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A horrible, grating buzzing sound jarred The Coyote from his slumber. The sound repeated, an endless loop of grinding noise rattling his brain inside his skull. He flattened his ears back, trying to drown it out as he fumbled at the little wicker stand alongside his bed. His hand bumped the alarm clock, knocking it to the floor. The alarm kept buzzing.

“Damn it."

The Coyote forced himself to sit up, pushing the blankets away. The chilly air made him shiver, and left his gray and tan fur all fluffed up. At least he liked the cold. Never felt like Christmas unless it was cold. The canid shifted to sit on the edge of his bed, and leaned to pick up the clock. He flicked the alarm off, mercifully ending its torturous wail.

“Needle Day, wheee." The Coyote chuckled to himself as he eased up to his feet. He rubbed his eyes, scratched an ear, and stumbled towards the adjoining bathroom, leaving his glasses behind. “Least I getta have fun, tomorrow."

In the bathroom, The Coyote turned on the shower, and waited for the water to warm. He tilted his head. “I'm talking to myself more than usual. Picking up my characters' bad habits."

Once the water was hot, The Coyote got into the shower. He lathered up his fur from head to toes and tail, rinsed clean, and got back out. He didn't have the time to spend lazing about in the hot water, as pleasant as it was. After wrapping himself in a few towels, he returned to his bedroom. In the mirror, he looked bedraggled with all his damp fur slicked down, and covered only in slightly fraying towels.

“I look like a damn hobo."

Chuckling, The Coyote rubbed his fur as dry as he could get it in a short time. He dug out some clean clothes, including a pair of dark jeans, and a furry convention T-shirt. He had a few of them now, and he'd taken to wearing them on his many trips to the hospital. Whenever he was getting stuck with large needles again, it helped to be able to glance at his shirt, and be reminded that for every pain he endured, there was a greater joy waiting to be found.

With a smile on his muzzle, The Coyote packed up his backpack with a book, his headphones, and a phone charger. He never knew how long he was going to get stuck on these trips to get an IV, so he liked to have things to entertain himself. Granted, given his company today, he doubted he'd need them, but it never hurt to be prepared. When he was ready, the canine left his bedroom, and padded down the stairs.

“There's that mangy scavenger now!" A familiar, brassy voice called out from the front room. “I thought you'd gotten yourself trapped in a dumpster, somewhere."

“Shove it, Valyrym." The Coyote's grin belied his words as set his backpack down, ignoring the black dragon lounging in his living room.

“I never understood that expression." Valyrym thumped his spined tail against the carpet. “What am I supposed to be shoving?"

“Something foul, some place you don't want it." The Coyote waved at the dragon's hind end before he walked towards the kitchen. “And watch your damn tail, my parents just had that new carpet put in."

In the kitchen, a woman and a gryphon were arguing. The Coyote followed The woman had olive skin, curly black hair and was wearing a blue dress with white snowmen strewn across it. The gryphon was feathered in black from beak to tail, with silver highlights around his head, edging his wings, and his tail fan. Though the gryphon was several times the woman's size, she stood up to him, jabbing him in the beak with her finger. The Coyote caught only the end of their conversation.

“…So hard you never find them again!" The woman lifted her foot, waggling her black leather boot at the gryphon.

The gryphon backed away, tightening up his hind legs. “That would be a great loss for the entire world!"

“Krek, don't hassle Amaleen." The Coyote picked up the car keys off a hook in the wall.

“Me?" The gryphon drew himself up, feathers fluffed. “I'm the one being hassled! All I said was-"

“He's trying to drink all the egg nog!" Amaleen folded her arms, glaring at the black bird.

“No, I'm trying to drink Ayly's egg nog." The gryphon clicked his beak, then cocked his head. “No, wait, that sounds terrible of me. What I meant was-"

Amaleen jabbed him in the beak again. “Which is why I'm about to kick you-"

“Why the hell would you drink Ayly's egg nog?" The Coyote flipped the keys around a finger, his tail twitching. “She loves the stuff, you big poofy idiot."

“Exactly! And last year, Old Sleepy Sack-Scales out there let her wreck your poor house by drinking it all and going on a sugary rampage!" The gryphon waved his paw.

“Actually, I think that was two years ago." The Coyote scratched his muzzle. “Pretty sure that was in Pictures in the Snow, right before I had my first breakdown."

“Oh, like the order matters in these throwaway garbage stories." Krek thumped his tufted tail against a cabinet. “The point is, you've put me in charge of watching your house this year, and I-"

“He put both of us in charge." Amaleen flicked one of the gryphon's ears.

“Ow!" Krek rubbed his ear, wincing. “Why's everyone always picking on the poor gryphon?"

“Cause the poor gryphon's a stuffy, arrogant asshole."

Krek gave a sorrowful warble. “I think you mispronounced, lovable, humble hero." He ruffled up his feathers, glancing at the canine. “The point is, I'm drinking all that egg nog, so you can buy some sugar free eggnog, and we'll give that to Ayly. She'll be just as happy, never know the difference, and she won't run around breaking everything."

