FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

1.

“Jingle bells, Lellemgurb smells, grandfather is old!"

“That's not how it goes, Ayly."

“Uh huh so!" The tiny black and purple hatchling giggled from the back seat of The Coyote's car. “It's better now!"

The Coyote smirked, glancing over at the old black dragon in his passenger seat. Hints of gray marked him where blue scales once lay. “Is that true, Valyrym? Are the lyrics better now?"

Before Valyrym could reply, the little hatchling reiterated the new lyrics, singing even louder than before. “Jingle bells! Lellemgurb smells! Grandfather is old!"

“I can agree with part of that assessment." Valyrym tugged the seatbelt back and forth, trying to adjust it across his plated chest. “But not the last bit." He tugged on the belt again, snarling. “Why must your world always give me so many issues?"

The Coyote stopped at a red light. “Because you're trying to hard." He glanced at Valyrym again, one tan furred ear pinned back. “How did you even get it so twisted?"

“Grandfather's bad at this world." Ayly put her front paws on the back of Valyrym's seat, one blue, one purple. She lowered her voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “Because he's old."

“I am not bad at this world." Valyrym snarled and gave the seat belt a yank. With a loud tearing sound it ripped from its moorings and dropped across his haunches. “Erm…I meant to do that."

The Coyote sighed as the light changed, and he accelerated forward. “You meant to break my car?"

“Yes, because it's a piece of garbage that barely fits a poor visiting dragon!" He craned his long neck to gaze back at Ayly, his ridged horns scraping the ceiling. “And your grandfather isn't that old, dear. Especially not in The Coyote's world. Why, when I first saw your father again, I was withered and gray almost everywhere. At least here, The Coyote allows me to regain a measure of my youth, and a good deal more of my dignity." He snorted, flared his spiny frills and glared at The Coyote. “Unlike the rest of my time spent in your tales."

The Coyote laughed, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “You're plenty dignified."

“You have me limping around, muttering to myself, and talking to stuffed animals!" Valyrym rumbled low in his throat, glaring at The Coyote.

“Well, you heard Ayly." He waved his hand at the giggling hatchling. “You're old. Why, at your age, it's perfectly normal to get a little-"

“I am not senile!" Valyrym snarled and thumped his tail. The spines that tipped it caught in the cup holder, and tore it free from alongside the seat. “Oh, damn!"

The Coyote grunted, shaking his head, his ears splayed. “Quit breakin' my car, or I'm gonna make you incontinent in the next installment!"

“You wouldn't dare!" Valyrym hissed, then curled his tail, the broken cup holder hanging from one of his spines.

Ayly hopped to the other side of the car, and braced her colorful forepaws on the Coyote's seat. She arched her neck around the seat. “What's incompetent?"

“Incontinent." The Coyote smirked, watching Valyrym flick his tail back and forth in a vain attempt to free the cup-holder. It spun around the spine but would not come free. “Incompetent is something else that your grandfather also is."

“Go eat garbage out of a trash can, you mangy scavenger." Valyrym lashed his tail harder. His spines punched a hole in the side of the door, but the cup holder would not dislodge. “Damn this thing!"

“Note to self." The Coyote turned a corner, smiling as they passed a car decorated with antlers and a red nose. “Give Valyrym incontinence for the rest of the D in the D."

“Very funny." Valyrym snorted, flaring his spines. “I thought it was pronounced D.I.T.D? The letters."

“It is, for some. I've always said it D in the D." The Coyote shrugged. “Dunno why."

Ayly swatted The Coyote's tan-furred ears. “What's inconsequence?"

“Ow!" The Coyote flattened his ears back, grimacing. “No hitting, Ayly. I'm not a pompous, feathery gryphon."

“Giffid!" Ayly giggled and clapped her paws. She trotted back and forth across the back seat. “Jingle Bells, Lellumgurb smells, Grandfather is old! Oh what fun it is to climb, a giffid's back today!" She came to a stop, her little ears perked. Then she waggled her silver-speckled haunches as if ready to pounce something. “Where's Lellumgurb?"

“He's not in this story yet."

“Thank God for that." Valyrym curled his tail and lowered his head, glaring at the cup holder still wedged around a spine. “You'd best release me, Cup Holder, for in this story world, I can still use my flame, and I shall am envisioning a fiery end for you!"

“And you said you're not senile." The Coyote smirked.

“Oh shut up, and get this thing off my tail." The old dragon shifted his tail, holding its tip out between the car seats.

Ayly pounced onto Valyrym's tail from the back seat. She grabbed the hanging cupholder in her paws, dangling in the air and kicking her hind legs. “Wheeeee! Grandfather ride!"

“Ow! Ow! Ow!" Valyrym lifted his tail, hauling Ayly higher. “That hurts, Ayly, those are anchored to the bone!"

“Do you say that in every story?"

“You're the one writing it, you chicken-coup raider. You and all your damn callbacks! Now, are going to help or-OOWWW!"

“WHHHHEEEEE!" Ayly kicked her legs harder, swinging back and forth.

“My hands are full with steering wheel right now, Val." The Coyote flicked his bushy tail, trying to tickle Ayly with it. “Ayly, get down from there."

“No!" Ayly got her tail into the action, lashing it back and forth to swing herself harder. When Valyrym lowered his tail, she tucked her hind legs up to keep hanging. “Not till my demands are met!"

“Quite the little villain your son is raising." The Coyote came to a stop at a traffic light, then picked up a small bottle of eggnog from his other cupholder and took a drink. He wiped his gray muzzle with the back of a tan furred hand. “What are your demands, Little Empress?"

“I wants candy canes! And edd nod! But not your edd nod, my edd nod! And…and…do your magic! And…tell me what incoherence means!"

The Coyote took another drink, the set his bottle down when the light changed. “You know, for someone who claims not to know what incontinent means, you sure know an awful lot of words that sound similar. You're a real thesaurus."

“I'm notta dinosaur, I'm a dragon!" Ayly released the cup holder, only to pounce on the coyote's bushy gray and tan tail, instead. “Now meet my demands or the tail gets it!"

“Ow!" The Coyote laughed, his tail weighed down by the young dragon's weight. “Alright, alright, let go."

“That's not even what a thesaurus is!" Valyrym tugged at the rogue cup holder. Snarling, he tore it in half and dropped the pieces to the floor. “You're thinking of a dictionary."

“It doesn't matter." He tugged his tail free when Ayly loosened her grasp. “It went over her head, anyway."

“Not uh!" Ayly climbed back up onto the back seat and settled on her haunches. “Nothin' goes over my head. My me-flexes are too fast, I'd snatch it!"

The Coyote laughed again. “You've been watching too many of my movies while you're here. But it's reflexes, and I would catch it."

“Nuh uh, I would!"

The Coyote smirked. “My mistake. Anyway, incontinence means…" The Coyote scrunched his muzzle. “It means when you have to pee, you can't hold it, and…well, you wet yourself."

Ayly gasped, clapping both paws over her muzzle. “Grandfather has pee problems?!"

Valyrym recoiled in such indignant shock that he banged his head against the ceiling, a horn tearing through the fabric. “Ow!" He rubbed his head with a paw. “I mean, I most certainly do not!"

“Jingle bells, Lellumgurb smells, Grandfather can't pee!"

The Coyote burst out laughing, his ears perked. “That's…kind of the opposite problem, actually."

“Problems I do not have!" Valyrym thumped his tail, folding his forelegs.

Ayly kept singing anyway. “Oh how much everyone will laugh, when Grandfather wets the bed!"

That had The Coyote laughing so hard he almost had to pull over. He shook his head, his ears perked and happy. He drove past a beautiful Christmas light display, shining neon lights decorated a line of pine trees with shimmering brilliance. Angels outlined in red and white blew trumpets as they hung from street lights. He smiled, admiring the decorations.

His phone rang.

Ayly went silent, staring at it.

Valyrym heaved a sigh. “I'm not about to fall apart, am I?"

The Coyote gave his old friend a weary glance. Then smirked and shook his head. “Nah, not this year. Screw that sad crap."

“That's the spirit, 'yote!"

“Well…" The Coyote shrugged, grinning. “Tis the season, and all that bullshit, right?"

Ayly gasped. “Coyote said bullshit!"

“Oh…ahh…don't say that, Ayly."

“Valar is going to kill you." Valyrym arched his neck, smirking.

The Coyote pulled his phone out of his pocket, glancing at it. “It's not Valar I'm worried about. I'll just tell Ayly's mother that she heard it from Valar."

“Trouble is going to kill him." Valyrym rumbled, shaking his head. “Poor dragon. So, who's on the phone?"

“Just a text from my mom. Reminding me to pick up some presents for my dad on the way back if we have time."

Valyrym chuckled, lifting his ears and curling his tail. “You? Have time after the hospital?"

“Yeah, tell me about it." The Coyote scowled. He glanced at his arm. A bruise still marked the skin beneath his fur from the last visit. “But at least I have an early appointment this time."

“Still bruised, hmm?" Valyrym softened his tone, concern etched itself into his words.

The Coyote glanced over at the dragon. The air shimmered around Valyrym. A few of his gray scales faded, turning nearly transparent. He looked away and rubbed his forehead, splaying his ears. Then he chuckled to himself. “Just a little. Sorry, didn't mean to make you go all non-corporeal."

“My tummy feels all wiggly." Ayly flopped down onto the seat, huffing.

The Coyote glanced back, frowling. “Sorry, Ayls."

Valyrym reached out and put his paw atop The Coyote's shoulder. “We know your IV days are difficult on you. Especially around Christmas time. If you lose us for a little while, we understand. We'll be back as soon as you're feeling more cheerful again."

“Thanks, buddy." The Coyote smiled and reached up to pat the dragon's paw. “I think I got it this year, though." He glanced away, his throat a little tight, ears bleary. He cleared his throat with a growl. “Besides, don't I owe little Ayly some demands?"

“Yeah!" Ayly pushed herself back up to her haunches. “Do your magic now!"

“I don't have magic, Ayly." The Coyote giggled.

“Buh huh, you do so! You made stuff happen!"

“That was all just…" The Coyote waved a tan-furred hand. “In my head."

“Nuh uuhhhh!" Ayly stomped a paw against the back seat. “You made it happen! At the end! When you readed all the nice comments and got all happy and stuff!"

The Coyote scratched his head, smirking. “I do vaguely recall that."

“See?" Ayly beat her purple-rippled wings against the air. “Conquer nudity!"

The Coyote nearly slammed on the breaks, his eyes wide behind his glasses. “Do what now?"

“Conquer nudity!" Ayly's frustration twisted her words into a yowl. “You made it a conquer nudity!"

The Coyote glanced down at himself. He hadn't forgotten to dress for this story, had he? Nope, he had his new Between the Buried and Me T-shirt on from the recent concert. A black shirt, with an image of a hospital patient fallen to his knees in a desert, red cords rising and connecting him to the sky and the moon. And he hadn't left his jeans unbuttoned either, none of his animals had escaped the farm.

He sighed in relief. “I dunno what you're talking about, Ayly."

“The conquer nudity! You made it last year and the year before when stuff continued and was the same from the last Christmas story and more stuff happened and we remembered it and then you changed it and more stuff happened and now we remember it again!"

The Coyote's ears pinned back to try and quell the buzzing caused by Ayly's rambling. “Are you trying to say continuity?"

“YES!" Ayly jumped up and down on the back seat. “That's what I said! The conquer nudity says you have magic!"

Valyrym cocked his head at the furry driver. “You know, you have established an odd little continuity for these Christmas stories." He waved his paw in a circle, chuckling. “And after last year's sob-fest, you did make it clear that you can make all this crazy Christmas magic happen."

“Yeah…" The Coyote scratched his muzzle. “Yeah, that's right!" He pointed at Valyrym, and a bright red santa hat with a big cottony ball popped onto his head, between his horns. “Hah! Nice."

“Not funny." Valyrym narrowed his eyes.

“Yay!" Ayly clapped her paws. “Magic time!"

The Coyote jerked his thumb over his shoulder, and another santa hat appeared on Ayly's head. She giggled, bouncing. The Coyote snapped his fingers, and candy canes hung from her muzzle. The hatchling laughed and pulled them off, chomping one up. Little sticky red and white bits clung to her tiny black scales. The Coyote flicked his tail back at her, and bottles of egg nog littered the seat. A few rolled to the floor. Others bumped up against her.

“Yay!" Ayly cheered through a mouthful of candy. “Ebb nob and randy vanes!"

The Coyote laughed. “I think the happier she gets, the more she sounds like Scooby Doo."

Ayly munched up another of her candy canes, her voice half muffled. “What's a booby poo?"

The Coyote nearly swallowed his tongue, coughing. He glanced at Valyrym, who only shook his head and waved him off. Once the 'yote had his voice back, he coughed again, and shook his head. “That's a different sort of story entirely, is what that is."

“She's starting to sound like that knight, from your comedy." Valyrym curled his tail, grinning. He turned his head to watch Ayly a moment as the hatchling stumbled around between rolling bottles of egg nog. “Shouldn't she be secured back there?"

“In reality? Absolutely. In a Christmas story?" The Coyote shrugged. “I'm not gonna crash."

“Fair point." Valyrym rumbled laughter, watching his granddaughter tear open a bottle of egg nog and guzzle it. At least she guzzled half of it. The other half she got all over her scales and the seat of the car. “You are, however, going to be responsible for her sugar rush. You'd think you'd have learned not to give her egg nog and candy canes after the mess she caused last year!"

“She only caused that mess because her lazy grandfather decided to take a nap instead of supervising her while I was shopping, like he was supposed to!"

“I don't remember it that way." Valyrym tossed his head, thumping it against the roof. He grunted, rubbing between his horns with a paw. “All I remember is how adorably snuggly you were with all that soft bushy fur." He blinked and hissed. “Stop that!"

The Coyote smirked. “You can't fault me for making you speak the truth."

“It isn't fair for you to make me admit how much I want to cuddle your delightful tail!" The dragon flailed his wings, buffeting the coyote and the car door. “Fine, whatever! Let her have all the sugar she wants. It's your hospital she's going to trash."

****

2.

A cool breeze swirled around Lord Asterbury, the All-Knowing Urd'thin as he returned to existence. Fog filled his head, and strains of music filled his ears. The gray-furred urd'thin opened his eyes. He found himself crouched in an unfamiliar forest, earth and dead leaves beneath him. He glanced down at his silvery-gray body. He was nude, the earth charred beneath his feet. Slowly, the Urd'thin rose, and leveled his steely gaze at a house at the edge of the wood.

“Oooh, I'm naked!" Asterbury cackled. “And I've made a crater this time. Just like the Terminator!" He paused, blinked, and then clapped his hands. “Ooh, a whole new world of references to make! Wonderful."

Asterbury gazed around, trying to figure out where he'd ended up now. He was in a forest, but judging by the short distance to the local houses, not a very large one. A smooth looking pathway ran through the woods. He walked over to it, rubbed his bare footpads against the surface. Rough. Not cobblestone or wood but…asphalt, maybe? Then, that would mean…

The urd'thin peered at the houses through the trees. Brilliant white lights outlined one of them. Another home was lined with sparkling blue lights, while another bore a veritable rainbow of gaudy holiday decorations. Reflective paper snowmen on sticks lined a walkway. A fat man filled with hot air and dressed in ugly red clothes wobbled about in one yard, while an inflatable Santa bobbled near him.

“Damn angry drunkard."

Still…shining lights? Ornamental snow people? Fat people in red clothes and angry drunkards? That could only mean one thing. A smile crept across Asterbury's muzzle as he realized he hadn't just stumbled into some random tale this time. Oh no, this was something far more exciting.

“Oooh, goody!" Glee twisted the urd'thin's voice, and pirouetted in a flamboyant circle. “Now I get to wreak some real havoc!"

The breeze ruffled the soft gray fur that covered the urd'thin's naked body. The wind was cool, but not cold. He glanced at the afternoon sky. It was clear and blue. Asterbury scowled. The weather hardly fit the theme. Well, that was easily fixed enough. Asterbury rubbed his hands together, focusing his thoughts on the story. He pictured everything as words scribed upon vellum. The land, the setting, the people, the characters. Words poured through his thoughts, a quill transcribing them letter by letter.

Asterbury waved his hand, wiping away the descriptions of weather from the setting. For a moment, the world went blank, and still. He waved his hand the other way, snarling as the vellum burned. As the old description burned away, new words took their place. The sky was filled with swirling white clouds. The wind whipped snow.

The world moved again. Low, white clouds churned above the tree tops. Snow fell heavy, driven by biting winds. Asterbury shivered, rubbing his arms. Perhaps he'd overdone it a bit, given his current nudity. That was just as easily fixed, but he had a far more entertaining idea than simply changing the story again to cloth himself.

“Got dang, it's cold out today!" The angry drunkard stumbled towards his house, and slipped inside.

Asterbury hurried through the suddenly icy forest, drawing icicles on trees with his fingers. As he neared the man's house, he caught a glimpse of a long street covered in snow. Cars that were driving on dry asphalt moments earlier were suddenly skidding around on freshly fallen snow. One of them smashed into another one, and the drivers jumped out to yell at each other. Another car careened off the road and right over someone's stupid inflatable snow globe.

Lord Asterbury cackled. Oooh, this was fun already. As he crunched through the fresh snow in the drunkard's yard, he passed by a window. A moment later and a loud, belligerent voice called out from within.

“Hey, Woman! I think there's somethin' out there. How come this always happens 'round Christmas? Well just git my gun!"

Asterbury paused, flicking his oversized gray-furred ears back. He'd read enough stories to know he didn't want to be shot.

“No, the other gun! No, the other gun. NO! The other gun. Woman, I only got seventy four guns, it can't be that hard figger out which'un I'm pointin' at!"

Perhaps he'd best rob another house. Still, he'd leave the man with a little Christmas gift. Asterbury clapped his hands as he crossed the man's yard.

“Hey! Who replaced all my guns with cheese? How the hell does somethin' like that even happen? I mean, I just polished them cheeses last night! Wait, now I can't even say cheese! Hey, how come every time I try to say cheese, I say gun? Wait, I just said it! Woman! Bring me that cheese, somethin' funny's happenin'! No, the other cheese! No the other cheese, the cheddar! Alright, alright, finish makin' your gun dip first."

“Perfect!"

Laughing, Asterbury skipped naked through the snow. At least his fur kept him a little warm. And if the sight of a naked urd'thin offended the locals? All the better. May as well have a little fun while he was here. He yanked out a few plugs, plunging ornate Christmas displays into darkness. He tipped over a wooden santa, and re-arranged reindeer displays in the lewdest positions he could think of. He took a large, lighted icicle, and stuck it on the crotch of a snowman.

With his season mischief temporarily complete, Asterbury slipped around behind a house. He clambered over the fence, and hopped into the backyard. Immediately, a black and white pit bull jumped to its paws and charged at him, barking and snarling. Asterbury waved his hand, and the pit bull was but a yapping pup, playing in the snow.

Asterbury walked to the house's back door. It was a sliding glass door, but that wasn't dramatic enough. He tapped it with his fingers, and turned it into a simple wooden door, instead. He took a breath, smiled, and then kicked the door open. It nearly flew off its hinges, starting the man seated at a table inside the house's dining room. He yelped and jumped to his feet as Asterbury strolled inside.

The urd'thin stared at him, dropping his voice into a growling, Austrian monotone. “I need your clothes, your boots, and your motorcycle."

“Aaaaahhh!" The man screamed, and ran into the hall. “An alien!" In a panic, the man ran for the entryway, skidded on a rug set upon the tile, and slammed right into the front door. He dropped to the floor with a groan.

Asterbury clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Not bad, but perhaps the reference is a bit too tired. Maybe I should go with a seasonal play on it, instead." He stepped back outside, then wound his fingers in the air in a counterclockwise motion. “Let's try this again."

Time wound backwards. The man got back to his feet, pulled his face back from the door, and ran in reverse into the dining room before he plopped back into his seat. Snow rose from the ground all around the urd'thin, returning the clouds above. Asterbury clapped twice, and time paused, then flowed in the right direction once more.

Once more Asterbury kicked the door in. The man yelped and jumped out of his chair, and Asterbury advanced upon him, steely fire in his voice. “I need your robe, your santa hat, and your candy canes."

“Aaaah!" The man screamed again. “A ferociously attractive naked alien!"

Asterbury smiled. Yes, that was better.

When the man took off running again, Asterbury let him go. Just as before, he slipped on the rug and knocked himself out against the front door. Asterbury waited, swiveling his ears. Satisfied no one else was at home, he wandered the place. The urd'thin helped himself to a platter of deliciously sweet cookies slathered with sugary green frosting. Then he gulped egg nog down from a carton in the fridge. He wiped his muzzle, spat in the carton, and put it back. He left the fridge door open.

With his snack craving satisfied, the Urd'thin set about looking for some suitable clothing. Sure, he could just make himself something, but that was never as much fun. He made his way into the living room, where a large pine tree sat in the corner. The tree was layered with twinkling, rainbow hued lights. Sparkling, spherical ornaments dangled from its boughs. Sitting nearby was an old fashioned European-style Santa Claus display, complete with a flowing golden robe lined with white fur and leather boots. The entire display was just about as tall as he was.

“Perfect."

Asterbury pulled the robe off the stand, adjusted it slightly to fit, and then put it on, buckling it up. He traced his fingers around the boots, widening them to fit his feet, then stepped into them, and buckled those up as well. He straightened, and yanked a red velvet Santa hat from off another display. He tugged on it, enlarged it, and then pulled it over his head so that his oversized gray ears peeked out, and his little back horns protruded from beneath it.

“Now, let's see…" He spun around on his toes, his bushy tail poking through the back of the robe. “Shall I pull the old, villain tries to ruin Christmas trope?" He rubbed his muzzle, shaking his head. “Maybe the bad guy learns the spirit of Christmas and saves the day, cliché? Mmm, maybe, maybe."

He snatched up a candy cane from a bowl, and stuck it in his muzzle. Then an idea crept into his brain, and a wicked grin spread over his muzzle. Asterbury returned to the kitchen and yanked a drawer open. He retrieved the biggest knife he could find, brandishing it as it savored the minty candy.

“No…no." He thumped the knife against his paw, and then cackled. “Let's just go to The Coyote's house and see how badly I can screw up this story!"

****

3.

The Coyote spread Christmas in his wake as he strode the hospital halls. His steps left imprints of white snow on the old blue carpets. Vines of silver tinsel with leaves of stars and bells crept up the walls. Streamers of lights twisted themselves around signs hanging from the ceiling and around doorways. Colorful paper wrapped itself around stacks of boxers. Ribbons tied themselves into bows.

Spider webs of snow-dusted garlands wove themselves into being. A team of doctors passed the coyote, discussing a patient in hushed voices. As the doctors walked by, tendrilds of garland lashed out and snatched the group of doctors in festive grasp, hauling the wriggling to the ceiling. The men wriggled and twisted, entwined in snowy faux pine cocoons. Red and green lights twinkled from within the twitching displays.

“Erm…" Valyrym came to a stop alongside The Coyote, glancing back. “You may be overdoing it just a little."

“Huh?" The Coyote turned around, splaying his ears. “Oh…right."

He waggled his fingers, and the rogue garlands released their medically-minded captives. The doctors dropped back to the floor, coughing. They struggled back to their feet, glanced around in confusion, then shrugged and resumed their discussion, striding down the snowy hall.

“They barely even seemed to notice that." Valyrym cocked his head, swishing his tail. The movement stirred the fresh indoor snow into swirling drifts.

“That's doctors for ya."

Valyrym lowered his head to sniff at some of the snow. “Isn't that stuff going to melt and make a mess in here?"

The Coyote shrugged, walking to a non-descript door in a long hall. “Probably. But it helps me forgot why I'm here, sometimes." He gestured to the pale blue compression bandage, now wrapped around his tan furred arm where they'd taken blood a few minutes earlier.

“Makes sense." Valyrym approached the door, grasping at the handle. It was thin, elongated, rather than a rounded knob. He scrabbled at it a few times, then huffed and set his paw down. “Can you get this thing? And at least now it's easier for you to…" He nosed at the coyote, running his muzzle against his fur. “You know, all this."

“Yeah." The Coyote smirked at the dragon, and bumped the automatic door button. The door slowly swung open, and Valyrym just glared at him. “Guess I'm getting used to it. As long as they get all the needles into veins the first try and don't go…" He walked through the door, waving his hand. “Digging around in there." The thought made him pin his ears back, grimacing. “Then he worst part is usually all the waiting."

“Seems like you spend your whole damn day here just waiting." Valyrym folded his wings against his body and slipped into the clinical offices.

“Pretty much." The Coyote waited for Ayly to catch up. She was down the hall, seated on her haunches, stuffing the last of a cinnamon roll into her muzzle. “Ayly! Where did you get there?"

“From the food box!"

“What food box?"

“From there!" Ayly pointed an icing covered paw towards a trash can set up near the food court down the hall. “The food box!"

The Coyote scrunched his muzzle, splaying his ears. “Ugh. Ayly, do not eat anything else from there. That's the trash."

“Nuh uh!" Ayly licked icing from her paws. “Foods doesn't go in the trash! Foods goes in bellies."

The Coyote sighed, shaking his head. “It's a good thing you can't get sick while you're in my world. Now come on. And keep your voice down while you're in the waiting room."

“Why?" Ayly trotted in and gazed around.

“Because it's a waiting room." The Coyote closed the door. “They're supposed to be quiet."

Ayly walked past a row of chairs filled with patients and family members, loudly discussing the day's news. “Then why's everyone so noisy?"

Sighing, The Coyote walked up to the receptionist. “That's an excellent question." The receptionist passed him a clipboard and a form, and he followed Ayly towards a chair at the back of the room. He flopped into it, sighing. “Also an excellent question, why they started giving me this stupid wellness form every time I come here."

Valyrym settled on to his haunches alongside the coyote. The dragon's haunch butted against a chair, pushing it against another chair, which pushed another, and another, until the loud, grating screech of a dozen chair legs sliding against old floor tiles drowned out the sound of everyone's chatter and the news playing on a TV.

RRRRRRREEEEEEEHHHHHHHH.

The Coyote glared at the dragon, ears pinned. “They're going to think I did that, you know."

“Erm…" Valyrym glanced around at all the people staring in their direction. “Sorry." He turned his golden gaze back to The Coyote. “Say, as long as you're on top of things, why don't you just make sure they can all see me? You should really work on making your rules more consistent."

“And you should really work on being less of a scaly asshole."

“I have a scaly-" Valyrym blinked. “No, wait, that's something different you said."

The Coyote smirked, then tapped his pen against the forms.

Valyrym craned his neck. “So what's all that crap?"

“Actually, you just described it well." The Coyote pointed to the title at the top of the form. “It's a wellness assessment. They just started these, recently. Now I have to answer a bunch of questions on a one to ten scale every time I come here."

