4.”

“Good thinking, Red… Um, iced C4? How’d they sneak that past the elves?”

I smirked. “Fudge flavored gift wrap.”

Santa’s eyes widened. “Clever.”

“Never mind that. Ponia needs me—err, us,” I stomped.

He chuckled brightly. “Ponia could use her friend.” Then he commanded, “On, Rudolph!”

We soared across the frozen plains, snowflakes dancing in our wake—my red nose guiding us forward. In the distance, Grinchy’s ride-on Christmas tree roared closer, Brooke sitting beside him spinning iceballs in her hands.

“They’re closing in!” I shouted.

“Keep going!” Santa called, magic flickering faintly from his palms.

Ahead, I could just barely see Ponia, tired and dirty, tied to a half-melted candy cane. As we neared, I noticed in horror it was actually a candy cane cannon. Brooke forced me to refocus, hurling an iceball, which missed. Santa materialized a toy bat and swung away the second one, but a third, riding the mist trails of the second, struck my handlebars. The tricycler spiraled, crashing down in a cloud of safety-mallow fluff.

I groaned, trying to rise—until I realized I couldn’t. My hooves were locked in ice. I was frozen solid, stuck to the handlebars.

Santa knelt beside me, his breath short. “I’m sorry, Rudolph. The situation is not very rosy. Looks like there might not be presents next year,” he whispered, seemingly about to give up.

I wanted to tell him to believe—like he had told me so many times. But a statue, as much as it might want to, cannot speak.

From the distance, Grinchy’s voice cackled.

Your magic is kaput

Ponia’s covered in soot

Claus, you’re just wasting time

It’s the end of the pine

With an unspoken command, Brooke pulled out a toy nutcracker and pressed the lever on the back. My worst fear was realized when Ponia launched high into the air. At the peak of her arc, the cannonball she was roped to exploded into a massive fireworks display. I wanted to scream, but I could only watch the light show.

I heard Brooke generate several more ice balls. Just one would be enough to finish off the big guy. But before she could throw any, a shimmering Christmas tree silhouette appeared in the sky where Ponia… left us. A rosy figure slowly descended from it to the ground, all the while singing Jingle Bells. My eyes went wide.

It was Mrs. Clause.

And she meant business—her dual whip cream canisters gleaming in the starlight.

Brooke paled. “How?!”

“Misiletoe, we must go, ho ho ho!” Grinchy sang quickly.

“Miss me,” Mrs. Claus replied coolly, firing a steady beam of whipped cream that disappeared Brooke instantly.

Santa rose slowly, meeting her gaze, a bewildered look on his face.

“Ponia’s safe,” she said softly. “The magic of the silver bell is stronger than anything those coal freaks have. It was Rudolph that saved her, and me, by giving it to her. He likely saved us all.”

My nose glowed brightly at her words. Ponia was safe. And I had helped.

“Let’s finish this, tubby,” teasing Santa about his weight as she so often did. This time he just embraced her and said “Lead the way!”

Together, the Clauses turned toward Grinchy. He straddled his ride-on tree, and belted in a low voice:

You think you’ve won

Well this pine stands

I’m not afraid

Of those cream cans

In a flash of red and white, Grinchy’s tree sputtered to a halt and he froze. The Clauses looked at each other, confused.

“Checkmate!” boomed an unknown voice from the clouds.

“Wow! Thought I had you when I got your last Reindeer. Never thought you could win with just your Santa and an Elf. Nice one, Nick.” replied a second voice.

Then a third asked, “Hey boys, I baked some ginger cookies. Interested? What’ya playing?”

“Hey Mom, that’s a fer sure on the cookies! And this? It’s Christmas Chess. It’s basically the North Pole guys against this evil dude who’s supposed to be like the Grinch’s half brother. His henchmen are evil snowmen, gnarly trees and Jack-in-the-boxes. It’s pretty cool. So far it’s good guys one, bad guys zero.” grinned the Nick-voice.

“Sounds like fun,” the Mom-voice said. The second muttered, “Thank you, Mrs. Gumbel.”

“Your welcome, Malcolm!” Nick’s Mom said.

“Go again?” asked Nick.

Malcolm quickly replied, “Let’s play!”