“That's not very Christmasy." The Coyote took a breath, and shook his head. “I'd appreciate the thought more if I didn't think you were just trying to get all the egg nog for yourself. Look, I gotta go. You can have some of the egg nog, but Amaleen, if he drinks more than half, kick him in the sugar plums."

Amaleen rubbed her hands together, beaming. “Can do. But I think you mean prunes, don't you?"

Krek glowered at her, huffing. “Everyone's so cruel to the poor, innocent gryphons in these stories. And…dare I ask, what are prunes?"

Amaleen only smirked at the gryphon. “They're like plums…only, they're all shrunken and withered. Just like your-"

“They are not withered!"

“Oh, but they are shrunken, aren't they? Or did they just start out that small and unimpressive?"

Laughing, The Coyote left them behind and returned to the front room. He fetched his backpack, and took a moment to admire the Christmas tree. Though their house was not yet fully decorated for Christmas, their tree was up and completely decked out in hundreds of unique ornaments. The Coyote loved that tree. Long before he was ever born, his mother started that tradition, deciding she wanted a tree where no two ornaments would ever be the same. It was impossible at first, unless she wanted a tree with only a dozen ornaments on it. But a few decades later, and they owned more decorations than they could even fit on the tree, and everyone one of them was different.

“Boop." The Coyote poked a green dragon ornament on its nose. It was his favorite, and each year he gave it a prominent position on the front of the tree.

“Ready to go, Scavenger?" Valyrym pushed himself up onto his paws, stretching. “Or do you have some other trash cans you need to loot, first?"

“I think you're confusing coyotes with raccoons."

“And I think you're confusing a verminous nuisance species with something respectable, like a wolf."

The Coyote whirled around, glaring at the dragon. “What did you call me?"

Valyrym tossed his head. “It's not my fault you've modeled yourself after something half your country considers a varmint."

“Varmint?" The Coyote blinked. “What are you, an 1800's rancher?" He pumped his fist in the air. “Yee haw, boys, I shot me up a passel'a'varmints! I betcha the general store'll gimme at least sixteen cents, that'll buy me and the boys'a rounda sasparilly!"

The dragon just stared down at him, golden eyes narrowed and blue-tipped spines flared. “Are you done?"

“Only because I'm gonna be late if I sit here bantering with you any longer." The Coyote laughed and turned away, heading for the door. He held it open and let the dragon squeeze through first. “But you keep making fun of my species, and I'm gonna take away your youth."

“Awww." Valyrym whined as he padded into the front yard. “You know how much I savor getting to feel young again in these Christmas stories!"

“Yup, so you better start treating me with a little more respect."

Valyrym cocked his head. “Since when have coyotes ever deserved any respect?"

The Coyote stared at Valyrym. Slowly, the indigo highlights that marked the black dragon's frills and wings began to fade. First they lightened to a paler blue, and then that shade gradually shifted to the color of old ash. Valyrym stumbled, shaking his head. His voice took on a hoarse, battered tone, almost a croak.

“Alright, alright, sorry! Stop making me old again!"

“Then say something nice about coyotes."

“Coyotes are admittedly adorable when they're all bushy-furred and pouncing things. And they don't always smell like trash."

The Coyote growled.

“Alright, alright, they don't ever smell like trash! At least you don't, and you're the only coyote I know. And, you've an adorable tail. Happy?"

The Coyote glanced back at his tail. It's thick, bushy fur was mostly shades of sandy tans, with grays layered in and hints of black peppering it. “Yes. I do." He flicked it. “We'll start with that." He snapped his fingers, reversing Valyrym's aging in an instant.

The old dragon gave a grateful sigh. “Thank you. Now. Where's Ayly?"

The Coyote walked to the car. He unlocked it, and tossed his backpack inside. “You're asking me? I thought you were watching her."

“I was. And she wanted to go outside, so I let her outside to wait for you."

“You let her outside?" The Coyote whirled around on the dragon, a moment of panic left his heart thudding against his sternum. “There's cars, and kidnappers and people with guns and-"

“And nothing is going to happen to her." Valyrym tossed his head. He reached for the passenger door on the car, but couldn't get a grip on the handle. “You said yourself she's perfectly safe in a Christmas story."

“Yeah, that's true. But you're still supposed to be watching her."

“Wait a minute." Valyrym stretched his neck, peering at the canine over the top of the blue vehicle. “Did you say kidnappers and people with guns? What manner of horrible neighborhood do you live in?"

“I may have been exaggerating about the kidnappers." The Coyote bristled, glancing around. “At least I hope I was." He took a breath, then called out. “Aylyyyyyy! It's time to goooooo!"

For a few seconds, there was no response. Then a loud, shrill squeal split the air. “WHHHHHEEEEEEEEE!"