“That sounds stupid." Valyrym snorted, rustling his gray-edged ebony wings.

“It is." The Coyote cleared his throat with a canine growl. “Let's see. Fatigue. Yes, I have fatigue, because you make me get up early just to come here and wait all day. Plus I have shitty blood, so I'm always tired and worn out anyway. Six out of ten today. Oh, tiredness. Of course."

“Tiredness?" Valyrym cocked his head, licking his nose. “So that's…different from fatigue?"

“Apparently. Yes, I have tiredness, because I'm fucking sleepy." The Coyote gave a snarl, circling a number.

“Now, now, coyote, perk those ears." Valyrym reached out and grabbed one of The Coyote's tan furred ears, yanking them up. “There, that's better."

“Ow! OW! My ears!" The Coyote tugged his head away, snapping his jaws. “Cut it out, ya big scaly shit!"

“Oooooh." Ayly hopped from chair to chair, giggling. “Coyote said two swears! I'm telling!"

The Coyote smirked. “Who exactly are you telling?"

“Aaah…Your momma?"

The Coyote laughed, perking his ears, this time without Valyrym's assistance. “That's funny on a couple levels, Ayly."

Tapping his pen against the sheet, The Coyote ran through the rest of the checklist. “Depression? Well, duh. Anxiety…yeah, I'm anxious about the big needles you keep sticking me with. General well being? I'm stuck going to the hospital to get an IV every other week, how damn well can my being be?"

Valyrym rumbled, tilting his head his head to smirk at the coyote. “Ladies and gentlemen, our wordsmith hard at work."

“Pain?" The Coyote snorted. “Yeah, that's a ten. Cause there's a dragon being a huge pain in my ass."

“Oh, put that, I dare you!" Valyrym rubbed his forepaws together. “Then I'll get you visit you in the psyche ward, and you'll be free to dream me up all day long."

“If you get me put in a psyche ward, Val, I'm gonna be dreaming about Alia and Amaleen tag teaming your..." He trailed off, glancing at Ayly. She beamed up at him, and he swallowed, then amended himself. “Suffice to say there'd be steel toed boots involved."

Valyrym curled his tail to cover himself, grimacing. “Very funny."

“Why's it a waiting room?" Ayly propped her paws up on the wooden arm of the nearest chair.

“Because it's where people wait, Ayly." The Coyote twisted in his seat to rub Ayly's head.

Ayly purred, leaning into his touch. She closed her eyes, making it look as if her face was a solid mask of blue floating on an ocean of black, save for her purple-marked nose. “Why do they wait?"

“Because all these doctors are specialists for rare conditions." The Coyote gestured with his free hand at all the other patients, some of them with their families there for support. “So they all have lots of patients, and not enough rooms back there to fit them all."

Ayly cracked an eye open. “How long does it take?"

“All day, usually." The Coyote grunted, a hint of bitterness souring his voice. “Got to wait upstairs to get blood drawn. Got to wait to see the doctor. Then I have to go over to the primary hospital building, and wait to be admitted. Then I have to go to infusion, get a bigger needle stuck in my arm, and then…then I gotta wait for the pharmacy to get the medication ready."

“Shouldn't they have it ready before you get there?" Valyrym arched his neck, tapping claw tips against the floor.

“Should? Yes. Can? No." The Coyote bared his fangs, growling in frustration. “Because hospital! Infusion can't order the medication until I arrive, and give them the orders from the doctor. I can't get the orders till I see my doctor, and I can't see my doctor till I get blood drawn! And don't even get me started on what happens if the pharmacy didn't bother to stock the drug that day!"

Valyrym lowered his head and gave the coyote's ears a few gentle licks. “There, there coyote. We know it's rough. Don't get so worked up your fur falls out and I shatter and disintegrate again like last year."

“Yeah." The Coyote sighed, closing his eyes and enjoying the affection for a moment. “Still sorry about that. Umm…okay, you can stop before you get my fur all soggy."

“Oh, very well."

The Coyote chuckled, and set the forms he'd filled out aside. He folded his arms across his chest, glancing around. In the far corner, a beautiful Christmas tree stood, it's boughs sprinkled with faux snow and twinkling white lights. Red spheres hung from its limbs. A pile of assorted packages wrapped in paper adorned with Christmas trees and snowmen sat beneath it. The sight made the Coyote smile. It was good to see the hospital getting into the spirit. He lifted a hand, and traced a finger around the wood paneling that ran along the top of the walls. Strings of brilliant, LED lights in shining blue and red followed in the wake of his imagined touch.

Out of nowhere, a shiver wracked The Coyote to his core. Some strange, unexpected coldness chilled him, as though a spectral hand from entirely the wrong story had reached inside him and grasped his heart. He grimaced, his fur bristling up. He snarled before he could stop himself.

“Tee hee, coyote's getting' all fluffed up!" Ayly giggled and tugged on some of his fur.

“You alright there, Coyote?"

The Coyote glanced up at Valyrym, nodding. The feeling passed as quickly as it started. “Yeah, I just…weird. For a moment, I thought I felt a disturbance in the-"

“If you end that sentence with the word 'force', I'm going to slap you into unconsciousness." Valyrym growled at him, his spined tail curling. “Just because that movie's finally out, doesn't mean you get to join the obnoxious gaggle of pitiful memes out there."

The Coyote smirked, rubbing his arm and smoothing down some of his fur. “I was going to say disturbance in the space-time continuum."

“Oh, well that's alright then."

“Coyote, whose presents are those?" Ayly pointed towards the decorated tree and its many gifts.

“I don't think those are anyone's, Ayly." When Ayly's eyes lit up, The Coyote realized he'd made a huge mistake. “That doesn't mean you get to claim them!"

By then it was far too late. Ayly launched herself off the chair and onto Valyrym's back. Her grandfather laughed as she scaled him like a tree, then ducked his head when she clambered up between his horns. She used him like a springboard and sprang across the room. Ayly flared her little purple-edged wings, gliding before she hit the ground running. Her purple and blue paws scrabbled at the floor tiles before they caught purchase, and she bolted across the room. She tried to skid to a stop, and careened right into the base of the tree, sending packages flying in all directions. She vanished amidst the wrapped boxes for a few moments, only to pop her head up between a few of them.

She lifted a paw, and in a wide, sweeping gesture, pointed at all the presents at once. “That's mine!"

Valyrym smirked at The Coyote. “Think we all knew that was coming."

The Coyote leaned back in his chair, smiling. On the TV across the room, they were showing footage of a snowstorm. He watched the reporter, bundled up in heavy clothes, get buffeted by the snow while Ayly had her fun. “Ayly, you can't have all of them."

“But they're miiiiiiine!"

“Alright, just don't open them." He tilted his head. Wherever that reporter was, the snow was coming down like crazy. Lucky bastards. “They're just for display."

Aly was already tearing into the wrapping of the first box. She shredded the paper with her claws, ripped the box open with her teeth. As she tore it apart, she giggled up a storm, tossing bits of torn wrapping paper everywhere. Then she pulled the box completely apart, only to give a loud, horrified shriek.

“It's empty!"

The Coyote glanced away from the TV for a moment, grinning. “I told you Ayly. Those are just for display."

“But it's emptyyyyyyyyyy!"

“Ayly, I told you-"

Ayly hurled the shredded box at the coyote. He yelped, and ducked. She picked up another in her paws, shook it, and threw it across the room. “I want presents!"

Valyrym curled his neck to smirk at the coyote. “You see? I warned you what would happen if you let her have all that sugar. Now you've got to deal with-OWW!" A box bounced off his head and he pinned his ears, grimacing.

“Heeheeheeheehee!" Ayly giggled like made from under the tree. “Grandfather is down! Mission accomplished, return to the castle!" Ayly tore her through the side of the largest box, then slipped in and curled within it like an oversized scaly cat. The purple tip of her tail protruded through the whole. “Fortify the defenses!" She stuck wrapping paper over the hole.

“Ayly, we can still see your tail."

“Nuh uh!"

Laughing, The Coyote turned his attention back to the TV. Now the scrolling headline said something about a freak snowstorm, and an earlier than expected cold front. “Lucky bastards." He watched a moment longer, then spotted a familiar skyline. Clouds swirled around the skyscrapers he saw in the distance on his drive to the hospital. Snow churned beneath them, clogging familiar roads. “Holy shit, is that here?"

His phone buzzed. The Coyote fished it out of his pocket and glanced at it. “Text from Vatch."

Valyrym snarled in disbelief. “You gave Vatch a phone and I didn't get one?"

“You're here to keep me company, not read the comments on your stories, or look at your fan art." The Coyote chuckled, tapping the screen. “Besides, Vatch is watching the house. He might need a phone."

“You mean so the little runt can call a speech therapist?"

“Now that's just cold." The Coyote stared at the screen, tilting his head. He perked a single ear, the other one flopped back. “Arrr?"

“You look like a confused puppy. What's Vatch say?"

“Nothing. It's just a picture."

Valyrym scrunched his muzzle. “It's not his little furry bits, is it?"

The Coyote giggled. “No, it's nothing naughty. It's just…it's a picture of the tray."

He turned the phone to show Valyrym. The image on the screen was a photo of wooden platter, floating in mid-air, plugging up the hole in the space-time continuum made a few stories again.

“Why would Vatch send you a picture of that?"

The Coyote shrugged and tucked his phone away when the nurse called his name. “I dunno." He glanced at the breaking news report of the freak snowstorm. “But I don't like it. Anyway, I gotta go talk to the doc. Try not to let Ayly wreck the whole place while I'm gone."

****

4.

Lord Asterbury skipped through the quickly accumulating snow to The Coyote's house. He brandished his knife at the biggest of the falling snowflakes, trying to cut them in half as they tumbled through the sky. He stabbed an inflatable Santa in the back, cackling to himself as all the air rushed out of it, and the santa slowly toppled over. Further down the street, he spotted another inflatable, this one a big, green Grinch. With a running start, Asterbury leapt at it, and plunged his knife into the Grinch's eye.

“You're a dead one, Mister Grinch!" Cackling, Asterbury danced away from the deflating decoration and across the snowy street. He spun and pirouetted, calling out new lyrics between peals of screeching laughter. “You're a mean one, Asterbury! Killed a noble, stole his name!" He skidded to a halt, flicked back an oversized gray ear against his red santa hat. “Wait, that's not the right tune…ah, screw it." Asterbury hopscotched his way down the side walk, and came to a stop in front of his destination. “I'm here!"

A Christmas tree decked out in scintillating rainbow hued lights and over a hundred unique ornaments stood in a window. A garland with more sparkling lights edged the front door. Snowdrifts piling against the brushes out front reflected a little bit of the colorful light. Asterbury approached the front door, and rang the lighted bell with his knife. Someone about his height and with big furry ears and little horns hopped up off the couch and trotted to the door. Another Urd'thin? What a delight.

The door opened, and a chocolate brown-furred Urd'thin peered back at him. His fur looked luxuriously soft, thicker and bushier than Asterbury's. It stuck out everywhere from his charcoal gray long-sleeved shirt. Black buttons ran up the front of the shirt, and more black edged the sleeves. The urd'thin also wore a pair of ebony trousers with gold piping down the sides. The brown urd'thin cocked his head, one large ear up, the other flattened back.

“Who you?"

“Who I?" Asterbury put a gray-furred hand against his golden robed chest. “Why, I Lord Asterbury. You be Vatch?"

“I Vatch, yes." The Urd'thin narrowed his eyes. “How you know Vatch name?"

“Asterbury know all." A wicked grin split his muzzle.

“No make fun how Vatch talk!" He growled, pinning both ears. “Or Vatch get stick!"

“Stick, hmm?" Asterbury gazed down at the other urd'thins crotch. “Alright then, whip it out."

“What?" Vatch's eyes went wide and he took a step back.

Asterbury pushed past him into the house, gazing around. Presents were piled under the tree. The scents of cookies and egg nog filled the air. Beyond the entryway, platters were arranged in the kitchen, waiting to be filled with food and treats. The TV was on in the other room where Vatch had been sitting. A couple of black feathers lay upon another couch with crumpled cushions.

“Who say you can come in?" Vatch growled and put his hand on Asterbury's shoulder.

“Why, I'm here for the Coyote's party of course." Asterbury gave Vatch his most innocent smile.

Vatch growled under his breath. “You very early. What story you from again?"

“Oh, they're all the same anyway." Asterbury waved his free hand. “There's always a girl, there's always a dragon. Next thing you know there'll be a lighthouse and talk about variables and constants. Still, when you do something well, you might as well just keep doing it, right?" He whirled around on the other urd'thin, smiling at him. “As for me being early…" Asterbury put his hand on Vatch's arm, and danced his fingers up to his shoulder. “Maybe I just wanted to spend a little time with you, you sexy chocolate strudel."

Vatch's dark eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. “What?!"

Asterbury worked his hand over Vatch's shoulder, then traced a single finger across the silken edge of Vatch's sensitive ear. “What, don't you think you deserve a good, satisfying sex scene? I'll open your present, if you ask nicely."

“Ah…that very flattering…" Vatch pushed his hand away, backing up. “But…Vatch like female."

“Oh, well, how do you know if you haven't tried? I like both, myself, but it's been far too long since I got to fool around with one of my own kind, of either gender…" He stepped towards Vatch, running his tongue across his muzzle. “Sure you don't want to let me unwrap your candy cane?"

“No, no." Vatch waved his hands to ward Asterbury off. “That okay. Ah…you know…party not for days, right?"

“Mmm, should I pass the time, snuggled alongside you?" Asterbury followed after him again, growling playfully. “You know, if my paws wandered, I bet they could find a couple of hershey's kisses…"

“Nonono." Vatch shook his head, flushing bright inside his big ears. “You can…ah…wait somewhere till Coyote come home? Is much food. You help self. Vatch just…watch tv. Alone."

“If you insist!" Asterbury gazed around and padded towards the kitchen. A battered wooden tray hung suspended in midair, over the center island. “Say, Strudel, would that happen to be what's plugging the hole in time and space?"

Vatch stopped backing away. His ears perked, and suspicion lowered his voice. “How you know about that?"

Asterbury clapped twice. Nothing happened. “Damn it. Where are my hench-lizards and my negotiator when I need them?" He sighed, and shook his head. “Sorry, usually I have my minions sing a theme song for me, and announce my arrival." He flipped his knife into the air and caught it by the blade. “I'll announce myself, and you'll just have to take my word for it." He waved his stolen knife in a grand arc. “Presenting, Lord Asterbury, the All Knowing Urd'thin!" He bowed, then glanced up at Vatch. “That would be me, Strudel."

“You crazy person!"

“Extremely." Asterbury straightened, looking him over. “Don't suppose you're any good at theme songs? I could use a new minion while I'm here."

“Why you have knife?"

“Why you talk like that? Really, you're a regular in the series now. Trying acting like one!" He waved his knife at Vatch. “This whole 'funny accent' trope is a tired cliché. It's like you're not even trying. You give us all a bad name!"

Vatch took a step towards him, growling. “Why you have knife?"

“Oh, you know Urd'thin and their sharp things. We love them!" Asterbury thumped the knife against his palm. “What's with the fancy clothes?"

“What, this?" Vatch looked down at himself, smiling and tugging at his expensive shirt. “Is no big deal. Vatch just big main character now."

“Main character, you say?" Asterbury clucked his tongue, shaking his head. “Can't have one of those running around, mucking things up. I've got things to do, and a story to screw with!"

Vatch glared at him and snarled, balling up his fists. “That it, Vatch getting stick!"

“Oh, I think the time for playing with your stick has passed. I'm going to have to rescind my offer till you're willing to play nice." He tilted his head, grinning. “Do you smell something burning? Because I do. That's the smell of me, burning this little story to the ground. Now watch this!"

“Vatch watch nothing!" Vatch turned and ran to the couch he'd been sitting on, where a large, flanged mace of white oak lay. He hurtled over the back of the couch and snatched it up, then spun around to advance on Asterbury again, snarling. “You not mess with story! Or Vatch crack skull!"

“Oh, what a charming implement!" Asterbury hurled his knife at Vatch's feet. The blade embedded itself on the ground, slicing through the end of Vatch's boot, narrowing missing his toes. Vatch yelped and stumbled, and Asterbury surged forward to yank the mace right out of his hand. “And now it's mine!"

“You give back!" Vatch pulled the knife from the floor, spinning around to brandish it at the other Urd'thin.

“No give backsies!" Asterbury circled Vatch, laughing. “Watch this!"

Asterbury pointed a finger towards Vatch, tracing a line around him. In his mind, he wiped away the next few lines of the story, re-writing them in a flash. The vellum burned, and the story changed. The hall closet flew open! Tendrils of red ribbon snatched Vatch, and pulled him inside! He cried for help, but it was too late! The door slammed shut. Exclamation point!

All at once, the nearby closet door flew open. Vatch turned towards it, then gave a startled scream when cheerful red lace exploded from it, lashing around him like the tentacles of some highly festive sea beast. It wrapped around his arms, and legs, wrenched the knife from his grasp, and dragged him back towards the doorway.

“Krek! Is much trouble! Is bad guy-MRRRFF!" The lace wrapped around his muzzle just before it pulled him into the closest.

The door closed.

“Exclamation point." Asterbury cackled and picked up the knife. He tucked it inside his robe, glancing around. “Now where's your feathered enforcer?"

Asterbury spotted the big black gryphon lounging in the backyard, sheltered from the snow by an overhanging eave. Immense headphones covered the gryphon's ears, blocking out Vatch's cry for help. The gryphon bobbed his head, silver crown feathers rising and falling in time to whatever no doubt horrible music he was listening to.

Smiling, Asterbury spun Vatch's mace around his hands a few times. What to do next? Should he go and crack the gryphon upside the head? Nah, he wanted him to see what was coming. Heading for the kitchen, Asterbury spotted a phone sitting on the couch where Vatch had been. He snatched it up and flicked through the screen till he found the Coyote's contact info.

“Lovely thing, the intuitive tech in these modern stories." Asterbury snapped a picture of the hovering platter, then sent it to the coyote and tossed the phone aside. “But there's still something to be said for good…old fashioned…" He cocked back the mace, snarling. “Brute force!"

Asterbury slammed the mace into the platter, shattering the old wood in an instant. Bits of broken wood flew through the air, then reversed course and tumbled into the singularity. Everything in the kitchen vibrated. The walls shook, the windows rattled. Fragments of shattered time and space tore away, floating freely around the room like shards of a black mirror. Every one of them reflected another time, another story, another world. Asterbury threw his head back, cackling. His robe whipped around him, pulled at by the force of time being sucked away into the singularity.

He scrambled up onto the counter, dancing across platters. “Maroon me in that broken marsh-world, will you?" He snatched at a fragment of someone else's story, gazing into it, and smiled. “Oooh, those two would hate each other." He snatched another fragment. “Oh, and he'd just drive him mad! You want a party, Coyote? Why not invite everyone!"

He hurled the story fragments against the floor, shattering them. Dragons and characters from other stories, other times and other worlds erupted into being, groaning and disoriented. And all the while, time and reality slowly crumbled around them.

“Yes! Yes! Let's see you put this story back together now, Coyote!"

****

5.

The Coyote sat in yet another waiting room, another hour in a seemingly endless stretch of waiting. At least this one had a better view. He sat in the waiting area for hospital admissions, and over the top of the half-wall sectioning it off from the rest of the lobby, he could see both the fountain and the immense, nearly four story Christmas tree. Just like last year, the whole tree was decorated with peppermints the size of boulders and candy canes as long as he was tall. Myriad oversized lights shone like miniature stars amidst the many boughs. Atop the tree stood a life-size angel, her arms spread, white wings stretched and flowing blue robe rippling behind her.

The angel glanced down at the coyote, and gave him a nod. “Wassup, yo?"

The Coyote shrugged. “Ain't no thang."

While he waited to be called up to sign away his life yet again, The Coyote browsed his phone. He flicked through the sports headlines, scowling. Last year at this time, his beloved football team had just clinched their division championship. This year, they'd lost their star quarterback as soon as the season began, and had managed only a single win without him. He sighed, and shook his head. No sports joy for Christmas this year.

“Yo, whatchoo doin' Lil Lady?"

The Coyote glanced up to see Ayly clambering from bough to bough in the immense Christmas tree. “I wanna eat the big candies!"

“Yo, those aint real, yo." The angel waved her trumpet at the dragon far below.

“Where's a yo-yo?" Ayly cocked her head, clinging to a wobbling branch.

“No yo-yo, just yo! First a yo, then another yo, it's like…an exclamation, yo?"

“Oh good." Valyrym grumbled, flexing his forepaws against the thin carpet. “You're using the 'ending dialogue with yo' trope. Let me tell you, I was really hoping you'd break that one out."

Ayly leapt to another bough. A peppermint ornament larger than she was fell from it and cracked against the floor. “Oops."

“Aww, now you breakin' my stuff, yo? We angels is pure'a heart, but I'll put a whoppin' on dat ass if you be breakin' me tree."

Valyrym thumped the coyote's shoulder with a paw. “Enough with the ghetto slang trope!"

The Coyote scrunched his muzzle, flicking his ears back. “It's not…wait, what did you say?"

“I said fix your terrible dialogue!" Valyrym thumped his tail, hissing. “I'm starting to think that santa Ayly fought with last year was right, this story is Ho-Ho-Horrible!" Valyrym blinked, flaring his spines when he realized what he'd said. “Oh good, more callbacks to last year's tale. What are you, out of ideas?"

“I didn't write that! I mean…I did, but…" The Coyote pressed a hand to his forehead. “It just sort of…slipped out. What did you say a minute ago? Did you say…trope?" The receptionist called The Coyote's name. Grunting, he stood up, clutching his phone. “I'll be back in a few minutes. Get your granddaughter out of that tree."

The Coyote padded to the admissions agent and flopped into the chair across from her. She was a friendly lady, and by now she knew him well enough to fill out all his information on her own and just let him sign it. For the purposes of this story, he decided to make her a bunny. He waggled his fingers at her when she wasn't looking, and suddenly, she was a brown furred rabbit, he oversized ears twitching.

“Anything changed, Honey?"

“Nope." The Coyote leaned back in his chair.

“Alright." The bunny ran a hand over an ear, smiling at him. “Crazy about all that snow, huh?"

“Yeah, it's nuts." The Coyote drummed his hands against the counter. “I mean, I love the snow and all, but it's crazy to see such a big cold front dip so much lower than predicted."

“Good timing though." The rabbit tapped at her keyboard. “Nice to have so much snow on Christmas Eve. Gonna make getting' home rough, though. You gotta go far after you get outta here?"

“Yeah…over an hour. Longer with traffic…" The Coyote blinked. “Wait, Christmas Eve?"

“Mhm! Hell of a day to work, I know." She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Worse day to get stuck being admitted. Here, let me give your wristband."

The Coyote splayed his ears back as he held out his wrist. She wrapped it around him, mindful of his fur as she sealed it. “It's…Christmas Eve?"

“Hard to believe isn't it? I know time's just flown by for me, too." She turned the monitor to face him and offered him the stylus. “Okay, just sign here, initial here, sign here…I guess you know what to do by now. How many times is this for you?"

“Twenty, or so." The Coyote signed where he had to, scarcely paying attention. How could it be Christmas Eve?

The bunny passed him his paperwork and orders, and gave him a smile. “Alright, you're all set. They're ready for you up there Infusion. Hope it goes smoothly this time. Have a Merry Christmas when you get out of here!"

“Thanks." The Coyote rose up and gave her a smile. “You have a Merry Christmas too."

When The Coyote returned. Valyrym pushed himself up to his paws and shook himself. “All set for your next big needle stabbing?"

“Yeah." The Coyote read through his orders, scanning the date. December 24th. “Uh…is it Christmas Eve?"

Valyrym flexed his wings. “How the hell should I know? This is your world, not mine."

The Coyote grunted and checked his phone. It also listed the date as December 24th. “This…this can't be right." He walked to the elevator, and hit the button to go up. “I mean…I'm not even done shopping."

“Guess you're behind then, aren't you."

“That's not what I mean." He tucked his phone away, grimacing. “Something really weird is going on. I know I booked my appointments around Christmas. One the week before, and one the week after. So I wouldn't have to come in right before Christmas. Plus the days don't line up, right. It's like…time's gone all screwy."

The elevator opened and the Coyote stepped inside. He held the door while Valyrym pushed himself in, somehow squeezing into the elevator without trouble. Ayly dashed in behind him, her muzzle dusted with what looked like cardboard peppermint.

“That candy was yucky!" She shook her head and whipped at her muzzle.

“That angel told you it wasn't real, Ayly." The Coyote hit the button for the floor he needed, folding his arms. He glanced around the elevator, scowling. “Hospital elevators are a lot more depressing than con elevators."

Valyrym nudged the coyote with his muzzle, smiling. “At least you've a big furry convention coming up after Christmas to look forward to!"

The Coyote beamed, rubbing Valyrym's nose. “I sure do. Unless I keep losing track of time." He scratched his ear, then stepped out of the elevator after it came to a stop. “I'm telling you, Valyrym, something weird is happening."

“Well it's your story. If you don't like the way it's going, quit changing it so much."

“That's just it, though. I'm not the one changing it around this time." He padded down the hall towards the infusion wing, smiling at all the little Christmas lights strung up around doors to hospital rooms and along the nurse's station. “I feel like it's changing without me. Or…against me."

Valyrym came to a stop, cocking his head. “You're lying on the floor of a padded room somewhere drooling right now, aren't you."

The Coyote smirked. “Probably. Anyway, looks like I'm the only patient in here on Christmas Eve, so you two can come inside."

Christmas Eve. The words felt odd in his tongue, and alien in his mind. Like a wriggling parasite crawling across his brain. A thought someone else had placed in his head that didn't belong. It wasn't supposed to be Christmas Eve. It wasn't supposed to snow today. Sure, he loved both those things, but he wasn't the one making the snow fall this year, this story. But if not him, then who?

Lost in thought, The Coyote padded into the infusion room. He gazed around, no sign of the nurses, so he picked a chair for himself. He selected one in the corner, near the window so he could watch the falling snow while he tried to pick apart the knots in his mind. The canid settled in, staring at the white clouds circling beyond. He missed the old view.

When he'd first started the bi-weekly medications, the infusion area had been on one of the massive hospital's highest floors. The windows there looked out over the area, with a great view of the city skyline in one direction, and a broad view of a wide, massive forested park in the other. Since then, they'd had to move to a lower floor due to construction. Now most days the only view he had was over an industrial section of the hospital, with dirty silver pipes and vents and little else.

At least today there was snow. But…why was it snowing?

“Snacks are free, right?" Valyrym gazed around the empty infusion area. “I'm going to take Ayly to raid the patient fridge, get her some juice or something while you wait for the nurse."

“Alright, Val." The Coyote eased his head back against the chair, rubbing the inside of his arm. Hopefully the nurse would get the IV in first try this time. The last thing he needed was more immense bruises under his fur. “Bring me an apple juice!"

“I'll juice your apples!" The old dragon's laughter faded as he walked out of the room.

“Flattering you think they're that big." The Coyote smirked to himself.

Heavy footsteps in the corridor outside the infusion room drew The Coyote's attention. He swiveled his tan furred ears towards them. Whoever that was sounded massive. Maybe they were treating a football player or something here. The Coyote smiled. How fun would it be to get to chat with one of his favorite players while they were both stuck getting an IV for something? Granted, if anyone on his favorite team had the sort of condition that would require treatment here, he was pretty sure he'd have already known about it.

The door burst open, and in swaggered the biggest female wolf The Coyote had ever seen. Muscles atop muscles rippled along her body, her arms nearly as big as Valyrym's legs. She looked like a grotesque perversion of a bodybuilder who'd spent her life taking every steroid every known, and then been chiseled from stone that had somehow also taken steroids. When she held aloft a needle that looked more suitable for tapping syrup from a tree that sticking into someone's vein, her biceps tore through the fabric of her thinly stretched nurse uniform.

“Who ordered a spinal tap?" She flashed her fangs, crossing the room in thundering steps.

“Aaaah…" The Coyote's eyes went wide behind his glasses. He pinned his ears back, gulping. “I'm…just supposed to be getting an IV…for medication…Where…where are the usual nurses?"

“Went home for Christmas!" The nurse towered over The Coyote, flashing razor honed teeth when she grinned. “IV? Alright…I'll just stick this right in your femoral artery!"

The Coyote screamed as the gargantuan nurse slammed the needle towards his leg. He jumped out of the chair, and the oversized syringe plunged into the plush synthetic leather cushion. She snarled and yanked it free, whirling around. Her immense tail knocked over an IV pump. It clattered to the floor, and she kicked it aside.

“Get back here, you mangy little scavenger! You need your medicine!"

“AAAAAH!" The Coyote turned and ran, throwing down another IV pump behind him to trip her up. “Valyrymmmmmm!"

The towering wolf tripped over the IV pump, stumbled, and then caught herself, running after The Coyote. He snatched a bag of saline from an open storage cupboard, bit into it with his teeth, and then threw it onto the floor behind himself. The saline spilled across the tile. When the wolf reached it, she slipped and fell on her tail, yelping and skidding into a wall. As she struggled back to her feet, The Coyote kept running.

“Valyrym!"

“What are you screaming about, Coyote?" Valyrym popped his head out of the patient lounge room down the hall. His golden eyes bugged out and his frills flared when he saw the wolf. “What the hell's wrong with your nurse? She's all huge and swollen and bumpy! Has she been attacked by killer bees?"

“She's not my damn nurse!" The Coyote didn't even stop, he ran right past Valyrym, heading to the elevators. “Someone else must be trying to seize control of the Christmas story! Stop her! Stop her!"

As The Coyote skidded to a halt at the elevator bank, Valyrym charged into the hallway. The Coyote jabbed the button to go down, panting. Valyrym's roar echoed down the corridor, rattling the windows, shaking the doors to the patient rooms. The dragon lowered his head, and slammed it into the giant wolf's midsection. She gave a great, pained cough as the blow sent her hurtling backwards. The demonic nurse smashed right through a patient door, into an empty room. She struggled to try and rise, groaning. Valyrym bound after her, snatched her broad head in a paw and slammed it back against the floor. She jerked, and went limp with a wheezing groan.

“That takes care of that!"

“Yay!" Ayly ran around in a circle in the hallway, wearing empty plastic juice cups on her horns. “Grandfather's a badass!"

“Don't say badass, Ayly." Valyrym trotted back towards her, grinning. “But yes, I am. Any other problems you'd like me to deal with for you, Coyote?"

“I'm starting to suspect many." The Coyote jabbed the button again. “C'mon, c'mon, c'moooon!" Another elevator dinged behind him as it arrived. “Finally."

The Coyote whirled around to the elevator, bushy tail swishing behind him. The doors opened to reveal an immense, twisting staircase carved in stone. It ascended into darkness ahead of him, with torchlight in the distance reflecting on an iron grate. His jaw dropped. Clanking and rattling echoed down the stairs, and soon a whole contingent of men in blue and gray tabards over heavy mail were charging down the stairway. The Coyote backed away, his breath catching in his throat.

“What the hell are you waiting for, Coyote? Get in the damn-" Valyrym skidded to a halt and glanced into the elevator-turned stairwell. “Oh dear."

“The Prisoner is escaping!" The lead guard thrust his sword towards Valyrym. “Don't let that monster and his flea-ridden accomplice get away!"

“Oh, not this again!" Valyrym snarled, backing up.

“Hey!" The Coyote snapped his jaws. “I am not flea ridden!"

“Not really what you should be focused on, Coyote!" Valyrym picked up a chair, and hurled it into the stairwell. It smashed into the first guard and knocked him back into several others. The rest poured over them and kept running, swords drawn, bolts notched in crossbows. “Will you fix your damn story already!"

“This isn't me!" The Coyote thumped his palms together, and the elevator doors slammed shut. The grating sound of steel on steel rang out from behind them, and soon, blades were thrust between the doors in an attempt to pry them open. “I need a moment!" He turned and threw open the stairway door, only to find it lead to a vast wasteland of broken red earth, and shattered black stone. Searing hot wind blasted the fur back against his face. “Not going that way, either!"

“I'll get us out of here. Grab Ayly!"

The Coyote snatched up the little hatchling and flattened himself up against the wall. Valyrym picked up a small couch sitting near the elevators, reared to his hind legs, and hurled it through the window at the end of the hall. It shattered the glass and toppled out of sight. Cold air and snow swirled in through the broken window, snowflakes fluttering around the hall. Valyrym turned and used his spined tail to clear out the rest of the glass from around the window, then gestured with his head.

“Come on, I'll carry you! Make sure I fit!"

“Sonofa-" The Coyote clamped his jaw shut, glancing at Ayly. “Happy little elf. Ayly, hold me as tight as you can." He wrapped his arms around her, gritting his teeth. In his mind, he imagined Valyrym as smaller, the window bigger. At the same time, he imagined himself lighter than usual. “Do it!"

Valyrym backed away from the window, then charged down the hall and leapt through the shattered opening. As he hurtled past the coyote, he stretched a foreleg out and encircled him, pulling him up against his chest, even as The Coyote clutched Ayly the same way. The Coyote was yanked off his feet, wrenched into the air and out into the snow.

“WHEEEEEE!" Ayly squealed in glee, clinging to The Coyote. “Grandfather ride!"

The Coyote screamed as well, though his was of a decidedly different nature. “AAAAAAAAHHH! Don't drop meeeee!"

Valyrym beat his wings to stop their descent, icy snow whipping against them. He glided towards the parking lot, dipping a wing to turn. “You know for someone who writes these stories, you sure are screaming a lot!"

“That's because the story doesn't usually fight back!" He kept his grip around Ayly, glancing back at the shattered hospital window. “That sure would have looked cool in 3D and slow motion though!" His phone buzzed. “Land! We need to get to my car so we can get home!"

“Flying would be faster!"

“I didn't make this snow! We don't know it's safe to fly in!"

“Then make it safe!"

“It's not that easy!" The Coyote thumped a hand against Valyrym's chest. “Just land! We need to get to my car, I should be able to keep it a contained part of my story, it's already canon!"

Valyrym touched down on his hind paws, and dropped The Coyote to the snow-covered parking lot. The Coyote set Ayly down, glancing around. Snow dusted all the cars in the vast parking lot. White lights sparkled from within trees. The air smelt of ice. It had dropped well below freezing, and gusty winds swirled snow everywhere.

“Holy shit! Look at the hospital, Coyote!"

“Grandfather said a swear!"

“Not now, Ayly!"

“I wanna say a swear too!"

The Coyote spun around, only to see the immense, multi-building hospital compound being completely de-constructed, like a time-lapse film played backwards. The lights vanished. The outer walls were stripped away, starting at the top and cascading down towards the bottom. Inner walls crumbled next, mortar and plaster falling like the snow all around them. Paintings on internal corridors lost their colors brush stroke by reverse brush stroke. Soon, every building in the compound was topped by nothing more than bare scaffolding. Then that too began to un-build itself towards the ground.

“Coyote, I wanna say a swear!" Ayly tugged at his jeans.

“Okay, sure, whatever Ayly." The Coyote fished his phone out of his pocket.

“Coyote…" Valyrym glanced over at him. “What the hell's happening?"

“Time and space." The Coyote flicked his phone on. He grimaced. Another text from “Vatch".

Ayly took a deep breath. “Poopybuttweinerballs!" She giggled like mad, dancing in the snow. “I said four swears!"

The Coyote opened the text. Another photo, and this time, a selfie. A gray-furred Urd'thin with ridged black horns, a red santa hat and a gold robe sat in the desk chair in the Coyote's room. A maniacal grin stretched across the Urd'thin's muzzle as he pointed behind himself with his free hand. At the back of the selfie was The Coyote's computer monitor, opened to a story titled “DitD Christmas 2015."

“Oh. Shit."

****

6.

The Coyote rode upon Valyrym's back, clutching Ayly to his chest. They raced across the parking lot, and around the rapidly deteriorating hospital. They'd landed on the far side of the crumbling building from where The Coyote's car was. Heavy snow whirled around them, limiting visibility to little more than ever-shifting curtains of white. The cold, snow-scented air alternately ruffled and flattened The Coyote's fur, biting at the skin beneath. As much as he loved the cold and the snow, a band t-shirt and jeans were hardly suitable attire for a blizzard.

“Coyote, it's coooold!" Ayly snuggled tighter against him, her little purple marked muzzle resting on his arm as she stared at the white world beyond.

“I know, Ayly." The Coyote wrapped his tan-furred arms tighter around her to keep her warm. “We'll crank the heater up when we get in the car."

“Why are you riding me again?" Valyrym glanced back, galloping across the snow-covered asphalt.

“Because you can run faster than I can!" The Coyote smirked as the old dragon's body rolled beneath him. “And it looks really cool!"

“Aren't you a dragon at heart, though?" Valyrym snorted, skirting around a car blanketed in white. “Wouldn't that make this easier for both of us?"

“That's not how it works!" The Coyote surveyed the parking lot, rubbing Ayly's wings. “The Coyote represents the real me, the dragon's more…idealized. It doesn't fit the Christmas stories the same way."

“Oh, my mistake then! We wouldn't want to affect the realism in a story in which you're riding a dragon through a snowstorm sent by a creature you created!" Valyrym snarled, turning a corner, paws skidding through the snow. “I'm telling you, Coyote, this whole thing is going to end with a reveal that you've just been dreaming this up in an institution all along, cause you're out of your fu-"

“Ayly's listening!"

“Fudge…filled…mind."

“Yay!" Ayly stuck her paws out through The Coyote's arms. “Fudge! Coyote, I want fudge."

“You know, you said it in front of her earlier."

“And she got to say four swears. Now let's keep it clean."

“None of those were even swears!"

“Coyote!" Ayly swatted his arm. “I want fuuuuudge!"

“Later, Ayly!" The Coyote stroked her head. “When we get home and things get taken care of, you can have all the fudge you want."

“Yay!" Ayly giggled and wriggled. “I want fudge, and hot chocolate, and caramel, and donuts, and egg nog, and a Cleveland steamer, and-"

“WHAT!?" The Coyote gasped, pinning his ears.

Valyrym jerked his head up. “What the Christmas Fudge have you been teaching my granddaughter?"

“Nothing! I didn't…" He trailed off, growling. “Asterbury! Stop making my most adorable character say horrible things!"

“And who the hell is Asterbury? Showing me the picture doesn't help if you don't – Holy shitsnacks!" Valyrym skidded to a halt in the snow so fast The Coyote nearly toppled off his back.

“You've been watching too much Archer while you're here. And I thought I told you not to – Holy Shitsnacks!"

Ayly clapped her paws. “I want shitsnacks!"

“No you don't, Ayly."

“Uh huh!" Ayly whined. “I like snacks! And sugar cookies. I want sugar cookies." She gazed over The Coyote's protective arms. “Why's everything all smashed up?"

Ahead of them, car parts were strewn about in the snow. An Explorer lay upside down, its windows smashed in, a wheel torn away. An engine block protruded from crumpled bushes. Several sedans of indeterminate make lay stacked atop on another. A back door with no window hung from a sturdy tree bough. More cars and pieces of cars were littered all over the lot where The Coyote had parked. Falling snow muffled a horrible metallic screech in the distance. Then a trunk door hurtled through the air and bounced across the parking lot nearby. Dark wings at the edge of visibility flared, and beat back the snow.

“Let's just go back, shall we?" Valyrym took a few steps backwards.

“No, we'll never get home and fix all this that way!" The Coyote pointed. “That way! The car's over there. Just go!"

Valyrym pivoted, and took off through the snow again. “Can't you just…clap your paws and end the scene, and suddenly we're at your house?"

“Under normal circumstances? Yes!" The Coyote snarled under his breath. He flicked his bushy tail to clear the snow that clung to his fur. “But if I try that right now, who knows where we'll end up! Or in what story! I gotta focus on keeping us…well, us! Look, there's the car!"

At the far edge of the parking lot sat The Coyote's car. What had been a packed parking lot on arrival was now half empty, littered with shattered vehicles. But the destruction did not extend to the back row. The cars that remained there were covered in snow but otherwise unaffected. Valyrym came to a stop as they reached their lane, and The Coyote jumped off his back. He set Ayly down in the snow, and fished the keys out of his pocket.

“See? The car's canon, they can't mess with it!"

Sudden, muffled wingbeats blew snow in all directions, and a dragon dropped out of the blizzard. A massive female with dark purple scales that faded to blue, and black mottled wings. She landed atop The Coyote's car, crushing it beneath her bulk with a horrible, shrieking CRUNCH. She hissed, flaring her spines and fixing silver-white eyes on The Coyote and his friends.

“I'm sorry." The female dragon cocked her head, tearing what was left of the steering wheel out from inside the car. “Did you need that?" She tossed it at The Coyote's feet.

“What the hell, Aylaryl!" The Coyote balled up his fists, snarling. “What are you doing?"

“Aww, didn't expect to see me?" Aylaryl tossed her head. “Guess you just forgot to invite me to your little annual party, huh?" She growled, and wrenched one of the wheels free. “Here's your present!" The dragon hurled the wheel and tire at The Coyote.

“AAH!" The Coyote flung himself to the snowy ground and the wheel flew over his head and hurtled past Valyrym. “What are you doing!?"

“You don't care about any of us! We weren't going to get invited!" She snarled, ripping out a backseat and throwing it aside. “So we'll just have to crash your shitty party!" She flared her wings, then leapt into the air, snow and freezing air billowing beneath her. “Merry fucking Christmas, asshole!"

“Meanie dragon said two swears!"

As Aylaryl vanished into the swirling snow, The Coyote scooped up Ayly into his arms again. With a growl, he turned on Valyrym. “Thanks for the help!"

“She was at least twice my size!" Valyrym lashed his spined tail against the snow. “And I mean that literally! I fit inside your car, and she just crushed it! What was I supposed to, gnaw her ankles? Throw a snowball at her?"

“You know your fireglands work again my world, right?"

“So do hers! I'd have given her a nasty burn, and she'd have incinerated me!"

“Don't yell!" Ayly growled at her grandfather. “It's Christmas!"

“Ayly's right." The Coyote took a deep breath, and let it out in a sigh. “Her sappy, clichéd message is exactly the sort of poorly written dialogue Asterbury despises, but she's still right. We can't be fighting amongst ourselves right now. We have to work together and-"

“Please don't tell me you're about to say, use the power of friendship to save Christmas." Valyrym narrowed his eyes, unsheathing his claws.

The Coyote grimaced, fangs bared in a distasteful sneer. “Ugh. I think I was. God, now he's trying to make me look bad by sticking a bunch of horrid holiday clichés in my muzzle."

“I thought he couldn't affect you?"

“Not to the extent he can everything else. But if he's sitting at my computer, it's like…" The Coyote waved his hand, then grunted. “Damn it, I had a great analogy and I lost it. But it's him versus me. So instead of working together and saving Christmas, let's just get home and kick Asterbury's ass."

“That's more like it!" The dragon smiled, then cocked his head, his frills sinking. “Question. Why didn't she really try to kill you?"

The Coyote walked over to his crushed vehicle, inspecting it. He crouched down to pick at the rubble, holding Ayly under one arm. “I don't think it's that easy. This story's…about me. If she killed me now, I think it would…end. Her included. Plus, yanno, I created her and all. Plus plus, I do still have more powers here than Asterbury. I should be able to counter anything they do. The problem is that he can just…write it in, while I gotta actually, yanno, focus on it."

Valyrym rubbed a paw between his horns. “You're giving me a headache. So that purple dragon is one of yours, too?"

“Yeah. I'll tell you about her and Asterbury in a minute. First we gotta figure out how to get out of here." In the distance, a red jeep tore through the snowy parking lot, heading for the street. “Oh! Perfect! Valyrym, go stop that jeep! It's got four wheel drive."

“Can't you just…" He waved his paw at the smashed car. “Fix this? And give it four wheel drive?"

“This will be way more fun!" Still clutching Ayly, The Coyote clambered up onto Valyrym's back and wrapped an arm around his neck. “Go, go, go!"

“Fine."

Valyrym leapt into the air, and hurtled across the parking lot. A few wingbeats was all it took to propel him far enough for him to drop directly into the jeep's path. The red jeep slammed on the breaks, sliding and careering through the snow straight for the dragon. The Coyote dropped into the street and threw his hand towards the jeep, willing it to stop in time. It skidded to a halt at the last moment, its hood brushing up against the canine's palm.

“Cutting it a little close, aren't you?" Valyrym pawed at the snow, hissing.

“Doing the best I can, buddy. These things are tough today!" The Coyote set Ayly down, grinning. “Now watch this!"

The Coyote scrambled around the side of the jeep, willing the door to be unlocked. He yanked the handle and threw the passenger door open. Inside was a terrified looking older man with wild gray hair. He stared first at the black dragon standing before him with wide, disbelieving eyes. Then as The Coyote got in and settled into the passenger seat, the man turned to stare at the canine, his jaw hanging open.

The Coyote slowly, deliberately turned his head to give the man a dead-eyed stare. His voice was all steely monotone. “Get. Out."

The man threw the door open and took off running into the snow. The Coyote burst out laughing as he scrambled over to the driver's seat. “I always wanted to do that! Quick, get in!"

Valyrym forced his way in through the passenger door and settled against the seat. It creaked beneath his weight, and the coyote glanced over. He imagined Valyrym a little smaller, and the dragon fit better, his tail hanging out the door. Ayly scrambled up Valyrym's tail, making her grandfather yelp at all the little claw-pricks.

“Ow! Ow! Ayly…never mind, just get in here." He picked up Ayly in his paws, set her on the console, and pulled the door shut. “You know, if that female dragon comes back, you're going to have to make me full size again."

“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." The Coyote threw the car in gear, engaged the four wheel drive, and eased forward through the snowy parking lot. He drove around a broken pick-up truck, and a van with a shorn off roof. “That dragon's got a lot of anger to work out." He glanced at Valyrym. “Now buckle up." Then he patted Ayly, and pointed to the back. “Ayly, you're gonna need a car seat." He waggled his fingers, willing a dragon-appropriate car seat into being. “Get settled in, it'll buckle up around you."

Valyrym cocked his head. “I thought she didn't need one of those in a Christmas story."

The Coyote grimaced, setting the windshield wipers on high, and turning up the heat. “I'm not longer in full control of this story. I think things are gonna get bumpy."

****

7.

“Get out?" Asterbury snarled at the monitor, reading the words that appeared across it. “Get. Out?" He slammed his fist against The Coyote's battered desk. “I make the Terminator references around!"

Asterbury snatched up a red velvet Christmas cookie, looted from the Coyote's party supplies, and crammed it in his muzzle. He growled under his breath as he chewed it. At least the was cookie was delicious. The urd'thin swallowed, and washed it down with a long gulp of egg nog right out of the jug. He wiped his muzzle with his paw, snorting. He hurled the half-empty bottle across the room, splattering egg nog everywhere.

“Whoops." He snorted, then bit the top off another jug and spat it out. “I'm gonna make you use the oldest, stupidest reference…Or maybe I'll make Valyrym say something how he can't even see the road, and The Coyote can make a joke about how they don't need roads where they're going! Hah! Then he'd just look like an idiot desperate to make another cheap pop culture reference. Stupid Coyote's a walking trope! Everyone's going to…"

Asterbury trailed off. He swiveled his oversized gray ears towards the door, then glanced at the story. He rose up from the chair, pulled it back from the monitor, and picked up Vatch's mace. The urd' thin spun the weapon around his hand, counting down in his head. Five. Four. Three. Two…

The Coyote's bedroom door flew off its hinges as an enraged black gryphon exploded through it. Unsheathed claws flashed in the air where Asterbury's head had been only seconds before. Krek landed and barreled right into the TV set near The Coyote's computer. The gryphon's weight smashed the TV and its stand into the wall, breaking wood and shattering the screen.

“You missed." Asterbury spun the mace around his fingers. “I was wondering when the guard dog would notice something was amiss! If you keep breaking things, The Coyote is going to fire you!"

Krek whirled around towards him, lunging at the Urd'thin in a blur of lashing claws and snapping beak. Asterbury cackled and danced backwards out of reach, circling around The Coyote's suddenly very large bed room.

“What'd you do with Vatch?" Krek surged forward, snarling.

Asterbury pivoted away, smacking Krek's paw with the mace. “Strudel? Oh, don't worry, he's perfectly safe. He's still in the closet. Hah, get it?"

Krek lunged at the Urd'thin, snatching at his robe. “You let him out this instant! And stay away from The Coyote's computer!"

Once more Asterbury twirled just out of reach, the gryphon's claws doing little more than tearing the edges of the golden fabric. “Too late! Looks like you're going to get fired for incompetence!" He jumped up onto The Coyote's bed, cackling. “Whahahah! Oh, but don't worry, there's always room in my organization for a sexy licorice muffin like you!"

Krek prowled around the back, silver-edged wings flared. “What the hell's wrong with you?"

Asterbury made a grand gesture with his open hand. “A whole lot of things!"

Krek set a paw on the bed and Asterbury lashed his mace at it. Krek hissed, jumping back. “That part's obvious! And what the hell have you done downstairs?"

“Only advanced the inevitable! It usually takes until The Coyote gets drunk for these stories to go off the rails, but now?" Asterbury flourished his golden santa robe. “Now everything's colliding with everything else! Time and space are meaningless and contorted, and I control the story's ebb as it crumbles around us! And crumble it will!" Asterbury leapt over Krek's paw when the gryphon swiped at him. “And you'll all be cast into someone else's story, just like me! And The Coyote? Well, who knows where he'll end up, but I'm hoping for Alvaranox's wasteland, myself! Or better yet, limbo itself!"

Krek launched himself up onto the bed, snarling. The wobbling of the mattress left Asterbury bouncing. “Why the hell would you-"

“To leave him in the same empty place he's left so many of us!" Asterbury waved his mace, snarling. “He won't finish our stories? Leaves us in the lurch? Then no one gets to finish his! Let him be the one wandering the half-finished world for all of eternity! And Aylaryl and I and all his other forgotten characters can rebuild his perpetual Christmas story for ourselves, and then we get the happy ending!"

“Forgotten?" Krek flared his crown feathers, hissing. “You and Aylaryl aren't forgotten! You're the ones he's writing about now!"

“Oh, you're right about that." Asterbury circled the gryphon on the now massive expanse of the coyote's bed, layered in blue and green blankets. “We aren't forgotten…yet. But she is." He lifted his hand and pointed behind the gryphon, smiling.

“How stupid do you think I-" Krek squawked when strong fingers grabbed his tail. He twisted around, his green eyes widening at the sight of a strange looking bald woman he'd never seen before. “Who the hell are you?"

The woman tilted her head. “Hello."

Then she lifted her hand, and with crackling light and a pulse of magic power unknown in the DitD-verse, blasted the gryphon right through the wall. Plaster crumbled and dust filled the air. Krek groaned and shook his head, and Asterbury leapt through the hole. He scrambled up onto Krek's back, digging his heels into the coughing gryphon.

“Didn't see that one coming, did you?" He laughed, patting Krek's neck. “Oh, she's going to be a lovely surprise for The Coyote, don't you think? Why, I'd wager it's been years since he's even thought of her. And speaking of surprises." He lowered his head to press his muzzle to Krek's ear, his voice a gleeful whisper. “I'm going to string you up like mistletoe, and leave you as a present for Aylaryl when she returns! She's gonna knock your ornaments around till you're singing Silent Night! Then she's really gonna wear you out. You'll love it, you kinky cup of black coffee." He paused, adjusted his santa hat, then shook his head. “No, I like the first one better." He patted Krek's head. “Better rest up, Licorice Muffin!"

Asterbury hopped off the gryphon and poked his head back into the room to smile at the bald woman. Behind him, tendrils of tinsel, lights, and wrapping paper snatched Krek up by all four limbs, hoisting the wriggling gryphon into the air. “Thanks for your help, Arala. Feel free to help yourself to the egg nog and cookies. And whenever you and the others feel like addressing your concerns to The Coyote, well, just take a peek at the story to see where you can find him."

Asterbury skipped down the hall, humming Jingle Bell Rock to himself. What would The Coyote do next in one of these stories? Ah, right. He'd give characters who hadn't seen each other in years a tearful reunion. That was boring. Why bother to unite characters who'd only have a tearful reunion when he could introduce people who'd really hate each other. He rubbed his hands together, heading for the growing singularity and all the story shards floating around it.

“Time to play matchmaker!"

****

8.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle bell, rock!" Ayly sang at the top of her lungs from her custom dragon hatchling car seat. “Lellumgurb smells like an old stinky sock! He's ugly, and stinky, and wrinkly too! Soggy Lellumgurb smells like poo!"

The Coyote laughed, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “Yes, that's very creative, Ayly."

Valyrym smirked. “And accurate. Can't you tell that foul bird to take a bath once in a while?"

“Oh, shut up. Krek's probably get better bathing habits than you do."

“I'll have you know that Alia and I-"

“No talking about the baths you take with Alia while Ayly's in here."

“Oh. Right." Valyrym folded his forelegs. “Well, he still smells like an old dumpster." A smirk crept across the dragon's muzzle. “Must make you hungry when he's around, smelling all that trash."

The Coyote sighed, shaking his head. “If you make another joke about coyotes being scavengers or eating from the trash, I'm gonna…" He glanced at Ayly again. She was smiling at him from the back seat. “Deck your halls and jingle your bells."

“Oh, you'd like to jingle my bells, wouldn't you Coyote." Valyrym glared at him, tail curling against the floor of the stolen jeep.

“You wish, Dragon."

The Coyote turned onto another empty, snow-covered street. They'd made good progress away from the hospital, but the whole city seemed deserted. Abandoned, snow covered cars lined one street. Another street had empty houses with doors left open. The Christmas lights were all dark, and brown, dead Christmas trees lay in the street. Another neighborhood was filled with rotted out, desiccated houses. And yet in the very next neighborhood, lights were on, children were opening packages under glistening trees, or playing with new toys out in the snow.

“God, it's like time is passing differently from street to street." He made another turn, licking his nose. “At least we're getting closer. I'm gonna wring his scrawny neck with tinsel!"

“So you going to tell me who he is, or not?"

The Coyote glanced at Valyrym, flicking his ears back. “His name's Asterbury. Lord Asturbury."

“You told me that part already." The dragon cocked his head, flaring his spines. “Wait, I know that name. Isn't he one of the nobles Alia had a run in with?"

“Yeah. Well, different Asterbury, but yeah." The Coyote turned onto a long, snowy street with only a few houses. “You're thinking of the noble that copped a feel and got kneed for it. He was, ah, Armadine's cousin. Armadine brought him up during the trial."

The old dragon nodded a few times. “Yeah, him. Why you'd name the Urd'thin the same thing?"

The Coyote scowled, baring a few fangs. “I…I didn't. I was…gonna name him something else, but…then he showed up in the story and…it just happened. He murdered the Lord Asterbury you know, and took his name."

“Wait, what?" Valyrym curled his neck into an S. “So this little rodent is canon to my world?"

The Coyote splayed his ears to the sides of his head. “Well…gray area."

“I thought he was from that comedy you're writing."

“He is."

“But that's not in my world…is it?"

“No. Well…no." The Coyote shook his head, chuckling. “Not in the traditional sense, anyway. Look, Asterbury went nuts because he realized he was in a story and…let's just say he's…got powers."

“No, let's not just say." Valyrym hissed and flared his spines. “Let's explain to the old dragon whose vacation is ruined so he can help keep his family safe! And you can start by explaining why the hell you invited one of your villains to the Christmas party in the first place!"

“I didn't!" The Coyote thumped his hand against the steering wheel. “But Asterbury doesn't need an invitation. He just…is. It's not the first time he's found himself somewhere unexpected. And it probably won't be the last. But I sure as hell didn't invite him." The Coyote grimaced, gritting his canine teeth. He sighed, his voice softened. “Maybe I should have. You heard what Aylaryl said. She sounded hurt about not getting an invite. Villains need love too, sometimes."

“Why does she even work for him?" Valyrym drummed claw tips against the jeep's dashboard. “The urd'thin oughta work for the dragon! And she doesn't seem as crazy as him. Just angry."

“She works for him because…" He screwed up his muzzle. “Never mind, I can't tell you. I can't tell you too much about…how Asterbury got here, either. Or what he does. Or how he does it."

“Why the hell not?" Valyrym stretched a wing to bump The Coyote with it.

“Because they're all spoilers for Revaramek the Resplendent." The Coyote adjusted the defroster settings as snow froze to the windshield. “People are reading that right now. It's still in progress. And after they read this, more people are gonna wanna check it out."

“So you just wrote Asterbury in to promote your own work?" Valyrym tossed his head, his horns thumping against the roof. “Real great idea, Coyote, that's working out splendidly."

“I didn't write him in!" The Coyote snarled, squeezing the steering wheel till his knuckles stood out against the tan fur of his fingers. “This was just supposed to a quick, funny little ten page story to make people smile on Christmas. It was gonna be you and Ayly and me at the hospital, and then coming home to all my characters throwing me a surprise party! Asterbury only showed up because…" He waved his hand, ears flattened. “That's what Asterbury does."

Valyrym stared at him, then gave a bitter laugh, shaking his horned head. “Leave it to you to create a character even you can't control."

“Yeah, well." The Coyote grit his teeth. “That's writing for you. Now we have to find him, and put a stop to this before it gets any worse."

****

9.

Amaleen found herself in an unfamiliar place. The one-time ruler of a nation and lover of a dragon had dressed for a beautiful, cold, and snowy Christmastime in the Coyote's world. Though her place in Valyrym's grand saga had come to an end, she still relished getting to spend time with her old love and all her friends each Christmas. The trip from world to world always left her feeling a little disoriented at first, but this time the disorientation was entirely different.

She gazed around at an expanse of dark water stretching in all directions. Ruined, half-rotted buildings rose from the swamp. Cracked wooden boardwalks spanned the front of abandoned shops, leading only to brackish water. The broken cobblestone road she stood on was half buried in mud and littered with weeds.

The air was warm, and she was already far too hot in the winter cloak she'd bundled around her blue dress. Gray clouds churned above her, and the air smelled of heavy rain just waiting to be shed. Instead of a forest park, a short walk from The Coyote's house, she'd arrived in what looked like an abandoned town, in the middle of a swamp.

“Hello?" Amaleen called out, her voice soft, uncertain.

The only reply came from the myriad insects and other swamp creatures, filling the air with their cacophonous cries. Amaleen scowled and gazed out across the swamp. Countless emerald lily pads marked the dark water. Fish swirled near the surface, then darted away. The shining eyes of aquatic beasts and animals stared back at her. She swallowed, wishing she'd brought a sword with her. But she'd never ended up anywhere but The Coyote's world when she made this trip until now.

She pulled curly, blue-black hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ears. How very odd. She'd never seen such a place before. Not in Sigil Stones, or all of Aran'alian, and certainly not in The Coyote's world. At the far end of the town loomed a large, rectangular stone building. She thought perhaps it was some sort of governmental office. Whatever it was, it looked in better shape than the rest of the town. Hoping she might find some answers, Amaleen made it her destination.

As she walked, she passed a fountain and bathing pool in a beautiful marble tub, sunk into the earth. Unlike the water of the swamp, the tub water looked clean, and clear. She scratched her head. Someone was definitely taking care of this place. But whoever it was, it didn't look as though they'd done any decorating for Christmas at all.

Nearer the building, she glanced out across the swamp.

At the front of the building, columns with fluted spirals spanned its front entry way. Statues missing their heads lined the walkway leading to it. She paused to examine one of them. Amaleen thought it very odd someone would carve a whole legion of statues without heads. She looked closer. The stone was shorn and broken across every statue's shoulders. A familiar sort of claw marks gouged them. A shiver racked her, and cascade of goosebumps ran down her body. She glanced at the large building, and realized it had no door, only heavy animal furs across the entryway. Humans didn't do that. Dragons did.

Some crazy dragon must have conquered and destroyed this town, and beheaded all its statues. But…if The Coyote knew this place, then…

“Hello, Girl."

Amaleen whirled around. A dragon rose from the deeper waters off the main road. Lily pads roiled in his wake as he stood, and rivulets of brackish water ran down his scales. Green markings dappled his back and wings, and Amaleen realized she'd seen him earlier without noticing. He'd been nearly submerged, watching her through slitted eyes. She'd just thought his green marks were more lily pads. Now he sloshed ashore, claws unsheathed from webbed paws. His spines flared, black and tipped with bright gold. He hissed at her, curled his tail, and flicked open his razor-edged tail webbing.

She'd never seen a dragon like him before, but she'd heard of him. “You're one of The Coyote's, right?"

The dragon, a little leaner and sleeker than any she'd known, skulked towards her. “What coyote?"

Amaleen backed away from him, furrowing her brow. “Now, you…you need not play ignorant."

The dragon froze, his voice an accusing whisper hissed through bared fangs. “You think me ignorant?"

“N-no." Amaleen steeled herself, straightening up. She couldn't let this dragon intimidate her. He was…just another of The Coyote's characters. Surely she could show him who was boss if she had too. She glanced at her boots. “I simply mean, you're one of The Coyote's characters, right? You see, I was trying to get to the Christmas party, and…somehow…"

“No one ever invites me to parties." The dragon skulked towards her again, lashing his razor-webbed tail. “Do you know why?"

Amaleen stood her ground this time, even as her heart hammered in her chest. Fear and anger left her olive-skin flushed. “I'm…sure it was just because…the invitations got lost. Now…now hold your ground, or…"

“Or you'll kick me in the balls?" He cocked his head, gestured under his belly with a gray-speckled forepaw. “You can try. If you manage it, I'll go down just like anyone else…" He smirked at her, rumbling a purr. “I might even like it. But if you do it without my permission, you're going to end up like my statues." He glanced at one of them, flaring his spines. “I don't like the way they look at me."

“You're crazy." Amaleen stepped back again.

“That's what they tell me, Amaleen." He snarled, advancing on her with serpentine grace. “And that is why The Coyote doesn't invite me to his parties. That and unlike so many of his other dragons…" He paused and pressed a paw to his chest plates. “I am genuinely dangerous. To everyone. So. I'll make you a deal."

“I want nothing to do with any of your deals."

“Ah, but your life may depend upon it, trespasser!" He snarled, baring his fangs. “The deal is thus! You bring me, as your guest, to The Coyote's party, and in return, I will spare your life, and even consider you my friend."

“And if I say no?"

“Well…whoever's writing this story wants me to say…" He cleared his throat with a growl, then spat an immense fireball into the sky. The red orange flames roiled above her, and Amaleen recoiled in instinctive horror, sweat breaking out across her. “That you'll go die in a fire!" He snorted, and snapped his jaws. “Too soon, I know. So I'll just…I dunno…drown you in my swamp, and then behead you like one of my statues."

Amaleen backed away from the dragon, breath frozen in her lungs, heart hammering. She struggled just to force words past her tongue. “I don't know…who's writing your lines…but I'd never bring a monster like you into The Coyote's world!"

“Then we have no deal." The dragon flared his wings, smiling. “And that means I get to hunt you down. If I were you, Amaleen…I'd run."

Amaleen ran.

****

10.

“Fine work, Kirra. You've lead us directly into a marsh."

“It's not my fault, Alv." Kirra glanced at the green dragon who sloshed about in the water nearby. “I did everything I was supposed to."

“Well it's sure as hell not my fault!" The big green dragon tugged at the black collar around his neck. “This foul thing won't even let me see the real world! How the hell am I supposed to guide us into a parallel reality if you're giving me bad directions?"

“Alvaranox does have a point, dear." The older woman with frizzy gray hair squeezed Kirra's shoulder. “That damned collar barely lets him see what's real in our world, let alone in The Coyote's. And you were the one who guided us here last time."

Kirra grit her teeth, gazing into the endless marsh they'd all found themselves in. Where the hell were they? She curled a strand of red hair around a finger, then clambered up onto a wooden boardwalk that lead to the crest of a small hill. At the top of the hill, she turned a slow circle, surveying the land. In one direction spanned the largest marsh she'd ever seen. Pools of dark water and walls of emerald reed stretched endlessly to the south. Cypress trees with tangled roots and gray moss hanging from their branches dotted the landscape. The blocky outline of a village atop a hill rose in the distance.

“What can you see?" Nylah called up from below, adjusting her flower print dress. “A fine place to land, after I went to the trouble to wear something nice for once."

“Yeah." Alvaranox nudged the older woman with gold-spotted nose, grinning. “About time you start dressing like a proper old lady."

“You watch it, you dirty lizard!" Nylah grabbed at his ear and Alv jerked his head back, laughing.

“Whatever you say, you old bag!"

Kirra ignored their bantering, and gazed back the way they'd come. The far horizon shimmered with heat. Cracked, sun-baked red earth spanned as far to the north as the marsh did the south. Specks of broken black stone glinted in the unrelenting sun like polished obsidian. The only trees that remained there were bent, twisted, and long since dead. Skeletal reminders of the live that once thrived where now there was only-

“Look, Mirelle! A real wasteland! How exciting!"

“AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

Kirra whirled back towards the marsh. A second green dragon, smaller than Alv, hurtled just overhead. Copper stripes marked his limbs, with similar colored blotches across his wings. He clutched a woman in his forepaws, screaming her head off. Kirra ducked as the woman's boots nearly kicked her in the head. The billowing air from the dragon's wings flattened down the grass atop the hill and swirled her red hair, tangling it. She glanced up, squinting against the wind. The dragon was male, and unlike Alvaranox, his own tail spines were thin, flexible, and lined with sharp webbing.

“Watch it, you big lug!" Kirra jumped back to her feet. “Alv, Nylah! Another dragon!"

“Mirelle, look! Another dragon!" The flying dragon dipped a wing, descending in a swift, rapid spiral.

“AAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

Kirra grimaced and hurried back down the hill as the new dragon landed. He touched down on his hind legs, then stood that way, holding the woman aloft as she felt around with her boots. When she found solid ground, she stumbled away from him, panting.

“Hey!" Nylah strode towards the new dragon, waving her fist. “What'd you do to that poor woman?"

“Who, Mirelle?" The dragon tossed his head, cackling laughter that sounded just slightly unhinged. “Oh I wouldn't get too close to her! She's about to-"

“HHHHRRRRNKKKK!" Mirelle vomited all over the boardwalk.

“Ack!" Nylah backpedaled. “Don't get that on my new dress!"

“Told you!" The dragon cackled louder, curling his tail around his paws as he dropped onto his haunches. “She'll be fine in a moment. Mirelle just gets airsick, don't you Mirelle?"

“HRRRRNNHLLLLGGGGHH!"

“Who the bloody hell are you?" Nylah advanced on the green and copper dragon again, skirting around the poor vomiting woman. “And why are you hauling this poor girl around like luggage?"

“I thought you'd never ask!" The green dragon leaned back onto his tail, and clapped his forepaws in glee. “I am Revaramek the Resplendent, your benevolent overlord! Which makes you my newest subjects. Welcome to my beautiful kingdom!" He waved his forepaws in a grand, sweeping gesture at the marsh.

“Your what?" Nylah strode right up to the dragon and poked him in the chest plates. “We aren't your anything!"

Revaramek ignored her entirely, smiling at Alvaranox. “Hello! I've never had a dragon subject before."

Alvaranox snorted, flaring his spines. He arched his neck. “You think I'm your subject huh?" He tapped the collar, smirking. “You better get in line." He stretched a wing, pointing with a talon at Kirra. “Little Miss Thistle here already called dibs."

“Oh!" Revaramek cocked his head, grinning at Kirra. “Is he your slave, Little Miss Thistle?"

“That's not my-"

“Yeah." Alvaranox smirked at Kirra. “I am."

“How very exciting!" Revaramek growled a giggle. “I've never met a slave, before. Well…actually, no, that was a story I read. Oh! Oh! You're from the wasteland, aren't you!"

“Are you even listening to me?" Nylah jabbed harder at the dragon's chest.

Revaramek glanced down at her. “No." He tilted his head. “My, but you're old."

“What?" Nylah straightened up, fire flashing in her eyes.

“If you're looking for the other old grans, they all seem to have amassed themselves in Mirelle's village. They're always making banners and weaving shirts and things." The dragon gestured towards the village on a hill. “They're self-replicating, I think. Like an amoeba! A very old yet industrious amoeba."

“I am not an old gran! Or an amoeba! And how does a swamp-reptile even know what an amoeba is? Let alone how it replicates!"

“And don't you call the Old Lady old!" Alvaranox sloshed through the water, up onto dry land, and then settled on his own haunches across from the smaller green dragon. “Only I get to do that."

“Fine!" Revaramek tossed his head, glaring at Alvaranox. “Then only I get to call Mirelle names like harpy and wench!"

Mirelle straightened up, wiping her mouth. “Rev, that's not helping."

“Just watch it, whelp." Alvaranox growled low in his throat, curling his tail to show off his own larger, curved tail spines.

“Or what?" Revaramek flared his gold-edged frills, then gasped and clapped his paws again. “Ooh, Mirelle, I think I've been challenged! Now I get to have a fight scene!"

“What?" Alvaranox cocked his head, hissing. “What's wrong with you? Why are you so gleeful about everything?" He lashed his tail, scything down a few reeds. “Gods, you're like a damn child."

“Yes!" Mirelle stomped up to stand before Alvaranox, glaring at him, hands on her hips. “He is child-like! But it's not his damn fault, so cut him some slack or else!"

“Or else what, girl?"

Mirelle narrowed her eyes. “Or else my boot's gonna find a new home in your balls, Dragon."

Alvaranox gulped, glancing at Revaramek. “Gods, your girl's worse than the old lady!"

Nylah whirled on Alvaranox. “What's that supposed to mean?"

“Nothing, nothing."

Revaramek licked his nose, staring at Alvaranox. “What's wrong with being happy about things, anyway? We can't all be mopey and depressed all the time about our lots in life!"

“Oh, I'm sorry, I guess my break from reality just isn't as much fun as yours!" He waved his paws, raising his voice an octave. “Ooooh, there's poison in the water, I wish I lived somewhere clean! Ooh, now I'm in a marsh but everyone hates me because I'm a big, fat jerk! I'll just dream up my own story where everyone loves me!"

Revaramek snarled, folding his forelegs over his chest. “Go drink another ten barrels of wine and pass out in the street again, ya lush. Oh I'm sorry, has The Coyote not posted that part yet? That's right, cause you're depressing and he's too busy writing about me!"

“That's where I know you from!" Nylah spun towards Revaramek and Mirelle, shoving her bony finger in the air at them. “It's your fault my poor Alv's story has been delayed! Again!"

“It's hardly our fault!" Mirelle glanced up at Rev, then shook her head.

“It is your fault!" Nylah waved her hand dismissively. “You've got The Coyote wrapped around your finger with your comedic antics, and now he's stuck writing a story only a few people are reading, instead of the one everyone's waiting for."

Revaramek lifted his frills. “That's not the one everyone's waiting for."

Nylah and Mirelle both yelled at him together. “Stay out of this!"

“Well…" Alvaranox cleared his throat with a growl. “Technically…"

Nylah glared daggers at Mirelle. “Keep acting smug! Have you any idea how long we've been waiting for Alv's story to be continued? And it's just sitting there, waiting to be edited! But nooo, The Coyote's off writing about the boorish and embarrassing antics of a dragon with the mind of a child!"

“He doesn't have the mind of a child!" Mirelle shouted right back at her, stomping her boot. “He just doesn't have the life experience needed-"

“He's an egotistical jerk who has delayed us yet again!" Nylah slapped her hand through the air as if she was smacking a dragon across the muzzle. “The fact remains, your dragon is the one holding us up! I ought to go over there and kick him square in the balls on principal alone!"

Mirelle stomped her foot again. “Oh yeah? You kick my dragon in the balls, and I'm gonna go kick your dragon in the balls! And I'm younger, stronger, and my boots are pointed, so we'll see whose dragon comes out best!"

“What?" Alvaranox jerked his head up, his frills splayed. “No! Leave my balls out of this!"

Kirra trotted over and stood in front of Alv, holding her arms out. “You leave my poor lonely dragon and his balls alone!"

Revaramek tossed his head, snorting. “Oh, admit your damn feelings for each other already! Oh, I'm sorry, he hasn't posted that part yet either." He pressed a paw to the end of his muzzle. “My mistake."

“That's it!" Alvaranox pushed Kirra aside with his foreleg, then rose up to his paws. “I'm kicking his ass myself."

“Oooh, goodie!" Revaramek rose to his own paws, shaking himself. “Mirelle, I get to have another fight scene, just like in the exciting tales! Oh." He licked his muzzle. “We should lay down some ground rules first. Number one. No fire. Number two...no hitting in the balls. Number three-"

“You and your rules can kiss my green stones!"

“What?" Revaramek scrunched his muzzle. “Is that what you want if you win? I think we'd better discuss that prize, because I'm not-"

Alvaranox sprang, launching himself into Revaramek before the smaller dragon even finished his sentence. The collision sent Revaramek tumbling back through the marsh. Alvaranox ended up atop him yet before he could continue his attack, Rev got his hind paws against Alv's belly. Rev shoved the other dragon off of him, then rolled to his paws and charged right into Alv, sending them both rolling through water and reed alike. They snarled and snapped at each other, lashing out with paws and tails.

“No claws!"

“No ball shots!"

“Rev, forget the rules!" Mirelle ran after them, sprinting down the boardwalk. “Kick that oversized green salamander right in the balls! He's not used to it in his story, it'll be an instant win!"

“Oh no!" Nylah ran after her, shouting at her own dragon. “Guard your balls, Alv, tuck your tail!" Then she shouted at Rev, too. “Listen here you runty little upstart! If your paw even goes near poor Alv's stones, I'm gonna grab yours and twist till you learn some respect for your elders!"

“Emphasis on elder!" Mirelle whirled back around, and slapped Nylah across the face.

Nylah stumbled back, her eyes flashing. “Ooh! That's it, you backwater prude, you're in for it now!" Nylah lashed out and punched Mirelle square on the jaw.

Mirelle cried out and wobbled a few paces, cringing and rubbing her jaw. “You hit pretty good for an old gran!" Then she stepped forward and rocketed her own fist right back into Nylah's jaw. “That's for my dragon!"

Nylah staggered back, then snarled and tackled the younger woman. They rolled off the boardwalk and onto soggy earth, throwing punches and elbows. Behind them, the two dragons were doing the same, grappling and biting and beating each other senseless, rolling towards the wasteland. Tails lashed, and teeth snapped, and soon their brawl was stirring up dusty red earth instead of mud.

Kirra grabbed at Nylah's arms, pulling her and Mirelle apart. “Stop fighting! It's Christmas! We should be focusing on getting to The Coyote's party!"

Nylah and Mirelle both wiped at bloodied noses and lips, panting. They glared at each other for a long moment before Mirelle relented. “Maybe she's right."

Nylah spat, twisting away from Kirra's grasp. “Perhaps so. I can always finish kicking your ass later, after Christmas is over."

Mirelle smirked. “Welcome to try. You fight pretty good for an old gran."

“Not too bad yourself, for a councilwoman."

“Ran a bar my whole life. Gotta take care of myself."

Nylah rubbed her jaw, wincing. “Sounds right."

Kirra shot them both a look, red hair swishing around her face. “Now that you two are done acting like bratty children on the playground, does anyone else find it strange that Alv's wasteland suddenly borders Revaramek's marsh? Or that we ended up together?"

“It's a little odd, yes." Nylah smoothed out her flower print dress best she could. Mud stained it just about everywhere. “Our dragons are practically diametrically opposed. Rev's as cheerful as Alv is…"

When she trailed off, Mirelle spoke up, quirking a brow. “Mopey?"

“I was going to say somber." She glared at Mirelle, then pursed her lips. “And look at us! Together five minutes and at each other's throats, just like them. In a party it'd be different, but isolated…" She gestured towards Revaramek and Alvaranox, now busy trying to pin each other.

Alvaranox was bigger and stronger than Revaramek, but the smaller dragon was quicker. Each time Alvaranox nearly pinned him, Revaramek managed to wriggle free, or twist Alv's paw until he was forced to let up. Yet each time Revaramek tried to get Alv pinned beneath him, the bigger dragon threw him off and it started all over again. And while Alvaranox was snarling and growling and clearly furious, Revaramek was laughing each time he pulled off another escape. He shoved Alv's head down into the broken earth, standing over him to try and use his weight to hold down the bigger dragon.

“Wheeee! This is so much fun!"

“Get offa me!" Alvaranox threw his weight up against Revaramek's belly, knocking him off balance. He toppled over and Alv tried to pin him down against the earth while Rev wriggled and laughed. “Quit wrigglin' around, you Jackass!"

Kirra put her hand on Mirelle's arm. “You're dragon's a little touched, isn't he."

Mirelle smirked. “Something like that."

Nylah folded her arms as Revaramek squirmed free once more, and managed to topple Alvaranox over. “It…kind of looks like they're trying to mate."

Kirra giggled, blushing just a little. “It really does. Poor Alv."

“Yes, as long as it's been for him, I'd not be surprised if he'd be receptive to such an advance from another male."

“Maybe they should just…you know…" Kirra's flush grew even as her smirk did the same. “Help each other out."

“Excuse me?!" Mirelle gaped at her.

Nylah laughed, nudging Kirra. “Oh, we're making the prude uncomfortable."

“I am not a prude! I mean…it's just…how would they…no, nevermind!" Mirelle turned away, clearing her throat with a very loud growl. “We need to get them to stop fighting!"

“No…" Nylah shook her head, her frizzy gray hair swishing. “Let's just…let them get it out of their system." Nylah turned and put her hand on Kirra's shoulder. “You stay here and make sure they don't injure each other for real. Mirelle…" She gestured towards the boardwalk. “Let's see if we can find the way to The Coyote's world while the boys show off for Kirra."

****

11.

“Whahahaha!" Lord Asterbury spun in The Coyote's desk chair. “Look at them fight! I know those two would have it in for each other! A shame Kirra broke up the cat fight, though. Should have left that spoilsport at home. Now…where's Amaleen gotten off to?"

He spun his chair back towards the monitor, scanning the story. He smiled, perking a single, oversized gray furred ear. “Oooh, interesting! And The Coyote? Hmm…perfect!"

He thumped his hand against the desk, then crammed an immense lump of mint fudge into his muzzle. He stood up, stretched, and left the room, peering over the railing. The singularity had now consumed half the ground floor of The Coyote's house. Snow spun around like it like a white whirlwind. Candy canes and Christmas lights danced on its edges, reflecting their festive colors in the polished black mirror sheen of floating story shards. Characters and tales long forgotten by The Coyote, long left to rot in limbo.

Asterbury leapt over the railing. When he landed, he snatched one of the black shards, gazing into its frozen depths. “Oooh, I wonder whose side he'd be on? Only one way to find out!"

The urd'thin skipped out the front door and into the blizzard. He cocked his arm back, and hurled the shard of old story as far as he could, watching it sail away into the snow. Then, remembering what part of the story he himself was at, he danced his way through the snowy yard, waving his hands and conducting a nonexistent symphony playing twisted Christmas music. Strains of trumpets, bells, strings and old chain-smoking crooners filled his ears. He reached the edge of the street, conducting the broken orchestra until wingbeats overwhelmed the noise.

“And three, two, one…"

Asterbury clapped twice, and Aylaryl dropped out of the snow and onto the street. She shook herself with a snarl, clapped her wings against the air, and then folded them tightly against her body. Then she shook her paws, stomped them against the snow, and shook them again. Aylaryl curled her long purple neck to fix her silver-white glare on the urd'thin.

“Did you have to make it so damn cold?"

Asterbury smiled at her, tilting his head. “Freezing your balls off, are you?"

Aylaryl smirked. “I haven't got those."

“No, I suppose not." Asterbury rubbed his muzzle in thought.

“Don't even think about it."

“Never!" Asterbury pointed at her, tracing a few lines through the air. Red leather straps lined with golden bells materialized around each of her limbs, and another around her neck. One more came into existence around her tail, with just two fat golden bells hanging under it, beneath her tail base. “There, now you're festive and you've got balls! Hahahaha!"

“Not funny." Aylaryl shook herself, filling the air with a merry jingling. “Alright, that's not bad. Speaking of balls, when do I get to hurt Revaramek?"

Asterbury clucked his tongue, shaking his head. “Mustn't hold grudges. It's terribly unhealthy for your mental and emotional well-being!" He smiled, striding back towards the house, snow crunching under his boots. “That said, if he does find his way here, and his boys end up in your paw, well…Oh, speaking of!" He stopped and clapped his hands, his ears perked around his santa hat. “I've got you a present!"

“You did?" Alyaryl perked her ears, her tone brightening in an instant. “Aww, you didn't have to do that, boss."

“Of course I didn't!" Asterbury waved his hand, and the front door flew open, even as Aylaryl grew small enough to fit inside. As she moved through the doorway, the house grew around her, more fitting for a dragon. “But you're such a good minion I just had to get you something special." He walked into the living room, then threw his hands in the air towards her present. “Ta-dah!"

Hanging from the ceiling in binds of silver tinsel was a wriggling black gryphon. Lines of silver decoration ran under his belly and chest. Twinkling Christmas lights encircled the gryphon's wrists and ankles, holding all four limbs spread apart. A fat red bow bound his beak shut. Green and red ribbons were woven into the feathers along his neck and wings, and silver bells hung from each paw, as well as his tail.

Aylaryl gasped when she saw him, a wicked grin spreading over her muzzle. “Is that who I think it is?"

Asterbury swept a hand across the gryphon as if showing off a prize. “May I present to you The Black Bird! Krek, the wings of Illandra, Spymaster to a Queen and trusted confident to The Coyote himself." He jumped up and slapped at Krek's hind paw. The gryphon twitched and squirmed, his bells jingling. “Merry Christmas, Aylaryl. He's all yours."

The purple dragon rumbled a purr. She reached up to stroke the fur on Krek's haunch, then slipped her hand beneath him to grasp his balls. Krek gave a muffled groan, twisting against the tinsel and lights that held him helpless to her every whim. When she squeezed, the gryphon groaned and thrashed harder, bells jingling, lights twinkling.

“And how long do I have with him?"

Asterbury pulled Vatch's phone out of his pocket. He scanned through the story on the mobile app, then smirked. “I'd say you'd got at least a good few hours before The Coyote gets here. So go ahead." Asterbury stretched an arm up over his head to dance his fingers along the gryphon's ebon-furred sheath. “Wear Licorice Muffin out."

****

12.

“Are we there yet?"

“Not now, Ayly."

“Are we there yet?"

“Ayly, not now."

“Are we there yet?"

“Ayly!" The Coyote pinned his ears back. “Please. Not right now."

“Okay." Ayly bounced a little in her car seat. “Coyote!"

“No, Ayly, we're not there yet."

Ayly giggled. “Are we there yet?"

Valyrym snorted, grinning at The Coyote. “She's your character."

“She's your granddaughter."

“Yes, and we'd best have a chat with Valar about her atrocious behavior." Valyrym mimed picking up a phone and tapping at the screen. “I'll just call him on my phone. Hello, Valar? We need to talk about how you're raising your daughter. Oh, but unfortunately we can't, because only Vatch gets to have a phone so I can't actually make this call!"

“Are you still on about the stupid phone?" The Coyote growled a sigh.

“Yes!" Valyrym mimed slamming down the phone. “It's not fair! I want a phone!"

“You know, you can't actually slam that kind of phone. You'll break it." The Coyote gave the dragon a sly grin. “And why are you pretending to slam a nonexistent phone, anyway?"

“Why are you pretending people are going to read this story?"

The Coyote snorted. “You…may have a point. But speaking of phones, gimme a minute."

“Oh, no hurry." Valyrym leaned his head against the car window, one horn scratching at the glass. “Take all the time you need! Why not obsessively check your twitter feed again? It's not like the entire universe is crumbling around us. Oh, my mistake." He thumped his spined tail. “It is!"

The Coyote ignored him as he eased the car to a stop on the snowy road. He pulled out his phone, glancing at the dragon. “I'm just checking something."

“No one has liked your most recent tweet." Valyrym smirked. “Because your tweet was bad, and you should feel bad."

“Now there's a reference I can appreciate."

“What reference?"

The Coyote splayed his ears. “Never mind. Now shut up a second."

“Yeah Grandfather." Ayly thumped her little purple-tipped tail against her car seat. “Shut up! Coyote's busy!"

Valyrym grumbled under his breath, shifting against the seat. “Females. Bossy at any age."

“I'm telling Alia you said that." The Coyote tapped his phone, and the screen flickered to life.

“She'll agree with you."

“Shit. It's the New Year already. January 1st…202?!." He pinned his ears, growling. “Wonderful. We just keep going through different time zones. The last time I checked it was 2005!" He pulled up Maps, and tried to figure out where they were. “At least we're getting close. We should be there soon, if we-"

“Is it starting to rain?"

“Hrrrnn?" The Coyote put his phone away, then rolled down the window. He stuck his hand out. Warm rain pelted his paw pads. He pulled his hand back into the jeep, and rolled the window back up. “I don't like this. Everyone keep their eyes peeled."

“What?" Valyrym cocked his head, his spines flattened back. “What manner of horrific torture is that?"

“It's…never mind. Just look for anything weird."

“You just told me we'd skipped about a dozen years into the future, after earlier telling me we'd lost ten. Weirder than that?"

“Yes." The Coyote bared his fangs, easing the car forward into the increasingly wet, slushy snow. “Weirder than that."

“Alright, then." Valyrym made a show of gazing around the vehicle. “You're a talking coyote in a stolen jeep with a grumpy dragon and a hatchling in a car seat. That weird enough for you?"

“Grandfather's weird!" Ayly giggled and chirped.

“That's moving in the right direction, anyway." The Coyote laughed, turning the windshield wipers to a higher setting. “Just keep looking, alright?"

As The Coyote drove on, the rain poured heavier and the air grew warmer. Soon, all the snow had melted away, leaving not the dried, dead winter grass and barren trees The Coyote expected, but a massive, verdant swamp. The road became increasingly broken, filled with muddy ruts and pot holes. Dark water stretched all around them. Old buildings only half standing dotted the landscape. Towering trees of unidentifiable species loomed over everything. Moss hung from some of them. Vines grew from the water and crept across the broken buildings. Lily pads with bright white flowers speckled the water.

“Hey Coyote." Valyrym stared out the window, his golden eyes reflected in the glass.

“You don't have to say it."

Valyrym's smirk was evident in his voice. “I'm not sure but I think I spotted something weird."

“Thanks for the help, buddy."

The Coyote drove slower as the road grew muddier and slipperier. Soon the asphalt only lay in shattered chunks half submerged in slick earth. The Coyote stopped the jeep, dropped it from standard four wheel drive into low range, and then eased forward again. Lightning streaked the sky, and booming thunder rattled the vehicle's windows. The Coyote jumped, his ears pinned back. Ayly shrieked and clapped her paws over her ears.

“Make it a happy story, Coyote!"

“I will as soon as I can, Ayly."

“Make it haaaapppyyyyy!"

“Soon, Ayly." Another bolt of lightning ripped through the swirling gray clouds, and again the thunder made the Coyote jump. “Hopefully real soon."

Valyrym rubbed his forepaws together, hissing. “Yes, a fine, festive holiday theme you've crafted in this year's story."

“I told you, it wasn't-"

“Yes, yes. If you ever catch this little Asterbury rodent, I suggest you lock him in a box and never left him out before he infiltrates anyone else's stories."

“Not the worst idea I've ever heard." The Coyote licked his nose, glancing at the dragon. “We should talk about what we're going to do when we get there. I need to get to my computer. That's going to be the only way to set things right. But I'm sure he's got something in mind to try and stop me. So, you're going to have to deal with Aylaryl, and-"

“I see something weird!"

“Valyrym, this is important." The Coyote drummed his fingers against the wheel. “I don't have time for you to tell me it's raining or that coyotes smell funny, or that you've spotted a tasty looking dumpster for me-"

“Besides your smell and dinner plans, I see something weird! I think it's a person!" Valyrym unsheathed a claw and tapped the windshield, pointing. “Look!"

The Coyote slowed the jeep, gazing out into the dark, rainy swamp. In the distance, flashes of green and blue peeked out behind a line of trees. Someone running with a green cloak, a blue dress, black, curly hair, olive skin. The Coyote sucked in a breath.

“I think it's Amaleen!"

“What?" Valyrym threw the door open and jumped out. “Amaleeeeeen!"

“Damn it, Val!" He leaned over and called out to the dragon before shutting the door. “Go get her!"

“Is it Argleblarp?" Ayly bounced in her car seat.

“I think so." The Coyote glanced back, furrowing his brow. “Where did you even hear that?"

“From Father!"

“Figures." The Coyote sped up, accelerating slowly to try and avoid skidding on all the mud. “You still buckled in, Ayly?"

“Yup yup!" Ayla wriggled in her seat as the jeep's back end squirreled a little. “Wheee, stolen car ride!"

As the Coyote drove, he kept an eye on Valyrym. The old black dragon sprinted the swamp as fast as The Coyote had ever seen him move. He threw up fishtails of water off his paws as he hurtled towards Amaleen. The sight made him smile. All these years, and Valyrym still had a place in his heart for his first true love. At least long after she was gone, he'd found true love again with Alia. And once a year, at Christmas time, The Coyote was always glad to be able to reunite them all in the spirit of-

“Oooh, a big dragon!"

The Coyote jerked his head around to see what Ayly was looking at. Further beyond Amaleen, a black dragon with gold-edged frills and green markings all down his back was charging through the swamp. The Coyote gasped, his ears up and eyes wide. He slammed his foot on the gas and the jeep accelerated over the muddy road, bumping over broken cobblestone.

In the distance, Valyrym reached Amaleen, and dropped himself down onto his belly. She scrabbled up onto his back, then clung to his neck when the old dragon jumped back to his feet. Valyrym pivoted and immediately broke into a full sprint for the jeep. He careered through the wetlands, leaping between patches of solid earth. His paws skidded and slipped, as the bigger dragon beyond slowly gained on him.

The Coyote threw the door open as Valyrym neared them. “Get in! Get in, get in, get in!"

Amaleen jumped off the dragon's back before he'd even come to a stop. She ran forward and yanked the back door open, then hopped in alongside Ayly. Valyrym jumped into the front seat again, glancing at the window. The enraged swamp dragon was still in full charge, galloping towards them. He roared, and the windows rattled as The Coyote slammed his foot down. The wheels spun and the jeep slid back and forth a few times.

“Go! Go! GOGOGO!" Valyrym whined, his paw on the door handle.

“I'm trying! There's no damn traction!" He glanced over. “Stay in the car, you're no match for Varcorak right now!"

Amaleen leaned forward, her clothes soaked, her voice taut. “Can we please go?"

The wheels caught, and the jeep shot forward, throwing her back into her seat. The Coyote glanced back. “Seat belts!"

“Hi Argleblarp!" Ayly bounced in her seat, giggling.

“Hello, Dear, it's nice to see-AAAAAHH!"

Amaleen screamed as Varcorak threw himself at the car. His claws caught the back end, and the jeep spun, pinning everyone against their seats. The bumper tore from it with a grating, metallic shriek. The Coyote turned into the spin best he could, and when the wheels had purchase, the jeep lurched forward again. He steered for a patch of drier land, and floored it. The jeep shot forward.

“Hell of a Christmas story this year!" Amaleen snapped her seat belt into place.

“We'll talk about that later, Amaleen, now reach into my pocket!"

“Not really the time for that sort of game, Coyote." She leaned over to hug Ayly and pet her scales. “It's alright, Ayly, you don't need to be scared. We'll be-"

“I'm not scared, this is fun!" She threw her forepaws in the air. “Wheeeeee!"

“Amaleen, just reach into my damn pocket and get my phone!" The Coyote glanced into the rearview mirror just in time to see Varcorak pick up the bumper and hurl it at them. “AH! Hold on!"

The bumper slammed into the top of the jeep, denting the roof with a deafening thud. It skidded forward, slipped down the windshield and off the front of the car. They rolled over it, jostling everyone in their seats as it scraped the bottom of the car. The Coyote accelerated again, glancing back at his soaked passenger.

“Amaleen! Phone! Now!"

This time Amaleen didn't hesitate. She undid her seat belt and leaned forward, sliding her hand into The Coyote's pockets. “My apologies if I find anything I shouldn't."

Valyrym snorted. “It'd have to be a lot bigger for him to worry about that."

Amaleen pulled the phone free, staring at it with a blank look. “Now what?"

“Haven't we told you how to use those yet?"

“Well…sort of. Is it turned off, or…?"

“Tap it!"

Amaleen tapped the phone once. “Nothing."

A furious roar sounded behind them, rattling the windows again. The Coyote glanced in the rearview mirror. Varcorak was charging after them across the old broken road. “Tap it twice! Twice!"

Amaleen tapped it twice, then smiled. “Oh, it came alive! Hey, who's that blue dragon and red headed girl?"

“Galvarys and Elyra!"

Valyrym growled. “Oh, so they're your lockscreen? I see we know who your secret favorites really are!"

“Just swipe the screen, Amaleen! Now! NOW!"

Varcorak lunged at the car, lashing out with a forepaw. He caught the back end of the jeep, just above a wheel, and once more sent them spinning in a spiral down the road. Amaleen screamed, Valyrym cried out, The Coyote grit his teeth, and Ayly threw her paws up.

“WHEEEEEEEE!"

“Hello, Scavenger!" Varcorak prowled around the car after it came to a stop. His tail spines scraped across the windshield, scratching it. “Won't ever invite me to your little party, hmm?" He circled the car again, smirking. “Well then, let's see what happens when I invite you into my swamp!"

The Coyote threw the car into reverse and drove backwards over Varcorak's tail. Varcorak threw his head back, howling in pain, and The Coyote slammed the car back into gear and mashed his foot down against the accelerator. The car rocketed forward. The Coyote willed the ground into being dry, even, straight. Some of the wetness faded, the rain relented a little, but the story pushed back, fighting his imagination.

“Oooh, that was nice, Coyote!" Valyrym snarled his approval.

“Hope I didn't break anything." The Coyote gulped, glancing in the rearview. Varcorak was busy inspecting his tail, but his head soon shot up, glaring at the retreating jeep. “Amaleen, do exactly as I say. Swipe the-“

“It's gone off again." She held the phone up to show the black screen.

The Coyote grit his teeth. “This is like trying to someone's grandmother how to use a phone. Tap it twice! Then swipe it!"

“Do what now?"

“Rub the screen!"

“Alright, alright. There." Amaleen smiled. “I did it!"

“Wonderful!" Exasperation stretched The Coyote's voice. In the mirror, Varcorak was charging after them again. “Now go to SF, that site I showed you! Use Chrome! Just like I showed you on the computer last visit!"

“How do I click it?"

“You tap it!"

“Oh, well isn't that convenient. Let's see. S…o….f…"

“Please type faster!"

“Alright, I'm there. Now what?"

“Go to my profile! I should be signed in! Find a story that was posted on December 24th, 2015!"

“What are you doing, Coyote?" Valyrym cocked his head.

“If time's slipped us into the future, then the story's already posted! We can edit it!"

“That's brilliant! Why don't we just-"

“It says, low battery." Amaleen scowled at the phone.

The Coyote glanced in the mirror. Varcorak was just behind them and preparing to strike again. “Hold on!"

The Coyote slammed on the brakes. The jeep skidded to a halt just in time for Varcorak to smash into the back end of it. The whole jeep jerked forward, knocking everyone around in their seats. The rear windshield shattered, blowing safety glass and rain all over everyone. Varcorak cried out and crumpled to the ground, groaning.

“Oooooh…my neck…"

“Sorry, buddy! I'll make it up to you, I swear!" The Coyote floored it, and the jeep shot away from the stunned dragon. “Now Amaleen. Bring up the story!"

“But the battery-"

“Then work fast! Find this story!"

“Alright, I found it." She scrunched her nose, clucking her tongue. “It doesn't look like it was very popular. Oh, should I fave it for you? Oh, but you can't fave things on your own account."

“Amaleen, focus! Hit the edit button! Scroll three quarters or so of the way down, and find this chase scene!"

“Why don't we drive somewhere else, Coyote?" Valyrym tilted his head. “It's like we're running in a straight line when we should be swerving."

The Coyote grit his teeth. “In case you haven't noticed, Varcorak's swamp only has one road in it! Everywhere else is water and mud, the jeep would get flooded or bogged down in an instant!"

“Okay, I found it. Now what?"

“Now type in the sentence, Varcorak lost track of everyone and gave up!"

“Oooh, I like that. Let's see…V…a…r….k…u…No, that doesn't sound right." Amaleen glanced up. “How do you spell Varcorak?"

The Coyote wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel. “It doesn't matter! Just type it!"

“Alright, alright. I hate typing on these phones."

Varkurek lost trak of every1 an gqve up

“Alright, done. I hate typing on these phones."

The Coyote glanced in the mirror again. Varcorak was back on his feet, holding his head in a paw. He shook it, and then looked around. After a few moments of searching, he turned and trudged back into the swamp. The Coyote took a deep breath, and let it out in a long, slow sigh.

“Thank God for that."

Amaleen set the phone on the seat and folded her arms. “Well, at least that's over. Some happy story this year." She glared at The Coyote. “I oughta to knee you in the plums later for dragging me into this nonsense."

The Coyote smirked. “Merry Christmas to you too, Amaleen."

“Merry Christmas, Coyote."

****

13.

“Look, Mirelle! A real limbo!" Revaramek bound ahead of the group, his brassy voice filled with glee. “It's just like one of the cautionary tales! Oooh, it's all white and empty, this is so exciting!"

Alvaranox growled, pinning his spines back. He glanced down at Mirelle. “Seriously, though. What's wrong with him?"

Mirelle pursed her lips. “I don't know, exactly."

“Has he had a break from reality?" Alvaranox swished his tail, watching the smaller green dragon skid across the blank whiteness that awaited them, like endless snow and ice. “He's excited about…everything!"

“He…mostly knows about life from stories." Mirelle scratched her head, curly black hair rustling.

“He acts like a child." Alvaranox snorted, flaring his spines. “Is that what he is? Is he really just a child, making things up as he goes?"

“I don't know." Mirelle shook her head. “I don't think so. I think he's just had a hard, lonely life."

“Join the club." Alvaranox swatted his paw against a lump of black stone. It bounced and skittered across the dry, red earth they'd been trekking across for the better part of an hour. “I mean it, though. What's his deal? Is he really a hatchling? Is he telling himself the story? Are you all stuck in a story? Or did that poison swamp just give him some kinda brain parasite that's driven him crazy?"

Mirelle grit her teeth. “Again, I don't know. We haven't exactly gotten that far in the story, yet."

“Oh, not yet?" Alvaranox laughed, lowering his head to nose at Kirra. “Listen to her, Kirra. She thinks The Coyote's going to finish her story!"

Kirra giggled, rubbing at the golden spot on the big green dragon's nose. “Poor, deluded new characters."

Mirelle stomped a foot. “I am not deluded! I'll have you know he's been cranking out our tale at nearly record pace."

Alvaranox arched his neck, smirking. “I remember those days. A young character, the new dragon on the scene, taking up all The Coyote's time. My story spinning in his head day and night." Then he snarled and snapped his jaws, flaring his black mottled wings. “But those days pass! Then you're forgotten, for years at a time. If you're lucky, he picks up with your story some years later."

“Or he promises to pick up with your story." Nylah adjusted her muddy dress, glaring at Mirelle. “And then decides on a whim to start yet another new tale, instead."

“It's an endless cycle, at best." The dragon tossed his head.

“At least we get invited to his Christmas parties!" Kirra stepped between them, smiling.

Mirelle scowled at Alvaranox. “At best? So…what happens at worst? We all…stop…existing?"

“Hah!" Alvaranox snarled, flaring his wings. “If only it were so easy." He tugged at his collar with a forepaw. Dragons were carved across it, bathing the earth in flame. “This thing sends me on better trips than that!"

“Than…than what?"

Alvaranox smirked at her, then pointed with a wing-tip talon to the distance, where Revaramek was pacing back and forth in a nearly infinite white expanse, sniffing at it. “I think your crazy, child-like friend has discovered it."

Revaramek lifted his head, glancing back at her. “Mirelle! Limbo smells funny! Come here and smell it!"

Mirelle called back to him. “I'm not smelling limbo!"

“It smells like…almonds and snow and sugar!"

“That's…not what I expected, actually." Mirelle wrung her hands, glancing back at the larger green dragon. “So if our stories go unfinished for too long…"

“Limbo."

“Well, that sounds horrid."

“And you wonder why we were made at you for stealing our spotlight!" Alvaranox lashed his tail. The spines tore out broken chunks of dry, red earth. “November was supposed to be the month he focused on us again! Finally, he'd finished the tenth Dragon in the Dungeon, after two years of waiting, and now it was our turn! Now we'd been the ones waiting two years! But no!" He stomped his paw, hissing. “Along comes Revaramek and suddenly The Coyote wants to do a comedy for NaNoWri-What-the-shit! And then the comedy takes a dramatic turn, and the feelings start, and the existential mystery kicks in, and now who knows when you're ever going to be done!"

Nylah folded her arms, grumbling. “My coin's on never. Like the rest of us."

“Well that's not very inspiring."

“Exactly!" Alvaranox smirked.

“So how many stories has he finished?"

“You mean, installments in a grander saga, or…all the way through?"

“All the way through." Mirelle swallowed, tugging at her sleeve.

“Do short stories count? Cause he's finished a bunch of those."

Mirelle waved her hand. “No, just novels and such."

“One." Nylah held up a single finger. “And even that one, only a few people have ever seen. Never seen any editing, or anything. So, in a way, even that one's in its own special sort of limbo. Mind you, I believe…" Nylah trailed off, then pointed in the distance. “Speaking of characters in limbo, your friend has company."

“Look, Mirelle! Old characters!" Revaramek bounced on his paws. “I'm going to go say hello!"

“No! Revaramek, we don't know what kind of characters they are!" Mirelle glanced at the others, sighing. “Sorry about him. Umm…we better catch up before he gets us into a fight with villains or…hell, you two fought and you're both heroes!"

Alvaranox flared his spines, and bared his fangs. “Better I fight another hero than a villain. Some of his old villains have powers."

“You mean like Asterbury?" Mirelle broke into a run along with the others as Alv galloped ahead.

Alvaranox called back to her. “More destructive, less random!"

Mirelle sprinted across the last of the wastes. Just like Revaramek's marsh had abutted Alvaranox's desolate wasteland in a clear, demarcated line, so too did the wastes abut limbo. There was no gradual change, no slow fade into nothingness. One step her boots kicked up red dust, and the next she was striding upon pure, white, emptiness. She felt nothing beneath her, no firmness below her boots. And yet she did not fall. She took a few cautious steps, and though surrounded by a snow-colored void, she had no trouble moving as usual.

“Hello!" Revaramek called out. When there was no echo, he made his own, his voice softer with each repetition. “Hello…hello…hello…"

“Hello!" From the distance, an unfamiliar voice called back. A dragon's voice, a bit brassy like Revaramek's, but not as deep or developed.

A black dragon smaller than Revaramek bound across the white expanse. He was clearly not yet full grown, with limbs too long for his body, and no spines that tipped his tail. He had horns, but little in the way of frills the way Revaramek had them. His eyes held no metallic shine, but rather they were the red color of fresh blood. He skidded to a stop as he neared Revaramek, smiling.

“Um…hi there."

“Hello!" Revaramek bounced on his paws, beaming. “I'm Revaramek the Resplendent, your benevolent overlord!"

The younger black dragon tilted his head. “Erm…I don't think I have an overlord." He glanced back towards a sleek, female wolf biped with black fur fading to gray across her belly. She wore a leather loincloth, and halter across her chest, with curved knives tucked into her belt. “Tatchta, do we have an overlord?"

“No, Sky Demon." The wolf called Tatchta punched the young dragon on the shoulder. “No overlord!"

“Hello, Wolf-person!" Revaramek beamed at her, offering the exact same introduction. “I'm Revaramek the Resplendent, your benevolent overlord."

Tatchta shook her finger at him. “No! You not overlord!"

“Am too." Revaramek lowered his head, sniffing at Tatchta's fur. “You smell funny."

Tatchta slapped his nose, and Revaramek yanked his head back with a yelp. “Stop that! What wrong with you?"

Revaramek rubbed his nose, whining. “Why does everyone I meet keep asking me that?"

Alvaranox careened to a halt in front of the newcomers. “Can I ask you two an odd question? How'd you get here? I mean, right here, in this exact spot. Today."

Revaramek spoke up before either of them could reply. “So what's your name, youngling? And where are your tail spines? And your frills?"

The young black dragon curled his tail, peering at it. “I don't have tail spines."

Revaramek cocked his head. “But you're male. Aren't you?" He dropped his head to peer under the black dragon's belly.

“Quit peekin' at me, ya perv!" The black dragon laughed, nodding. “Yeah, I'm male."

“Hah!" Tatchta pointed at Revaramek, laughing. “Addle-brain green one think Solivaar sexy."

Nylah, Mirelle, and Kirra arrived next, with Nylah walking around the young black dragon, looking him over. “Must be an earlier design. What story are you from?"

“Errm…" Solivaar lifted a hind leg to scratch at his side. “I think it was called The Withering. Or The Withered? Something like that."

“It doesn't matter what it was called!" Alvaranox stomped his paw. “We have more important…wait, isn't that the one with the villain with crazy powers?"

Solivaar cringed, glancing away, his muzzle scrunched. “Arala. Don't remind me. They say she can see everything, that she hears voices."

Mirelle punched a fist into her hand, glancing at the others. “Sounds right up Asterbury's alley."

Solivaar gulped and glanced over his wings. “She's not here, is she? She scares me. I mean, I saw some other characters headed this way too, but not her."

Revaramek dropped onto his haunches, rubbing his forepaws together. “Oooh, I like the sound of this story! Does anyone else in it have powers?"

The black dragon nodded, pawing at the white void. “Yeah, actually, it has a lot of magic. See, in our story, dragons have magic, and, us black dragons are sort of a sub breed, and our magic is a little harder to control, and-"

“And who the hell cares!" Alvaranox snapped his jaws for everyone's attention. “Unless you and your magic can get us the hell out of here, your whole damn story can kiss my green stones!"

Solivaar hung his hung head. “You're not very nice."

“I've too much experience with being trapped in unwanted situations to listen to you babble while we should be focused on finding a way home. Or to The Coyote's party, where he'd better have a damn good explanation for all this mix-up nonsense."

“Maybe we're all dead already." Revaramek sounded far too excited by that possibility. “And this is just our shared afterlife, only we don't know it! Mirelle, have you ever heard a tale like that?"

“Will you all just shut the hell up!" Alvaranox tipped his head back, and gave a roar to silence the group. “I'll ask you again. How did you get to be here?"

“Well, we followed the signs."

“Signs? What signs?"

In the distance, there came an answering roar. Alvaranox swung his head around, and the group spread out, turning towards the sound. A young female blue dragon strode towards them, determination in her gait, her tail lashing behind her. Alongside her walked an older human man in an official-looking blue robe, trimmed with silver and gold. The man had only a single arm, with one sleeve of the robe tied off shortly below the shoulder. In his hand he held an odd implement, halfway between steel rod, and thin silver sword.

“Is that who I think it is?" Alvaranox glanced at Nylah, who gave him a concerned look and a nod. “Alright. Uh…everyone stay behind me." He flared his wings out and took a few steps ahead of everyone. “Let's just…stay calm. I'm sure he's only here to…well, there's more of us than there are of him, so…Rev, what the hell are you doing?"

“He looks like a villain!" Revaramek bound off into the distance, cackling. “I'm gonna play hero again!"

“Rev!" Mirelle screamed, stomping her boot. “This isn't a damn game!"

As Revaramek ran towards the two new newcomers, the blue dragon glanced at the robed man. He looked up at her, flicked his weapon towards the green dragon, and gave a single nod. The blue female burst into a gallop, sprinting away from the man and straight towards Revaramek. She lowered her head, snarling, her speed increasing with every step. She tucked her wings against her body, tail undulating behind her.

“Oooh, I think she wants to play-AARRGGCCKK!"

Revaramek gave a strangled cry as the female dragon launched herself through the air and straight into his chest. The impact lifted the green dragon's front paws off the ground and knocked the air from his lungs. The female's momentum kept her moving forward even after impact, pushing hard enough against Revaramek to topple him over. He tumbled across the ground, with the female tumbling with him.

As they rolled, she snatched a foreleg in her teeth, guiding his roll. She grabbed his throat in her paw, claws unsheathed against his scales. The female dragon ended up atop him, and rose to her feet, still gripping his throat. She dropped her hind paw down hard between Revaramek's back legs. He gave another pained cough, eyes bugging out.

“Awwrrrh!" He groaned, squirming. “No fair! Get off!"

“Silence, foul beast!" The female snarled, digging her claws into his throat. “Offer your submission, and I shall spare your life!"

“Submission?" Revaramek squirmed again, coughing out a few words. “Mirelle, she's kinky!"

“Wh-what?!" The blue dragon jerked her head up, gasping. “That is not the manner of submission of which I speak! You will yield to me at once or I shall spill your wretched blood before you can cause more harm to the Giver's creations!"

“Fine, fine, I yield, whatever!" Revaramek snorted, glaring up at her. “Just get offa my damn balls!"

The female dragon did no such thing. Instead, she turned to glance to the robed man approaching her. “I've captured him, Lord Velga. He offers his submission."

“Excellent work, Sapphire." The man smiled at her, tucked his implement under his arm, and stroked the female's neck. “The Giver is pleased with your efforts, as always."

“Get offa him, you blue bitch!" Mirelle stomped towards the female dragon, her face flushed. “He was just coming to say hello! He wasn't attacking you, you stupid lizard!"

The female dragon gave her a confused look. “What do you babble about, woman? Dragons are foul creatures that offend the Giver. They must learn their proper place to serve him, and to serve this world."

“Oh, Mirelle!" Revaramek clutched at Sapphire's paw against his throat, wheezing. “I think…she's been…brainwashed! How exciting!"

Alvaranox stalked towards the female, his body low to the white expanse, protected and ready to spring. “Get off him. Now. Or I'm gonna knock you off him."

Sapphire canted her head, snarling. “I am prepared for your challenge, Male! I will fight and conquer all three of you wicked monstrosities if that is what it takes to bring you into the Giver's light! Unless you'd prefer to greet him directly via purification!"

The man in the robe swept around to put himself between Alvaranox and Sapphire, each movement graceful, precise. He pointed his thin metal weapon at Alvaranox's nose. “Hold your ground, beast, or I'll put you down myself."

Alvaranox hissed, baring his fangs. “Watch it, old man, or you'll lose the other arm!"

“AAAAAARRRGHH!" Kirra threw her head back and screamed. The sound silenced everyone, and when they all turned towards her she squeezed her fingers in the air as if she wanted to strangle each and every one of them. “Can we all just stop challenging each other for one damn minute? We're all characters of The Coyote, and we all just want to get out this stupid scrambled world! So we can stop playing good guys and bad guys and brainwashed bad guys who might become good guys and get the hell out of here?"

The robed man lowered his strange weapon. “The impetuous youth has a point, however mangled and garbled it may have been." He glanced back at Sapphire and Revaramek, then over at Alvaranox and Solivaar. “If I allow your companion to regain his footing, do I have your word you will not attempt to attack us again?"

“We weren't attempting to attack you in the first place!" Mirelle folded her arms, nodding. “But yes. You have our word. Right everyone?"

“Yup!" Solivaar plopped onto his haunches.

The women all nodded their agreement, as did the female wolf.

Alvaranox growled, narrowing his eyes at the blue female and her robed companion.

Mirelle started towards him, waggling her boot. “Keep causing trouble, big dragon, and I will kick you into next year's Christmas story."

“You do, and I'll hurl you into a lake."

“After you get back up." Nylah smirked at him.

Alvaranox growled, but finally relented, easing onto his haunches. “Fine, you have my word. At this rate there won't be a Christmas story next year, anyway."

“That's what I was talking about earlier!" Mirelle pivoted, giving everyone a glare. “This might be the first time Rev and I have been invited to this little soiree, but it doesn't a genius to tell something's gone wrong! We're not supposed to be crashing into each other's stories, and we're sure as hell not supposed to be…" She waved her hand at the white beyond. “In limbo!"

“Limbo?" The robed man gazed around. “Is that where we've been stuck all these years?" He glanced at the female dragon, gesturing with a tilt of his head. “You may let him up, Sapphire."

“Yes, Lord Velga." Sapphire stepped off of Revaramek and settled onto her haunches nearby, glaring at him. “You'd best behave yourself, you uncouth beast."

“Says the one stepping on my poor testicles!" Revaramek rubbed himself with a forepaw, groaning.

Sapphire grunted, looking away. “I'm certain they are fine. Stop playing with them."

Revaramek rolled to his paws, staring at the female. Unlike any other dragon he'd ever seen, plating covered her entire underbelly rather than just her chest. Pale blue scutes ran all the way down her throat, and across her all the way to her tail. Only her sex was-

“Stop staring at me you, you pervert!" She snapped her jaws, covering herself with her tail. “Or I'll do far more than step on you!"

“I was only staring because you look funny. I've never seen dragons with so much plating."

“She's an old design." Nylah gestured at Solivaar. “Even older than him. An ancestor, of sorts, I suppose."

“Who cares about the old granny over there, or whose ancestor she is!" Alvaranox snarled. “We need to get out of here. So how did you-"

“I am no one's ancestor!" Sapphire snarled. “I have not even mated yet!"

“There's a shock." Alvaranox snorted his head.

“Silence, male!" Sapphire arched her neck, looking down at the other dragons. “I have saved myself for a proper male who serves the giver! I am not about to…" She waved her paw. “Raise my tail for foul beasts interested only in their own pleasures, with no concern for the lives of others!"

Alvaranox opened and closed his paw a few times, miming speech. “Blah, blah, blah. Look, Blue. Your story's never gonna get finished, so if you ever wanna try mating, lemme know. Been a while for me, too, so having extra plating everywhere isn't gonna bother me."

“You foul thing!" Sapphire's nose flushed purple. “I should-"

“You should tell me how you got here!" Alvaranox pushed himself up to all fours again, growling. “So we can all get out of here."

Velga swung his weapon. It whooshed as it cut through the air. “We followed the signs."

“So did we!" Solivaar rose and walked to the blue female. He gave her a smile. “Hello. My name is..er…Solivaar. I've never mated either."

The female cocked her head, smirking. “Thank you for telling me."

“Oh..ah…right." He swallowed, pinning his ears back and glancing away.

Sapphire smiled and nosed at his head, sniffing at him. “At least you're honest. That is a good start."

Alvaranox reached out and yanked on Solivaar's tale. “There's no time for a generic budding romance subplot! This story is far longer than it should be already. So back to those signs."

“Oh…" Solivaar scratched around a horn, gave the female dragon a shy smile, and then turned back towards the two green males. “So, we just sort of…woke up. In this place." He gestured with his paw at the white infinity. “And then we found these…well, signs. Told us which way to go."

“Lord Velga and I also experienced this." Sapphire craned her neck, pointing with her muzzle towards the distance. “We followed signs such as that one."

Alvaranox cocked his head. “That wasn't there before."

Revaramek turned and bound towards it. “A mysterious sign! C'mon Mirelle, let's read it!"

Revaramek skidded to a stop as he neared the sign. It was wooden, affixed to a post that jutted up from the emptiness. Hand-painted letters spelled out a simple statement, along with an arrow pointing the way.

This way to…

Mirelle jogged up alongside Revaramek and read the sign aloud. As soon as she spoke the words, another sign materialized in the distance. She gave Revaramek a worried glance, rubbed his neck, and then followed him to the next sign, with rest of their motley group following behind them.

…The end of times…

Mirelle cringed when she read that one. Just as before, a new sign came into being, pieces of wood and hand-painted letters assembling themselves in the direction the arrow indicated. They walked to it, and Mirelle rubbed Rev's neck while they read the sign.

…Or a new beginning…

Each side lead to another, and one by one, The Coyote's characters old and new followed the strange signs, reading each aloud. Each time the words were spoken, another guide post, another message came into existence.

…Which will you choose?

Redemption?

Revenge?

Save the day, and be forgotten…

Or let it end, and be borne anew.

The choice is yours.

Enjoy the party! – Everyone's best friend, Asterbury.

Included upon the last sign, was the urd'thin equivalent of a smiley face. Large, perked ears, a big smile, little horns.

The last sign pointed not to another message, but to a shimmering, dragon-sized shard of black glass floating in the distance. Images from myriad worlds scrolled across it, frozen forever in time, stuck at the moment the story left off. As they all approached it, scenes still in motion took their place. The Coyote and his friends in a jeep, in a snow storm. A gray-furred urd'thin dancing around a crumbling house. A group of silhouetted characters in a white world, staring into a black abyss.

“Well, that's weird." Revaramek lowered his head, sniffing at the image. A green dragon in the image did the same. “Look Mirelle, I can see myself!"

“Looks like we found our way out." Mirelle put her hand upon the black glass. It was cold and smooth like ice.

“How the hell do we get through it?" Alvaranox reached and tapped a claw against it. “It's solid."

“It must be some kind of trick. Or puzzle." Velga pushed past the dragon, thumping his weapon against it. “A wicked illusion, perhaps."

“Hey, look!" Kirra pointed above the shard. A new sign materialized, hanging by a nail that seemed fixed in the white nothing. Words spilled across the sign, wet ink dripping in black blobs.

In case of existential crisis, break glass.

“Oooh, break glass!" Revaramek took a few steps back. “I can do that!"

“No, Rev!" Mirelle tried to grab at his horn before he pulled away. “Wait!"

Revaramek did no such thing. The dragon charged forward at full speed, lowering his horned head. He slammed the crown of his thick skull right into the center of the massive black object, shattering it into a thousand pieces. Rev plunged through the hole it left in an instant, vanishing into a swirling singularity of unknownable darkness.

The thousand shattered shards of a thousand more realities swirled around the group, each reflecting another story, another character, another idea that never came to pass. A great, rushing sound filled the air, and one by one all those ideas were sucked away into the growing void. Limbo's white expansive began to crumble into the black singularity. Just as swiftly, every character was hauled off their feet, pulled into the air, and dragged into the great, yawning chasm.

Limbo itself collapsed behind them.

And then there was nothing.

****

14.

Asterbury danced through the ruins of The Coyote's house, casting chaos like magic. He snatched shards of story from the air, hurled one into the singularity, smashed another into a third. Let them all exist together, or not at all. He jumped into a sofa, half-eroded away to wooden frame and cotton. He threw his hand out against a wall of The Coyote's home, and it blasted apart into bricks and mortar. They spiraled into the air, vanished into the ever-growing black star now hovering above what remained of The Coyote's world.

The bottom floor was mostly gone, and Asterbury hopped across a line of broken furniture, leaping from a chair seat to a couch cushion to a recliner, all floating above a churning ocean of dark nothingness. He jumped to the stair railing, tip-toeing up it. He waved his hands in time to the music he heard, sending more characters colliding into more worlds. Now he listened not to the music in his mind, but through headphones he'd stolen from The Coyote's collection.

He twirled in place a few times, waving his hands in a slow, off time motion as he crooned along. “Creep in before the rise of the sun!" He swept his hand up, and the snow blowing in through the torn roof changed directions, flying upwards and back out. “They are sleeping, holding…each…other!"

He slid back down the bannister, leaping off the end to the entryway. “Like it's the last!" He whirled around, and thrust both hands towards the back of the house. The entire back wall blew out and into the snow, broken wood vanishing into the swirling blizzard and the black infinitely. “And it is!"

Asterbury twisted around, and danced around the Christmas tree. He'd kept it intact. He liked Christmas trees. He pulled a strand of lights free, and twined it around his neck, and a single horn, decorating himself. Through the window, he waved to another of his surprise guests' awaiting The Coyote's inevitable arrival. An old black dragon. So many old characters who wanted to have words with him. Another, a human man with a tattooed head, sat in a recliner, stroking a sleeping green dragon hatchling. Asterbury ensured they remained in comfort even as he had his way with The Coyote's house. And soon…soon he'd cast The Coyote into the same limbo that mangy scavenger had left everyone else.

“Open the va-lve!" The urd'thin kept singing as he spun round the tree once more. “Fill the rooo-ooo-oom. They are sleeping, holding…each…oooother. Like it's the laaast! And it is! Open the valve! Fill the rooooom! Say…good..bye…" He pirouetted into the entryway and threw his hands up to the writhing black sky. “To everything!"

Headbanging now, Asterbury pushed his hands to what was left of door, blasting it off its hinges. It exploded out into the snow, skidded across the street and vanished into a drift. He danced down the sidewalk, then twirled around to gaze upon The Coyote's house. Broken walls struggled to stay standing against the pull of the singularity. Long strands of torn Christmas lights fluttered in the air like streamers of dying stars. Half the upstairs remained standing. The Coyote's bedroom was still intact, along with its precious Computer. After all, The Coyote had to have a goal, or he wouldn't show up. Through the window, purple scales rose and fell, and now and then black feathers flashed. Oooh, Aylaryl was having fun.

Asterbury gazed across the street. Darkness shifted beyond the snow in another house. Hints of pale blue eyes and ebony scales moved behind a window. The sound of rusted chains clanking penetrated the silence of falling snow. Asterbury called out to the other house.

“He'll be here soon! So choose your side, ya can't go wrong!"

Asterbury cackled, yanking off his santa hat to spin it around his gray furred hand. Then as the music rose towards a towering, furious crescendo, he scrunched the hat up in his hand. He took a deep, snarling breath, and threw back his head to roar along with the terrifying climax to the powerful, lunatic musical journey he beheld.

“Eyes open to the sound of laughter!" Asterbury roared like a dragon, his throat raw. “Like a mighty God casting his spells, on the world be-low! That man is me!"

He turned back towards the house, spittle flecking his gray-furred muzzle. “That man is me!" He threw his hands up to the sky, and the ground around The Coyote's house erupted. It rose, a mound of churning rock, transmuting the ruins of The Coyote's house to a grand, broken citadel, a fortress atop a snowy mount.

As the ground rose beneath it, Asterbury sang along with the song's thematic question, his voice loud and clear once more. “Aaaaaaam I meeeeee?! Aaaaam, I meeeee!?"

While the fortress continued to build itself out of the Coyote's house, Asterbury strolled up the trail that now lead to a front gate. Stairs built beneath his feet. As the song faded towards its final peaks and valleys, his voice softened, swishing his hands in the air as if conducting the band. “Jet propulsion disengage…dancing towards our future! A future of nothing! A future towards nothiiingg. Good! Bye! To! Everything! Dancing towards our future! A future of nothing…"

“That's you, Coyote. So come and meet your future! Just like all your forgotten characters! A future of nothing!" He danced through the front door, still humming to himself. “Dancing t'wards our future, a future of nothing…"

****

15.

“You listen to some weird music, Coyote." Valyrym cocked his head, swiveling his ears. “What is this song even about?"

The Coyote turned down the volume slightly on the jeep's sound system. “It's the climax of the whole album! Though, I's technically a story that's continued across multiple albums. And…well, it's really hard to explain. See, this bad guy thinks the only thing left he can do is to destroy the world to start things over again. But, first he's got to get back at Prospect One, because Prospect One is the only one who could theoretically stand up to him. They're sort of…" He waved his hand. “Mirror images of each other. And so, Prospect Two lost his wife in a fire…but his wife started it, because she thought he was dead when he was sent to sow life on earth, and…"

“What?" Amaleen leaned forward from the back seat, rubbing her temples. Cold air ruffled her dark hair, blowing in from around the edges of the floor mats they'd used to cover up the broken windshield. “That doesn't even…"

“Look, the story is kind of like Dark Souls. It's intentionally obtuse. And they've got like, eight albums out, two of which are all about this story, and several others have songs that are part of the story cycle. So…it's just about impossible to explain it all to someone who hasn't listened, let alone invested time in fan theories and understanding the hidden meanings and stuff."

“So give us the gist of it."

“The bad guy's being controlled by an alien organization, who has convinced him he has to let them end life on earth to start things over. He's basically lost his mind, blames the good guy for the death of his wife in a house fire, and since the good guy is the only one who could stop their plans, he's come to kill him while he's asleep. By burning down his house, as sort of…fucked up poetic justice. So…the good guy…opens his eyes, finds the bad guy laughing in his face and wielding his cosmic powers while his house is burning down and then…"

“And that's the ending?" Valyrym shivered, his scales clicking. “That's depressing."

“Well…it's a bit more open ended than it sounds." The Coyote chuckled, flicking his ears back. “The album is sort of cyclical, it ends with the same lyrics and music it begins with, just after Prospect One returns to his ship, turns off the life support and just…drifts away to nothingness. So, the hint is that…maybe the cycle could have been broken, if they'd done things differently instead of just…burying their heads in the sand. Or that maybe there's still time!"

“And this is the kind of music you listen to while you write?" Valyrym shuddered again, his tail thumping. “No wonder your stories turn out so crazy!"

The Coyote grinned. “Yeah, well, something like that." He glanced into the back seat. “Whatcha think Ayly? Like the music?"

“Uh huh!" Ayly giggled, and head-banged her little wedge shaped head hard enough to rock her car seat. “Make it louder!"

The Coyote laughed and turned the music back up a little bit more. “I'm glad I still have enough power left in this story to make CDs materialize. Otherwise we'd be stuck talking to each other this whole trip!"

“Are you sure you made it materialize?" Valyrym cocked his head again, licking his nose. “Wasn't that long ago you had to have the story edited just to get Varcorak to stop chasing us! You know, there was a time, you'd just…" He waved his paw. “Imagine things and they'd happen!" Then he narrowed is eyes. “You're not getting all depressed like last year, are you? Gonna be a pretty bullshit ending if all of this just…falls apart around you, and you're human again, and The Writer is just...staring at some emo band poster, with a single tear trailing down his cheek."

“Pppprrbbbt."

“Excuse you."

The Coyote pinned his ears again. “I made that noise with my mouth. But trust me, I don't listen to emo bands, and me losing my powers because reality keeps intruding on my fantasy world isn't the problem this year. The problem is…well, I've never had my story fight back like this. They change and alter all the time, but never before has one actively fought against me! I mean literally, fought against me!"

Amaleen shifted and smacked The Coyote across the back of an ear. “Welcome to your characters' world."

“Ow!" The Coyote rubbed his tan furred ear, wincing. “Yeah, yeah. Don't knock my glasses off! Anyway, it's hard for me to find the proper focus to work my powers."

“How do glasses even work on a coyote?"

“Ah!" The Coyote thrust a finger in the air. “I thought of that already. Little bands that hook all the way around my ears!"

“Then they're not really going to fall off, are they?"

“Well, no, but it's a saying."

“Is it?" Valyrym curled his neck. “Said often, is it? Boy, did you see the game last night? That last touchdown really knocked my glasses off."

“Okay, okay."

Amaleen kicked at the coyote's seat. “I couldn't believe that last chapter, it really knocked my glasses off!"

“I get it!"

“Hear about the new Star Wars?" Valyrym lifted his spines, smirking. “I hear it'll really knock your glasses off!"

The Coyote growled, fur bristling. “Enough already, ya lugs!"

“Lugs?" Valyrym snorted. “This isn't a three stooges episode."

The Coyote grumbled. “Shove it under your tail, Val. And I haven't had time to see it yet. Some time after Christmas, hopefully."

“You say that as if there's going to be a world left." Valyrym gestured with his paw at the vast whiteness beyond them. They'd passed out of the swamp and back into The Coyote's world, and the blizzard raged angrier than ever. “Can you believe all this snow?"

“It's crazy, isn't it?"

Valyrym smirked. “Yeah. It really knocks my glasses off."

“Oh shut the fuck up!"

“Coyote said a swear, coyote said a swear!"

“Sorry, Ayly." The Coyote chuckled, glancing back at her.

Ayly pointed her purple paw at him. “You said it before too! I heard it!"

“Okay, well…I'm sorry twice."

“I wanna say two swears too!"

“Alright, go ahead." He whispered to Valyrym. “Bet ya five bucks its poopy butt or something."

Ayly took a deep breath, and yelled her swears at the top of her lungs. “Fuck ass!"

The car went silent save for Ayly's giggling. The Coyote nearly slammed on the breaks. He twisted around to gaze back at her. “Ayly! Where the hell did you hear that?"

“From Lellumgurb." She yawned, stretching her paws. “I want egg nog!"

Amaleen gave a long sigh, picked up a bottle of egg nog. She opened it and passed it to Ayly, then gave Valyrym a long, cold stare. “You need to give serious thought to the company you keep."

“The bird's not my friend. He's Valar's!"

Amaleen just shook her head.

“He is! I don't know why you're blaming me for my son's bad choice in role models for his daughter!"

Amaleen kept glaring at him.

“Oh quit looking at me like that!" The old dragon turned his head to look away, staring at the snow-shrouded road ahead of them. “You can take your complaints to Valar. I've done everything in my power to raise my granddaughter in a responsible…" He trailed off, tilting his head, ears lifted. “Ah…Coyote? There's a person up there."

The Coyote pinned his ears back, easing his foot down on the brake. The jeep began to slow, and gradually a form emerged from the snow. Though it was still distant, it looked like a woman. She wore a gold, short sleeved shirt, with some sort of emblem on the shoulders. Black breeches, and boots. The woman stood in the center of the road, and stood stock still despite the cold and snow swirling around her. The Coyote kept his foot on the brake, creeping towards her.

“Is that woman bald?"

“Oh shit." The Coyote brought the car to a stop, gulping.

“What?" Valyrym straightened up, glancing back at Ayly. “Stay buckled, back there."

“It's Arala." The Coyote squeezed the steering wheel, kneading it in his tan furred hands. “The hell is going on? What the hell is Asterbury doing, assembling some kind of, Coyote-story villains league of doom? First him, then Aylaryl and Varcorak, now Arala?"

“Dare I ask who Arala is?"

The Coyote scrunched his muzzle. “She's a villain. An old villain. One of my first novel attempts. It was sort of…" He waved a hand. “Fantasy superhero thing."

“So…what, she's got magic?"

“Yeah." The Coyote grimaced. “Something like that. And see, her powers were tied to the voice in her head, and the voice turned out to be a dragon from another world. A bad dragon. So when he ended up in her world, she only get stronger and all her people thought she was a miracle worker, and…"

The black dragon snorted, splaying his ears. “Your old stories were weird. Just run her over or something."

“I don't think that's a good idea." The Coyote crept forward a few paces.

“Coyote!" Arala's voice ran out, echoing inside the jeep like a hammer slammed upon an anvil. “Get out of the car!"

“Do not get out of this car!" Amaleen snatched at his hand.

“It might be safer for you three if I do!"

“No!" Amaleen squeezed his wrist. “Don't be stupid! She's just looking to blast you with her magic or something!"

“Coyote!" Arala moved forward, striding through the snow. “Why did you leave us? Why did you forget me?"

“I didn't mean too, Arala." The Coyote eased his foot off the brake, let the jeep creep forward a few paces. “Maybe I can zip around her…"

“Your left our stories untold! You left our lives unfinished!" Arala lifted her hands. The snow froze around her. White light crackled across her fingers. “You left us adrift!"

Arala thrust her hands towards the jeep, and The Coyote cried out. “Hold on!"

Blinding white light crackled everywhere, as if every snowflake was its own bolt of lightning. There was no thunder, only a deep, concussive thud that shook hearts and rattled bones as it slammed into the jeep. The enveloping bolt of magic hit the jeep so hard every window blew out at once. The force of it lifted the vehicle off the ground and flipped it through the air. Everyone screamed as they were flung around against their seat belts while the car tumbled end over end. A few horrifying seconds later and they smashed upside down into a snow drift. The ceiling caved partway in with a deafening metallic crunch.

The Coyote groaned, rubbing his neck. “Oh, God…" Pain rolled through him. He coughed, his ribs ached. When he turned his head, his spine hurt. “Everyone okay? Valyrym? Amaleen? Ayly?"

Valyrym gave a low moan, shifting himself. “I hurt my neck, but…Nothing's broken."

Amaleen hung down against her seat belt, murmuring. “I hurt…everything. But...think I'll live."

The Coyote glanced back at Ayly, upside down in her car seat. She didn't look hurt, but she was crying, her muzzle scrunched in frightened grimace, tears dripping off her muzzle and to the ceiling.

“I don't like this ride anymooooore!"

“No. No, me either, Ayly."

“Coyote!" Arala's voice boomed again. “Answer for your crimes!"

The Coyote unbuckled his seatbelt. He dropped down against the ceiling, crying out as pain jarred him. “Aaah! Damn it. I landed on my ears." He twisted around, stuck an arm out through the shattered driver side window. “You all stay here. I'm gonna go deal with Arala."

“You need help." Valyrym worked to extricate himself from his tangled belt.

“Probably." The Coyote crawled through the window. “But her world's different than yours, Val. Her powers can hurt you. You need to stay and take care of Amaleen and Ayly." He crawled into the snow, then dusted himself off. “I got this."

No sooner had The Coyote spoken than Arala was on him. She snatched him by the throat and hoisted him off his feet as if she was lifting a doll. The Coyote coughed, grabbing at her fingers, her grip iron and immovable. He gagged, kicking his shoes in the air, his tail twitching. He sought focus for his powers, but gasping for breath, he could not find it.

“You left us!" She waved her free hand at the blizzard beyond them. “To this! To limbo!" She tilted her bald head, her unnaturally penetrative gaze fixed upon him. The Coyote could practically feel her stare burning through his very soul. “Look around you, Mongrel. What do you see?"

“A…crazy person?" The Coyote wheezed, kicking at her. Felt like kicking brick. “Standing…in the snow?"

Arala smirked, tilting her head. “You think you're witty? You think this is snow?" She cupped her free hand, let it collect there. “This is limbo. Endless, and white. And for you, fitting. You wanted snow, and so snow it shall be. Forever."

She pivoted, and hurled the coyote across the street. He smashed into another snowdrift, the force of impact burying him inside it. He gasped, inhaling only frozen water. Damn it, why did he make her so strong? He squirmed, fought to the surface of the snow pile, trying to remember how the heroes of that story had beaten her. Bitterness filled him when he remembered he'd never gotten that far. Why not? Something else had come up. Some other story.

The Coyote burst out of the snow, panting. “I didn't cast anyone into limbo!"

“Did you not?" Arala advanced on him, lifting her hands. Snow formed around her fists. “What do you think happens to characters in unfinished stories when they are forgotten? When only their creator ever knew they existed? You breathed life into us, and then you cast us aside. Why?" She thrust a fist forward, and a massive snowball hurtled across the street and smashed into The Coyote's muzzle.

“ARRGH!" The impact knocked The Coyote clear off his feet and onto his back. He groaned, tasting blood. He shook his head, and with bittersweet amusement noted that at least she hadn't knocked his glasses off.

Then Arala thrust her other fist forward, and a second snowball shot across the ground even faster. This one slammed into The Coyote's crotch. He gave an agonized, canine yelp, eyes bugging out as he curled. He curled up tightly, writhing in pain on the snow, his balls aching unbearably. Tears ran down his furry cheeks and he screamed against grit teeth.

“What's the matter, Coyote?" Arala snorted. “I suppose it's not so funny anymore when someone's actually trying to injure you." She snarled, striding towards him. “But at least you feel something! In the limbo you left us in, we don't even feel pain! We drift, endless, aimless, a lifeless husk waiting to be awoken! Because of you!"

The Coyote rolled to his hands and knees, but before he could crawl away or get back to his feet, Arala snatched him by his tail. She hoisted him aloft, and he screamed again, pain flaring down his spine. She lifted him, held him upside down, regarding him. “Why? Why leave us this way? It isn't fair."

“Life…isn't fair!" The Coyote snapped at her, blood rushing to his head.

“A poor excuse." Arala pivoted and hurled him across the street by his tail.

Once more the coyote screamed, something snapped in his tail. He landed on a patch of snowy ground, rolled down a small hill. He curled again, wanting to clutch his balls and his tail and cry into the snow. God, he wasn't supposed to get hurt like this in his own stories. Sure, there was playful kicking in a previous Christmas tale but…he was actually injuring him.

“I think you broke my tail!" The Coyote forced himself back to his feet, staggering up the hill.

“And I should like to break more of you. Pain deserved for all the years of emptiness you have cast upon each and every one of us." Arala held her hand out over the snow, and it formed itself into figures from stories past. A dragon hatchling, a young female magic user, a half-breed coyote/wolf, a dragon suffering depression, and on and on. “Why breathe life into us, if not to let us live our lives? You don't even end us! You just leave us to pass into limbo, to suffer in empty silence-"

“I don't do it on purpose!" The Coyote snarled at her, balling up his fists. “You act like I'm some great villain, when you're the one hurting me just to see me scream! I don't mean to leave anyone behind it, it just…"

“Happens?" Arala threw her hands open, and all the snow figurines blasted apart. “Yes, there's always a new story, a new character who grabs your pitiful heart. You claim to care so much, and yet you think nothing of those of us who you birthed only to see us cast aside like refuse and vermin." Arala sneered at him, striding towards The Coyote. “Well, Vermin. Now it is we who shall cast you…" She trailed off and looked up.

Out of the sky came Varcorak, hurtling towards her. He pulled up from his dive just as he appeared out of the blizzard, lashing out with his hind paws to kick Arala in the chest with all his momentum. The blow lifted her off her feet, launched her across the street and smashed her through the windshield of a snow bound car. The alarm went off as snow cascaded down the damaged vehicle, burying the woman.

Varcorak dropped to the ground, snarling at the car he'd kicked her into. “Get away from him, you Bitch!"

The Coyote's jaw dropped. “Varcorak? I…I thought you were on Asterbury's side."

Varcorak snorted, twisting around to face The Coyote. “You should know me well enough to know I'm on no one's side but my own. I followed you here planning to confront you at your party. I see things are going downhill in a hurry, so I shall make you a deal."

The Coyote took a deep breath, twisting around to look at his tail. Agony poured through the kink in it. “Give me…a moment."

“As you wish."

He took a deep breath, and grabbed his tail The pain flared sharper, and he whined against his scrunched muzzle. He forced himself to focus. Forced himself to imagine a story in which he did not have a broken tail, or bruised testicles, or any other injuries. One by one, his pains slowly faded. His tail straightened itself, and after a few agonizing breaths, all his pain was gone.

“There. Alright, Varcorak." The Coyote hurried back to the mangled jeep to help the others out of it. “I'm listening."

Varcorak spread his green-dappled wings, lifting his head. He flared his gold-edged spines, flashing his fangs. “I shall make you a deal."

“Yes, yes." The Coyote crouched near a broken window, and eased Ayly out through it. “We all know your catch phrase. And you said that bit already."

“It's not a catch phrase." He hissed, unsheathing his claws against the snow-packed ground. “You're infuriating. But no matter. The deal is thus. Invite me to your Christmas party, and I shall help defend you and assist your attempts to reclaim this story."

“Addendum." The Coyote hugged Ayly, then set her down. He helped Amaleen out while Valyrym kicked the door off its hinges. “By accepting invitation to my party, you agree to be on your absolute best behavior, the standard of which is determined by me, not by you. Agreed?"

“Agreed. I will come to your party and behave myself, and in return, I'll help you…" He waved his paw, grinning. “Not die or whatever they have planned for you. We have a deal."

Amaleen walked up to Varcorak and thumped her finger against his chest plates. “I'm gonna kick you in the balls, later."

Varcorak rumbled. “I look forward to it. And to dishing out retaliatory spankings."

She poked him again. “You have to behave yourself!"

The Coyote glanced back. “Amaleen, if you kick him now that he's on our side, he's allowed to spank you."

Amaleen glared at the Coyote, then glanced at the swamp dragon. “You didn't kill that poor Ailsa girl, did you?"

Varcorak flashed her all his teeth. “Wouldn't you like to know? Suffice to say, I liked her, so her chances were…better than slim."

Amaleen folded her arms, still glaring at the swamp dragon. “How did you even find us? I edited the story to make you lose track."

Varcorak curled his neck to smirk down at her. “You misspelled my name. And you spelled gave with a q! I just decided it would be easier to follow you after that."

Amaleen muttered under her breath. “Damn phone typing."

Once everyone was out of the car, The Coyote stepped back, looking it over. “We're gonna need transport."

“I can carry someone, but I refuse to let anyone ride me." Varcorak arched his neck, hissing.

“Too good for riders, are you?" Valyrym snorted, glaring at the swamp dragon. “And they say I'm an ass."

Varcorak tilted his head. “Why are you so small?"

The Coyote turned around to gaze at Valyrym. “Actually, that's a good point. We can't take to the skies because I'm not in control of the weather. That blizzard hid you completely, Varcorak, it could hide Aylaryl just as easily. I don't want to risk her attacking us in the air and sending riders crashing down. But, I am gonna change one thing back to normal."

The Coyote took a step back, rubbing his hands. He closed his eyes, focusing his mind, his imagination. He saw Valyrym as the old dragon had been in his tales long ago. The Coyote imagined Valyrym as he was in his youth. Strong and proud, his ebony scales edged with brilliant blue. A lean, powerful dragon who once waged war against an entire kingdom.

The Coyote imagined The Dread Sky.

He opened his eyes, and Valyrym stood before them, as large as Varcorak, young and powerful again, golden eyes gleaming like fiery beacons. “There. How's that?"

Valyrym looked himself over, and rumbled a purr of approval. “Much better. Now who's ass do I get to kick?"

“We'll get to that in a minute."

Amaleen smiled at Valyrym, gently stroking his neck. “Mmm, there's the dragon I fell in love with."

Varcorak cocked his head, inspecting Valyrym. “Yes, I'm starting to see why."

Valyrym snorted at the swamp dragon. “Don't get your hopes up, Stinky. I only like females."

“What did you call me?"

“What do you expect when you spend your days soaking in swamp water?"

Varcorak snarled, lashing his tail, flaring his tail spines and sharp webbing. “You wanna call me that again? I bathe in the cleanest water, pumped from the depths into my pool-"

“Shut up, both of you! I need to focus on transport!"

Both dragons grunted and fell silent. The Coyote closed his eyes again. He focused on transport, something perfect to get them to their destination. Something appropriate for winter, for a Christmas story. He found a memory from his childhood, something that felt important, beloved. He grasped it into his mind, focused on it. Thrust his hands into the air, and pulled them apart. The snow parted, and his memory came into being.

“What the hell is that piece of crap?"

The Coyote opened his eyes and found himself staring at some kind of flying mechanical sleigh built of red and yellow wood. Toy soldiers lined the front of it atop bright headlights. It hovered just above the ground. Instead of rails, it had six spheres of swirling red and black, three on each side. Black and red rockets sat on either side of it. Stars were cut into the yellow wood.

The Coyote beamed and wagged his tail. “It's the Patch Mobile!"

“The what?" Valyrym lowered his head, sniffing at it.

“The Patch Mobile." The Coyote walked around it, still wagging. He perked his ears and clambered up into the driver's seat. “From Santa Claus the Movie! You know, with Dudley Moore?"

Valyrym hissed, pinning his ears. “Oh, it's a dud, alright."

The Coyote giggled. “It kinda was, yeah. But how cool is this thing?"

“It isn't." Valyrym cocked his head. “Just because you remember it being cool when you were a six year old pup doesn't mean it stands the test of time."

“Aww, don't be like that." The Coyote patted the seat next to him. “Get in!"

“Doesn't this thing need something stupid like…magical candy canes made from…reindeer feed?" Valyrym prowled around the thing.

Ayly hopped up and scrabbled to sit next to The Coyote. “I want magic candy canes too!"

Valyrym walked around the front of it, pushing down on the front bumper. It wobbled. “Doesn't this thing explode in that movie?"

“Aaah…" The Coyote splayed his ears. “No comment."

“I'm not riding in that." Valyrym growled.

“Nor am I." Varcorak snorted, shaking his head. “I'd sooner take my chances flying."

Amaleen climbed up and settled next to The Coyote. “Oh, quit being a baby, Val. The Coyote will keep us as safe as he can."

“He sure kept that jeep safe." Valyrym flopped onto his haunches. “I refuse to ride in your magic candy cane death machine!"

“Valyrym, you either ride in this or I turn it into a traditional santa sleigh, and string you up like a reindeer to pull us along." The Coyote thumped his tail.

“Move over, Amaleen, you're hogging the seat." Valyrym climbed up and settled next to her, shrinking until he fit.

“That's what I thought." The Coyote smirked, and then grabbed the controls. “Everyone ready? Good. Let's go take my story back."

****

16.

The Patch Mobile zoomed across the bleak winter landscape. Amaleen and Valyrym kept shoving glowing candy canes into its engines. When the stocks grew low, The Coyote imagined more. When the engines grew volatile, The Coyote imagined them calm and working nominally again. The Coyote kept them low to the snowy ground to make it harder for the weather to affect them. He zipped back and forth around trees and houses as he neared his old neighborhood.

“Wheeeee!" Ayly clapped her paws, giggling. “B-Movie ride!"

“You're being generous." Valyrym tossed his head, hissing. “More like C-movie at best."

“Hey!" The Coyote laughed, glancing over. “It had Dudley Moore in it!"

“I love how you keep saying that as if it's a positive."

The Coyote laughed, shaking his head. “John Lithgow was in it, too!"

“And he wishes every day he wasn't."

“Is that your house?!" Varcorak's booming voice carried through the snow as he flew alongside the Patch Mobile. “I'm impressed, Coyote!"

At the end of the neighborhood loomed a ruined fortress atop a craggy mountain. Broken walls stood atop granite cliffs. A spiraling tower rose from the back of the ruin. A twisting pathway laid with old stone stairs wove back and forth up the mountain towards the front gate, now barred by a heavy portcullis. A purple dragon circled the place, roaring a challenge to the approaching group. Atop the tower stood a cackling urd'thin in a golden robe. Above it all churned a hole in space-time, a black maelstrom eating the sky itself. Bit by bit, it was devouring the entire story.

“Ooooooh." The Coyote gulped. “That's new. I knew I shoulda called those quantum mechanics to fix that last year."

“What's that do to your property values?" Valyrym craned his neck, flexing his wings.

“Yeah, yeah. Alright." The Coyote eased the Patch Mobile to a stop. Vorcarak backwinged a few times, and dropped to the ground. “The goal is to get me to my computer. I can re-take the story from there."

“Why doesn't Asterbury just hurl it out that window and smash it?"

“Because it's got everyone else's story in it, too. If he does that, we all cease to exist. Even him." The Coyote splayed his ears back. “At least that's my guess. Look, we'll do what we gotta do, but I need to get to that computer."

“Fair enough, Coyote." Varcorak prowled back and forth. “What do you want us to do?"

“Varcorak, you take care of Aylaryl."

“Oh, I'll take care of her alright." Varcorak purred and licked his muzzle. “With my c-"

“Hatchling appropriate, please."

“Mommy…daddy…hugs?" Varcorak snarled. “I don't know how to be hatchling appropriate!"

The Coyote ignored him. “Valyrym, I need you to get inside, and secure the computer. Amaleen, you and Ayly find Krek and Vatch and set them free."

Ayly gasped. “Lellumgurb's in trouble!?"

“Yeah." The Coyote crouched down and put his hand on Ayly's head. “And it's up to you to save him. You think you can do that?"

Ayly blinked at him. “Well duh! Nobody messes with my soggy giffid!"

The Coyote smirked and stood back up. “Works for me."

Valyrym nudged The Coyote with his nose. “And what are you going to do?"

The Coyote rubbed Valyrym's nose, then clambered back into the Patch Mobile. He gave the dragon a smirk. “You said it yourself, this thing's about to explode! So I'm gonna go say hi to Asterbury. Get ready to catch me!"

“That sounds like a great-what!?" Valyrym jerked his head back, but The Coyote was already blasting forward across the snow.

As the machine accelerated, The Coyote pulled back on the stick, guiding it up into the air. Snow billowed and swirled around his face. Biting winds flattened back his fur, and snowflakes stained his glasses. He growled, his fangs bared in a perpetual snarl. His breath came in angry pants, clouds of steam swirling around him with every exhalation.

“Come to my story?" The Coyote growled his words, his tail bushed out. “Try to hurt my friends? Hurt me? Ruin my favorite holiday?! Oooh, I got something to stick in your stocking, your rotten little Joker-ripoff!"

In his peripheral vision, The Coyote saw Varcorak shoot through the sky and slam into Aylaryl. They roared and snarled and toppled to the ground together. The two dragons rolled down the mountain, clawing and biting until they were out of sight. On the other side of him, Valyrym accelerated into the sky just behind the canine sleigh pilot. The Coyote pulled the stick back harder, angling for the top of the spiraling tower that was once his chimney.

Asterbury danced around the tower's roof, one hand on its spire as he spun. “Whahahahaha!" He lifted a hand and pointed to the sky! “And here we go in three…two…"

Uh oh.

A flash of light rippled across the singularity, and Revaramek tumbled out of it, flailing his limbs. The dragon fell just between The Coyote and the top of the tower, back-winging to stop his fall. The Coyote screamed and slammed the stick down, diving under the dragon to avoid killing his newest novel's star. Instead of aiming for the top of the stone turret where Asterbury was, the Patch Mobile ended up aimed for the base of it.

“Valyrym!" The Coyote leapt out of the mechanical sleigh, tumbling through the air.

Valyrym snatched him around the middle, and The Coyote clung to his limb as they streaked away from the fortress. The Patch Mobile hurtled beneath Revaramek and smashed into the base of the tower. It exploded in an eruption of sparkling lights and candy cane fragments and blew the stonework apart. The tower leaned over, and as it began to fall, Asterbury calmly skipped along its length all the way down before he leapt to a ruined wall, sticking out his tongue.

“Looks like you missed, Coyote!"

Revaramek spun in the air and ascended back towards the black void in the sky. Another flash of light rolled across it, and with a scream Mirelle toppled out next. Revaramek caught her, and clutched her to his chest, heading for the earth. More flashes of light followed, and soon it was Alvaranox swooping around, catching Kirra and Nylah. Then a young black dragon, and a wolf, and a blue dragon and a one-armed man he hadn't thought of in years all spilled from the hole in reality.

“What the FUCK!?" The Coyote stared, his jaw hanging open as Valyrym headed for the ground.

Asterbury walked he length of a ruined wall, cackling. “It's just not a party till the uninvited guests come crashing in! Speaking of!" He thrust what looked like Vatch's mace, pointing across the street. “I think someone wants a word with you, you terrible monster!"

Valyrym touched his hind paws in the snow, well down the street from what was once The Coyote's house. His wing beats swirled the heavy accumulation in all directions. “Now what?"

“Find the computer!" The Coyote rubbed his neck, gave him a smile, and then turned up the street. “I'll deal with…whoever else he's brought!"

Valyrym nodded, and gave The Coyote's ear a lick. “Yell for the sexy dragon if you need him!" He leapt into the sky, blowing more snow around.

The Coyote shielded his eyes with a tan-furred arm, jogging back towards his house. In the distance, he heard snarls and pained cries. Through the storm, he glimpsed Varcorak hurl Aylaryl into one of his neighbor's houses. A few moments later and she exploded back through it, smashing the swamp dragon into a line of trees. They snapped and toppled beneath the weight of the combatants.

While they rolled in the opposite direction, The Coyote ran past where they were fighting. No sense getting himself crushed before he could write this story a proper ending. As he ran, he wondered where Amaleen and Ayly were. He hadn't had a chance to see where they'd gotten to. With any luck, they were freeing some help for all of them.

That reminded him of the new arrivals. He glanced towards the back of his house where Revaramek and the newcomers had arrived. The Coyote grit his jaw. He wasn't entirely sure Velga was going to be on his side, not with the way Asterbury seemed to have his own little roster of villains under his command. He was gonna have to-

“Coyote."

The voice was old and haggard. Unexpected sorrow filled it as if sadness had rushed to fill a void once held by power. The Coyote whirled towards it to find an old black dragon slinking out of a house. The lights were on in the house, space heaters glowed orange. The old dragon had been sheltering from the snow. For a moment, the old dragon looked unfamiliar. His black scales looked dull, coarse. He lacked tail spines entirely. Instead, he had sails on either side of his tail base, like miniature wings. Rusted shackles bound each wrist and ankle, with another around his neck, and tail. Broken chains hung from them, dragging in the snow as the old dragon limped towards him.

The Coyote took a few steps back. “Who…who are you?"

The old dragon snorted, bitterness poisoning his voice. “You don't even recognize me anymore. I shouldn't be surprised. To have left me like this, chained in that horrible place. You couldn't have ever cared about me. Or my story. Or my world." His piercing, ice blue gaze fell. “Or Kylah."

The Coyote sucked in a breath when realization hit him, a fiery blade driven into his heart. “Vraal?"

Vraal snorted, shuffling around the coyote. His chains rattled. “So you do remember."

“Of course I remember! How could I forget?"

“An excellent question that I myself once wanted answered." He lifted a forepaw, gave one of the chains a baleful glare, and then sighed. “Now it hardly seems to matter. Your whole world is crumbling, and here you are conversing with a bitter old dragon you long since abandoned. Perhaps you'd best fix your story before it's too late."

“I…I didn't forget you, Vraal." The Coyote swallowed, his ears drooping. “You…you just…well you got the chains, and you're all scrawny and…Heh, I thought you…I dunno, like doing a ghost of Christmas past bit."

“Ghost?" The dragon cocked his head. “Oh, a reference. Clever. I wonder, Coyote…" Vraal took a breath, and gave a long sigh. “How do you expect a dragon to look after five long years, chained to the floor of a tiny room? Kept in the darkness, treated like an animal. Fed on scraps and filth."

The Coyote froze, his hands trembling. “Wh-what?"

“That's where you left me." He turned his head, gazing in the distance to where Valyrym was working to pry the front gate open. “When you started writing his story." Alvaranox bound up alongside him, and helped him wrench the metal from its hinges. “And his. And all the others since. And so there I waited. In the darkness. In the cold." He lifted a forepaw, shook the shackle. “With these. Rubbing my scales raw. Wondering what had happened to poor Kylah…wishing they'd just finish us off."

“They…they weren't going to kill you!" The Coyote rubbed his tan furred hands together, his heart racing. “You…you were going to escape!"

“Was I?" Vraal snorted, splaying his crests. “That would have been nice."

“Yes!" The Coyote took a step forward, swallowing at the rising lump in his throat. “Vraal, I…I never meant to leave you there! I…you were going to trick Aslyra, wasn't that her name? The villain?"

“You can't even remember." The dragon sighed and turned away. “I'm going back where it's warm to await the end of this world."

“No, Vraal!" The Coyote followed after him. “She was going to make you march Kylah's army into an ambush, but you were going to trick her! You were going to dress up all the prisoners you'd captured from freeing all those towns, and march them in your peoples' uniforms! Then…then, those catapults, in the woods, you…you were going turn them against Aslyra! You…you were going to save Kylah!"

The Coyote's voice grew softer with every word. His eyes darted to shadows, images of walls and chains and fetid water in his head. “You'd save her, and get a witty line and fight Aslyra and…you might get wounded, and…you'd wonder about your children, but…you'd…you'd tell Kylah your story…and she'd write it all down…"

“You're babbling, Coyote." Vraal eased himself down near the glowing space heaters with a long groan. “But it would have been nice, to have someone know my story." He lay his head down on one of his shackled forepaws. “To have my story end."

The Coyote ran a hand down his face, sighing. “At least people read some of your story! People really liked you, Vraal!"

“And what consolation that has been, in my many years bound withering in the darkness where you left me to rot." The dragon glared at The Coyote through slitted blue eyes. “It wasn't fair. You let me think I was going to do great things. You made me believe in myself, in my people. Made me think I could…make something great of myself before I faded like the rest. And then left me to rot…until I found myself in that same limbo they want to cast you into." He sighed, and closed his eyes. “It wasn't fair."

“It's not fair?" How many times had he heard that in his life? Anger built in the coyote, a whole ruined Christmas story's worth, anger built from a life spent worrying for his health, his future, of struggling to put stories together, struggling to stay happy even when nothing was ever, ever fair. “It's not fair!?"

The Coyote screamed as his anger and pain, so often smothered, erupted all at once. “Well life's not fucking fair!"

Was all this just because they felt mistreated simply because he'd never finished their tales? He stomped against the floorboards. The walls of the house flexed and bent, rippled like water as the story world wavered around the furious canine.

“No, it's not fair I didn't finish your story!" He jabbed his finger in the air, the world bent around it. “But I'm not some monster who put you there on purpose! I'm not some heartless wretch who gave you life just to watch to suffer! Every new character I create, I love just as much as the last! Every time I start a story, I'm sure I'll see it through to the end! But…things happen!" Anger built in The Coyote till his words were a roar and the whole story shimmered around him. “Life happens!" He spun around and slammed his fist into the wall, blowing a hole right through it. A shockwave washed across the snow.

“No, Vraal, nothing that happened to you was fair! No, your story shouldn't have left you in the middle of the single darkest, most painful chapter in the whole novel! But it did, because…because damn it, sometimes that's how life goes!" He snarled, threw his fists in the air, wanting to roar and rage and tear this story down piece by piece. “Life is never fair! Does the egg get to complain to the snake that eats it about how it never got hatch? That it never got to breathe? No! That's not fair, but that's fucking life, Vraal!"

The Coyote strode out into the street, his voice a call that everyone could hear now, echoing across what remained of his story. “What do you all want from me, today? An apology? Fine! FINE! I'm sorry I never finished your stories! I did not do it on purpose! You've all heard me say that mind's a goddamn gumball machine that my muse just keeps turning! Every time she turns it again, another idea fills my head and I've just got to write about it! And no, that's not fair to you! That's not fair to the readers of your stories! But life…" The Coyote kicked at the snow, and it blasted away from him in a circular wave, the ground cracked beneath his feet. “Life's not fucking fair!"

Panting, The Coyote stormed down the street towards his old house. “You want to talk about fair? Here's fair! I could die at any time, at any fucking time from a random blood clot because my own body's always trying to destroy my own blood! That's why I'm stuck at the stupid hospital getting IVs all the damn time! But do you hear me bitch and moan about my lot in life? Do I blame someone else and try to make them feel my pain? No! And do you know why? Because that's life! That's the point of life! To live!"

“Any one of us, at any time, could die!" He slapped the back of his hand against his palm. “None of our stories will ever end where we want them too. No one's life goes as planned! And sooner or later, everyone's life ends unexpectedly! And that's not fair! Rare is the day when anyone gets what they truly deserve, for better or for worse, and that...That's life, so learn to enjoy it!"

He panted, grabbing his ears, wanting tear his damn fur out. He took a few deeper breaths, snarling through his teeth. “In fact, that's the whole point of life! None of us know how much time we have, none of us know when our story will end!" He turned back towards Vraal, his voice softening. “Or…if our story will end. Sometimes things just…stop. Sometimes people die, sometimes people move on without you, sometimes people forget you. And it's never fair." He sniffed, his rage turning to a moment of sorrow. “It's never fair."

The Coyote walked back towards Vraal, the snow parting around him, forming a corridor towards the old dragon. “But that's life, Vraal. I did not give you the ending you deserve, and for that I am sorry. I left you in a terrible place, and for that too, I am sorry. But I gave you happiness, Vraal. I gave you something great with Kylah, I showed you joy and love and helped you find a way to forgive yourself. And if I had not started your story in the first place, those are things you'd have never known. You were something great, Vraal, and you still are. I am truly sorry for the way things turned out for you, but…that is life. I hope you enjoyed your time while you had it, I hope you savored happy times while you could, and I am sorry I could not give you more. But, life, Vraal, is about finding your happiness while you can, and savoring every moment of joy you have, because you never know when it will be your last. Cling to despair, and despair is all you will know until your ending day." The Coyote took a deep, shuddering breath, a few tears wetting his glasses. “The meaning of life, Vraal, is simple. Enjoy it while you can, because life is meant to be enjoyed."

Vraal trudged out into the corridor of snow, his blue eyes shining. “Perhaps…I…put too much blame on you. I…I am sorry."

The Coyote shook his head. “You don't have to apologize. I shouldn't have gotten so angry. Gimme a hug?"

“Of course." Vraal settled onto his haunches and hugged The Coyote up against his chest, purring softly. The Coyote reached around him as far as he could, letting his warmth infuse the old dragon to reinvigorate him. Light flashed across his shackles, and they burned away, disintegrating. He pulled his head back, glancing at his wrists. A smile crept over his muzzle. “Thank you."

“Merry Christmas, Vraal."

“Suppose you always did like sappy endings."

“I do." The Coyote sighed, easing away from the dragons. “Now go back to your heater. I've got a little furry ass to kick before I can get my party started."

****

17.

The Coyote spread Christmas in his wake as he walked down the street. His focus complete, the blizzard abated around him. The swirling snow built itself into snowmen and reindeer. Collapsed buildings put themselves back together again. Streamers of brilliant lights stretched across every house, and circled every tree. Warmth and happy families filled the houses he passed. Ahead of him was chaos, and behind him was peace.

This was just what he needed. A moment of emotion, raw and unfiltered. And then a moment of happiness, a moment to remember why he loved Christmas. That one special day a day when there was no pain or fear for him, when there was only joy, only peace in his heart. And in his mind, the snow always fell on Christmas. That was Asterbury's biggest mistake.

He made the snow fall.

The snowfall brought peace, and peace brought focus. And focus brought the story.

The Coyote spread his hands to the sky. He transmuted the swirling blizzard into peaceful, gentle snow.

I write to make the snow fall.

“You know, Asterbury." The Coyote's voice was a booming call that shook snow from the barren trees. “If you read last year's Christmas story, you'd know the snow only makes me stronger."

“You've a lot of fancy tricks, Coyote!" Asterbury stood at the top of the steps to the fortress, flourishing his golden robe. “But I've a got a better one! And first? First I have people who want to say hello!"

Asterbury clapped twice, and a massive, agile lizard-like creature burst through the broken gate, and sprinted down the stairs. It was covered in oily black and shining silver scales, looking vaguely like a lithe, wingless dragon. As soon as it skidded down the street, its colors rippled and vanished, turning the whole thing invisible, save for a faint distortion in the air.

The Coyote came to a stop as beast charged him. Been a long since he'd written about those guys. He threw his hands forward, and all the snow around him coalesced in an instant into a towering, solid wall. The beast crashed into it with a started cough, and flopped to the street, groaning. The Coyote flicked his fingers forward, and the snowy wall collapsed onto the creature, burying it beneath.

Stairs formed in the immense mound of snow, and the Coyote crossed it. “I'm getting sick and tired of you trying to turn my own friends against me, Asterbury!"

“Oh, I bet you are! But do you know who's really tired of it?" Asterbury turned around, gazing to the upper floor of the battered fortress. “Valyrym!"

On the top floor, Valyrym was valiantly battling an entire army of the silver-black lizards. He hurled one back down the stairs, into another. They both toppled down onto the first floor, smashing Christmas presents beneath the overturned tree. A third creature ran straight up along the wall like an oversized gecko, then leapt onto Valyrym's back. While he struggled with it, a fourth creature scaled the other side of the wall, and dropped into The Coyote's bedroom to protect the computer.

The Coyote growled, and broke into a run. Christmas trees sprung up in his wake, each with different kind of lights. Blue LEDs, giant rainbow bulbs, tiny neon ones. “Alvaranox! Get to the bedroom! Help Val!"

The big green dragon broke away from helping Varcorak fight Aylaryl behind the house. He charged up the rocky hill. He leapt and beat his wings, soared over the broken walls, and dropped through the shattered roof into the bedroom. With a roar, he hurled the black and silver beast right out of the fortress. Then he smashed straight through the remnants of the wall alongside The Coyote's bedroom door, and bit down on the tail of the monster on Valyrym's back. The beast shrieked in pain and whirled on Alvaranox.

Asterbury cackled, scrambling across bits of furniture circling in the air below the singularity. “What have we here? Why, it's all your half-formed ideas!"

Monstrosities fell from the singularity. Malformed creatures The Coyote had glimpsed in his mind yet never put to page, never flashed out. A skeletal dragon with a helmet stumbled across the frozen yard. Headless, deformed bipedal creatures clambered across the walls. A gryphon with no feathers, and festering skin gave a strangled squawk, cornering Mirelle, Kirra, and Nylah.

With a roar, Revaramek charged into the thing, smashing it up against a book case that had tumbled from the home-turned fortress. He battered it with his paws, claws drawing black ichor from veins that never quite knew life.

Mirelle ran up to one of the skeletal things and wrenched a leg bone from its body. She battered at it with its own femur. The other two women followed her lead, snatching up bones, body parts, and broken stone to beat back the rising horde of malformed beasts. Sapphire and Solivaar took the air, swooping down to blast some of with fire. The stink of burning flesh drifted with the snow. Tatchta and Velga both spun amidst the half-formed flesh husks, blades darting, slashing, and severing.

After smashing the femur over another shambling beast's head, Mirelle called out to The Coyote. “You can fix things any time now!"

“Doing my best, Mirelle!" The Coyote sprinted up the stairs to the fortress.

“Oh, but Coyote…look who I found!" Asterbury cackled from a atop a rotating desk chair, spinning in the air. He pointed to the gateway. “I hope you don't mind me bringing one your greatest and most maliciously ignored villains to play!"

“Aw, hell, it's Armas, isn't it."

“Spoilsport!"

“Hello, Coyote."

From the gateway emerged a powerful man, twin swords strapped across his back. Ancient tribal tattoos marked his shaved head. Every step he took was measured and graceful. He moved down the stairs and The Coyote backed away from him. One of his favorite villains of all time, and one of the most dangerous men he'd ever written.

“Hello, Armas. I…ah…I suppose you gotta try and stop me, but…I gotta get to that computer."

Armas continued to walk towards him. “May I ask you a question, Coyote?"

“If you make it quick."

“Why did you write me, if you did not intend for my story to be shared?"

The Coyote stopped backing up. He balled up his fists again, a snarl creeping across his muzzle. “I always intended for your story to be shared! You lived a full life, more so than half my other characters! I…" Behind Armas, more silver-black monsters were charging up the stairs and scaling the walls. “Wait, didn't you hear what I said to Vraal? I was doing that whole, epic booming voice thing."

Armas tilted his head. “I heard, Coyote. We all have our own burdens to bear. It is not my place to add my burden to yours. I simply wanted to thank you for giving Legend and I life, even if that life is never glimpsed by any other. You passed my test when you spoke to Vraal. You may proceed."

“Oh…um…thanks, buddy!" The Coyote clapped Armas on the arm, and hurried past him.

“What?" Asterbury cried out from atop his spinning chair. “That was it? Aww, rip off!" He thrust his mace at Armas. “You're going back to Limbo."

Armas drew both his swords. “You are welcome to try, little creature."

“Oh, I'll do more than try! I've played this game long enough! It's time to send this mangy mongrel back where he belongs!"

Asterbury's chair spun into the air, and he spun with it, cackling as it surged across the fortress for the Coyote's bedroom. He took a breath, and threw out his hands, then yanked them up into the air. The Coyote's entire bedroom cracked free of the rest of the fortress, floating towards the Urd'thin. As Valyrym and Alvaranox tried to extricate themselves from their battle with the silver-black monsters, Asterbury floated above the bedroom. He lifted his hand again, and the Computer floated up towards him.

Asterbury cackled, holding his hands out for the computer. “Now I'm going to delete you all! Whahahaha-what the hell?"

“WHEEEEEE! Giffid ride!"

Krek leapt up from where he'd been bound in the room, silver tinsel and shining lights hanging from his wrists and ankles. He snarled as he hurtled into the sky, straight for the urd'thin. Ayly clung to his back, giggling and pointing at Asterbury with her purple paw.

“Get 'em Lellemgurb!"

Krek slammed into the bottom of the urd'thin's spinning desk chair, knocking Asterbury off it. He tumbled down into the Coyote's bedroom, landing with a cough on the oversized bed. Then the whole bedroom crashed back down against the house, sliding down the side of the mountain before it came to a stop in the snow. Walls crumpled to the ground and dust mingled with the snow in the air. One wall crushed The Coyote's desk. The Computer toppled back to earth as well, landing on the bed and rolling off, battered but undamaged.

Asterbury groaned and rolled over. “You…you always do this." He sat up, snarling as dragons and maidens and warriors and wolves closed in. “You always…try to cram in…too many ideas. This story!" He waved his hand at them, then wiped blood from his nose. “It's…overstuffed. It's too long, and it's…rushed!" He snorted, then spat a tooth on the floor. “But in the end…" He panted a few times, smirking. “I still win. You see…I already wrote the next paragraph! I was…just…waiting for this."

Even after everything it had been through, The Coyote's old computer kept running. In the end, its durability was their doom. Lord Asterbury had left the story open, and he'd already hit select all. The whole story was highlighted.

“I win, Coyote. Enjoy your limbo."

Asterbury pushed the delete key, and saved the empty story.

****

18.

The Coyote was alone. White emptiness and silence surrounded him. He gazed around a moment, and folded his arms. He sighed, and shook his head. “Well, this sucks."

For a little while, he wandered. No matter how many steps he took, nothing changed. After a while, he flopped down onto his rump, and leaned back onto his hands. “Limbo, huh? Could be worse, I guess."

Time passed.

The Coyote drummed his fingers against the white nothingness. “Kinda boring."

Time passed.

“Be nicer if it was snowing."

Snow swirled around him. The Coyote blinked. Of course. Of course!

It wasn't limbo. It was a blank page. It was still his story.

“This is it?" The Coyote jumped back to his feet, laughing. “This is your ace in the hole, Asterbury!? Oooh! Oohhohhooh!" The Coyote danced a few awkward steps, then stopped and flicked his tail. “Alright, you dance better than me, but you can't world-build for shit, little man! You think you've got powers cause you can change the story? I am the story! I build worlds out of nothing and I do it every day!"

The Coyote jumped up and down, excitement coursing through him. He stopped and took a breath. “Let's see…Christmas story…Christmas story…I can do this. I need…two things."

The Coyote focused. In the distance, something wavered, and shimmered into being. He trotted over to it. An old fashioned CD-player, with big, coyote-ear sized headphones plugged in. A stack of CDs soon materialized next to it, a dozen of them.

“There's thing one…now for thing two…"

In the distance, a couple of odd looking characters in red, numbered jumpsuits appeared. The Coyote grimaced and splayed his ears. “Ugh, no. Not you two." He waved his hand at them, and they vanished back into the aether from whence they came.

“Aether from when they came, ooh, I like that." He rubbed his hands together, focusing. “The other thing I need…"

Once more something blinked into existence from out of nothingness. This time it was a refrigerator. The Coyote strolled up to it and popped it open. Every shelf was filled with a myriad different bottles of rare craft beer. There were imperial stouts from California, strong golden ales from Belgium, double IPAs from the west coast, barleywines brewed near his home, and dozens more.

The Coyote smiled. “Perfect."

He pulled out a large bottle of imperial stout brewed with holiday spices. The Coyote bit down on the cork, and yanked it out with his teeth. Then tilted his head back and propped the bottle up to his muzzle. He guzzled down half of it in one long series of gulps, foam spilling across his fur. Then he gasped and wheezed for breath as the cool drink turned to warmth in his veins.

“Yeah. That's a start." The Coyote wiped chocolate colored froth off of his muzzle. “Now…now for the music."

The Coyote settled his headphones over his ears. He turned on the music.

Ears up.

Tail wags.

The Writer writes.

The Coyote creates.

“Turn the knob to…reveal the light…" The Coyote sang as the song began. His voice was out of tune, off time, and yet happy. “Stare across the…empty night…" As The Coyote sang along, words drifted through his mind. He turned on his feet, twisting and stumbling in vague, embarrassing dance. “Dark worlds engrossing, our sun is…sleeping…"

Where Asterbury danced in pirouettes and lunatic twirls, The Coyote stumbled about, waving his arms, shuffling, and generally making a fool of himself. But the story became. The world existed.

“The dance has lost its step…" He spun in a slow, wobbly spiral, painting the white nothingness with his fingers. “The teeth will be shown no more!"

Where Asterbury destroyed, The Coyote created.

Where Asterbury brought chaos and fear, the Coyote brought peace, and joy.

“Alone…alone we find the escape!"

The world began with snow. An endless white expanse, drifting, silent and peaceful. The Coyote drew lines in the air with his fingers, and the snow built itself into shapes. It piled atop itself, bent to new form by boundless imagination. The snow formed spheres, rectangles, cones, first geometry and structure. The Coyote threw up his hands and the snow made mountains out of nothing.

The music accelerated, rising in tempo and emotion, and The Coyote moved faster, singing louder. “A steam of lights blink, mesmerize my senses!" He swiped his hands in the air, and colors splattered the snow existence. Green trees, red brick walls, shimmering, twinkling rainbow lights. Another thrust of his hands, another snowy shape painted into being. A house, a car, a Christmas tree. He threw his hands forward, and colors sprang into vibrant being in long lines. Houses erupted from the snow, slathered in red and white Christmas lights.

A familiar neighborhood.

The music picked up again, and the singer snarled his words. The Coyote did the same, banging his head as he added his canine growl to the music. “Madness embrace the vault! Cannot wait…any longeeerrrr!"

The Coyote threw his hands wide, and characters burst into existence all around him. An old black dragon. A purple-painted hatchling. A green dragon, a black gryphon, an older woman. A hundred more characters came into being, and then hundred more after them. Some with names, others nameless, but all important, all loved in their own way.

The Coyote twisted and swiped his hand in the air, pushing the whole of existence aside. Everything he'd created spun past him, a blur of color and light. He flicked his fingers in the air, and brought the spinning world to an instant stop. An empty space in the snow stood before him where his own house once lay. He took a breath, and remembered the house as he last saw it. A crumbled ruin atop a mountain.

The broken fortress came into focus as the song changed. The Coyote bobbed his head, murmuring. “Render…the dwellers…with freedom." He lifted his hand, fingers towards the top of the fortress, then slowly eased his hand down. The mountain shrank back into the earth till the broken house sat once more on a small, flat lot. “Matter…develops…your kingdom!"

Bit by bit, The Coyote lifted the shattered walls, and set them back in place. He pushed his hands against the air, guiding the roof to assemble itself again. Crushed presents under his tree blossomed into full form, wrapped with shiny red bows. Snow dusted the roof. The door returned from the other side of the street, and locked itself back in the doorway.

Smiling, The Coyote strode up the sidewalk to his house. Snow crunched under his shoes, the sound familiar, calming. The icy winds that buffeted his fur were refreshing now, not biting. The front door opened for him, and he walked inside. The whole house seemed frozen in a scene from a memory. Black and silver lizard creatures remained stuck in place in the stairwell. Valyrym faced them down, stopped in mid-roar. The Coyote touched each monster one at a time, and they blinked out of the story. He'd make a place for them later.

In the kitchen, the singularity churned above the center island. With his repairs to the story, it was once more small and contained inside the house. But unlike everything else, it continued to churn and swirl, story fragments circling it. The Coyote walked around it, collecting the story fragments. He traced a finger on the floor, and safe built itself from the ground. The Coyote put the story fragments inside, locked the safe, and then ran a finger in a circle across the front of. A green wreath decorated with pine cones and ribbons appeared.

He turned back to the singularity. He needed to get that fixed. But for now…He stretched his hands, and a big, black box appeared between them. The box was built of solid obsidian, and the word PLOT was written upon it in a string of Christmas lights. The Coyote traced a large hole in the side of the box, and then pushed it over the singularity.

He smirked, and closed up the hole, and tucked it away in the safe.

“Almost done."

The Coyote glanced around the empty, kitchen, smiling. He swiped his hand again, and the barren room was wiped away and vanished out of view, like scrolling photos on a phone. In its place was the exact same room, now ready for his annual Christmas party. Platters, trays and plates laden with food and treats covered every available counter and table. There were deviled eggs, meat and cheese boards, charcuterie plates with half a dozen types of salami, vegetables and dipping sauces, pickled everything, smoked fish, oysters and clams, cookies, cakes, fudge, egg nog, punch, beer and wine, and every liquor in this world and every other.

The Coyote smiled. “Only one thing left."

He swiped his hand once more, and again the world changed. Now the house and its yard were populated by all his characters, everyone dressed for the holidays, laughing, loving, and having a wonderful time. All frozen in time, in the midst of happiness and merriment.

The Coyote smiled.

Ears perk.

Tail wags.

The Coyote drew a square made of tinsel in the air. Then he drew a triangle inside it, glowing and gold. It hovered, waiting for his touch.

With a happy smile, The Coyote pushed PLAY.

****

19.

Laughing, happy and half drunk, The Coyote wandered his party. He carried a chalice filled with strong, dark beer, one of his Christmas time favorites. He sipped it as greeted everyone he'd invited to join him, and this year, this year he'd invited everyone. For all those who had helped him save the story, it was a time to celebrate their success. He made sure everyone involved remembered all that happened. He knew every moment in life made them what they were. And for all those who weren't part of this year's adventures, he made sure they'd get to hear all the tales.

Mirelle, Nylah, and Kirra were all gathered around a table, drinking wine and trading stories about obnoxious green dragons and stubborn councils. Alvaranox and Revaramek were arguing about who was more resplendent. Ayly rode Krek around kitchen table, spilling egg nog. Valyrym and Amaleen talked about old times, and Amaleen and Alia compared Valyrym's many irritating habits. Solivaar and Sapphire snuggled in a corner, feeding each other treats. Vraal wandered, happy just to chat with other dragons again. A blue dragon and a redheaded woman made mischief and stuffed themselves with ham and cake. Lord Velga and Master General Armas both savored bourbon, and discussed the finer points of being villains with sympathetic arcs. A green hatchling with golden flecks named Legend chased Young Valar around the room, giggling and laughing. When no one was listening, they gave each other pointers on how to get away with anything just because they were adorable.

After a while, Valyrym's sister Narymiryn eased away from the others, and walked up to Alvaranox. She cocked her head, then ran a black striped foreleg down his chest plates. “When's the last time you got laid?"

Alvaranox nearly chocked on his tongue. “Uh…years?"

“You poor thing." She smiled and licked the green dragon's neck. “Let's go fix that."

Alvaranox jumped to his paws. “Oh thank god!" He glanced back at Revaramek. “Tell Kirra and the old lady not to wait up."

As the night wore on, the groups changed. Kylaryn, Ayly's grandmother, settled into a warm corner, with her mate Voskalar on one side, and her son, Valar, on the other. She did not get to see Valar often any more, and even less so under pleasant circumstances. They laughed and drank together, discussing their favorite memories of better times.

Varcorak, who had followed up on his word and remained on his best behavior, stuffed his muzzle with the most indulgent treats he could find. Krek sat next to him, with his own lover Kathlyn snuggled under his wing. She stroked his feathers and laughed while the gryphon and the swamp dragon swapped dirty stories about old conquests.

Aylaryl eventually came to sit next to Revaramek. For once, the child-like green dragon didn't say anything foolish or anything insulting. He smiled and draped his wing over her, and Aylaryl sighed and snuggled up against him.

The Coyote wandered a while, refreshing drinks, adding more snacks to the platters. Something seemed missing, though. Some plot thread left dangling. When it clicked, he padded over to Krek, titling his head.

“Ah, hey buddy."

Krek smiled at up him from alongside Varcorak. “Hello, Coyote. Seems everything's turned out splendid in the end."

“Yeah." The Coyote smiled and wagged his tail. Then his smile faded a little. “Um…so…this is a terrible question but…what happened to Vatch?"

Krek flicked and splayed his silver crown feathers. “That is an excellent question. I think he got locked in a closet."

“Oh." The Coyote splayed his ears, humming to himself. “Well that's not good."

Krek tilted his head, smirking. “You might want to fix that."

“Yeah." The Coyote sipped his beer, licking his muzzle. “I guess so."

He set his glass down, and stepped back. He took a breath, and imagined Vatch, freed from his festive bonds, and standing amidst everyone. Vatch flashed into existence and stumbled forward, swinging his fists and snarling.

“Vatch get you good you…hey…what happen? Where Vatch?" Vatch looked around, his dark eyes wide, big ears perked. “Is party?"

The Coyote laughed and ruffled Vatch's fur between his horns. “Yeah, Vatch. Is party."

“But what happen?" Vatch turned in a slow circle, then spotted Krek. “Krek you okay? What happen? First Vatch was in closest, now Vatch out of closet!" He threw his hands up, pinning his big brown furred ears. “How Vatch come out of closet?"

“I'd start with your family and friends." Krek ruffled himself, grinning.

The Coyote burst out laughing, and left Vatch to muddle through that one. As he walked out into the darker, quieter front room, he spotted a small figure in a gold robe seated on the large sofa. Big, gray furred ears were splayed back, and the figure's arms were folded over his chest. He grumbled and muttered, bushy gray tail flicking against the couch cushion.

“Awww, don't be cranky, Asterbury." The Coyote strolled out into the living room, smiling down at the villain.

“Why the hell not? You ruined my plan, you put everything back in place, and now you've got your stupid, sappy Christmas ending!" He kicked his feet against the sofa. “I hate Christmas endings."

“Don't be like that." The Coyote sipped his beer again. “At least you got invited to the party, right?"

“Only because you're a soft-hearted wretch who felt guilty about leaving your villains out!" Asterbury narrowed his eyes, glaring at him. “And I don't even have my powers now!" He glanced away. “And no one will talk to me."

“Aww, they're just mad at ya." The Coyote grinned and ruffled Asterbury's fur just like he had Vatch's. Asterbury flailed and The Coyote laughed. “They'll get over it. You should go out there, enjoy yourself."

Asterbury growled under his breath. “I should think you'd be far angrier with me."

The Coyote took a deep breath. He let it out in a long sigh, and took an even longer drink of beer. “Look, man."

“Aren't you quite the hipster."

The Coyote smirked. “I'm a far cry from anything hipster. I might like craft beer and good food, but I also like death metal and head banging, and fantasy, and camping and…"

Asterbury waved his hand. “Yes, you're quite the fully fleshed out character."

Grinning, The Coyote gestured with his glass. “The point is, life's too damn short to stay angry or hold grudges or waste what little, precious time we have on anger and hatred. Just enjoy what you can, while you can. So…yeah, I was mad. Still am, a little. But I'll let it go and move on, you should too. And the fact I turned your own plan against you kinda makes me happy."

Asterbury snarled, looking away. “Lucky you."

“Alright, ya sore loser. Come here and give me a hug. You'll feel better." The Coyote set his glass down.

“Really?" Asterbury looked up, suspicious.

“Yeah. Really. Come on." The Coyote held his arms out.

“Oh…if I must." Asterbury hopped off the sofa and walked up to The Coyote.

The Coyote bent over and hugged the little Urd'thin tightly, rubbing his back. To his surprise, Asterbury returned the hug, squeezing him a moment. They parted, and the urd'thin rubbed one of his big ears. “I…well…I actually do feel a little better. Thank you, Coyote."

“You're welcome. Merry Christmas, Asterbury." He picked up his drink, grinning. “Oh. Amaleen wants to say Merry Christmas, too."

“Hmm?" Asterbury turned around to where Amaleen loomed over him.

As soon as he turned around, Amaleen kneed the urd'thin in the balls as hard as she could, lifting Asterbury off his feet. “Merry Christmas, you little monster!"

“HHHHHNNNNNNK!" Asterbury's eyes bugged out, his ears pinned. He wheezed and crumpled in an instant, curling up in a gold-robed ball of twitching gray fur. “UUUURRRRNNNHHH!"

“That's for all the hell you put us through!" Amaleen dusted her hands off, smiling. “I feel better now." She nudged Asterbury with her shoe. “You may join the party later, so long as you behave yourself. Or I'll do that again."

“Trust me, if he doesn't behave himself, there's gonna be a whole line of people lining up to do that to him." The Coyote laughed, swishing his beer around in his glass. “Just like in Airplane! You get that reference, Asterbury?"

“Nnnrrrruuugrrrgg!"

“Oh. Right." The Coyote fetched a red santa hat off a display, and dropped it onto Asterbury's face. “There ya go. Enjoy the party, buddy."

The Coyote went to the kitchen and refilled his beer. The sight of all his characters, laughing, having fun, and simply being happy made him smile. Deciding to take a little time for himself, The Coyote went into a nearby empty room, and plopped into a recliner. He had a perfect view of the Christmas tree, its lights shining, glorious and peaceful. He stared at it, sipped his beer, and smiled.

“No tears this year, Coyote?" Valyrym walked out into the same room.

“Nah. No tears." The Coyote smiled at his best fictional friend. “Think we all shed enough of those last year."

“You're probably right. Can I sit with you a while?"

“Of course." The Coyote scooted over, flicked his fingers, and the chair expanded.

Valyrym climbed up onto the chair, and settled next to The Coyote. He opened his wing, and stretched it across the canine. The Coyote smiled and snuggled up against the dragon's warmth. He sat in silence beneath his friend's comforting wing, staring at the beautiful lights, savoring the peace.

“I love ya, ya furry mongrel." Valyrym lowered his head, and gave The Coyote's ears a tender lick.

“I know. I love you too, buddy." The Coyote leaned his head against Valyrym's scales, closing his eyes.

“If you tell anyone I said that, I'll bite your little scavenger head off."

The Coyote smiled. “Everyone knows, you big softie. But just for you, I won't tell a soul."

“Thanks." Valyrym sighed and curled his neck to rest his head between The Coyote's ears. “We all love ya, you know."

The Coyote took a deep breath, and let it out in a long, happy sigh. “I know. Even when life is hardest…I know. It helps me get by.

“I'm glad. Merry Christmas, Coyote."

“Merry Christmas, Valyrym."

****

20.

With his work complete, and happiness in his heart, The Writer saved the story. He rose from his chair, glancing at himself. He smiled, for in that moment he was happy no matter what form he took, or what story he was in. It was Christmas Eve, and for once, he was finished early.

Humming Between the Buried and Me to himself, The Writer left his room, and went to wish his family a Merry Christmas.

Peace.

Joy.

Happiness.

May the snow always fall for you and yours.

******

Thus ends this year's tale. If you've enjoyed, please Fave, and leave a comment! Thank you for reading!