The Coyote looked up just in time to see a black, purple and blue dragon hatchling launch herself from the edge of his home's roof. She hurtled through the air, straight towards him. “ACK!" He threw his hands up to try and catch her, and the little dragon slammed into his chest, knocking him off his feet. He landed on his back with a loud cough, and a hatchling standing atop him.

“Hi Coyote!" Ayly lapped at his face and muzzle, giggling. “I missed you!"

The Coyote laughed and coughed at the same time, trying to push her off of him. “I missed you too! But I just took a shower, Ayls, and I'm already late. Go get in the car with your grandfather."

Ayly turned her head, staring at the older dragon through the car windows. Then she lowered her head, whispering into The Coyote's ear. “Grandfather's old."

“Yeah," The Coyote said, laughing. “I know." He hoisted Ayly of his chest and set her down on the dry, brown grass. “Go get in the car."

As Ayly dashed off, The Coyote got back to his feet, dusting himself off best he could. He walked back to the car, watching as Valyrym fumbled with the handle. The dragon tried to grasp it several times in a row, but couldn't seem to get his digits around it. He snarled, unsheathing his claws to try again. This time all he managed was to scratch long lines in the paint, and create a horrible, screeching, nails-on-chalkboard sound. The Coyote clapped his hands over his ears.

“This damn thing!" Valyrym tried again, scratching the car door's paint in another direction. SCREECH.

“Grandfather said a swear!" Ayly swatted Valyrym's hind leg.

“Not now, Dear, I'm battling this mechanical monstrosity."

The Coyote padded around to the dragon. “No, Valyrym you gotta-"

“Like this?" Valyrym's claws scrabbled at the handle, scratching it up.

“No! You have to grab it, put your fingers in-"

“This way?" Valyrym twisted his paw around, cutting more twisting scratches around the door handle. “I can't get hold of it!"

“Are you even trying? You're dropping the car's value by the second, this door's gonna be a damn Picasso when you're done with it."

Valyrym paused, tapping a single claw tip against the door. Each tap added another little dot. “I don't know what that means."

“It means let me open the damn door for you!" The Coyote grabbed the handle, and popped the door open.

“Yes, you and your little paws do it just fine. But you what they say about people with little paws." Valyrym rumbled laughter as he climbed into the front seat. The car sagged to one side under his weight.

“You're just asking for a whole side story about your battles with incontinence." The Coyote returned to the driver's side, shaping the story just enough to let Valyrym fit into the car without any more trouble. He sat down, buckled his seat belt, and turned the car on. Ayly scrabbled in across her grandfather, and hopped into the back seat. “Everyone ready?"

“What do people say?" Ayly tilted her head.

“What?"

“Grandfather said people say things about people with little paws so what do people say about people with little paws?"

The Coyote flicked his ears back. “That hurt my brain."

Valyrym turned his head to gaze at his granddaughter. “They say people with little paws have a very small-"

“If you finish that sentence I will smack the old right out of you." The Coyote put the car in reverse, and backed out of the drive way.

Valyrym grunted. “Sense of humor."

“Coyote! Coyote!" Ayly stretched out and put her front paws on the back of his seat. “Coyote!"

“What, Ayly?"

“Grandfather's incontinent!"

The Coyote burst into barking laughter. “Oh he is, is he?"

“I am not!" Valyrym thumped his tail, shattering a cup holder. He glanced down at it, pinning his ears. “Oops."

The Coyote grit his teeth. “Can't we have one Christmas story where you don't break something in my car?"

“Who cares about your scavenger-mobile? What about my poor pride?" Valyrym crossed his forelegs over his plated chest. “I am not incontinent!" He twisted his head around to glance back at Ayly. “Where did you even learn that word?"

“From Coyote!" Ayly pointed at him with a purple paw. “Last year!"

“Oh yeah." The Coyote giggled, pulling up to a stop sign. “We had a conversation about-"

“Yes, yes, she kept getting the words wrong." Valyrym tossed his head, only to bump it against the ceiling. He scowled down at the canine. “You think you're very clever, don't you."

The Coyote smiled as he drove on. “I have my moments, anyway."

“Yes, your skill with wordplay really knocks your glasses off, doesn't it?"

“Shut up." The Coyote snorted, trying to hold back laughter. “Don't start that again. It's the last thing we need a callback to."

“Well, you're the one who said it." Valyrym turned his head, staring at the window. “Knocks your glasses off. That was the dumbest expression I ever heard."

“Yeah, yeah, enough already."

“You musta really been running on empty last year."

“Hey, that story had some great moments in it! That had to be the single most insane, imaginative, mind-bending Christmas adventure I've ever-"

“Now you're just verbally jerking-" Valyrym snapped his jaws shut, glancing at Ayly. “The…wheel…around."

“Yeah. Nice save." The Coyote drummed his fingers against the wheel at another stop sign, then continued.

As they drove, he gazed around at all the beautiful Christmas decorations going up. Some houses already had strings of bright, colorful lights on display all along their rooftops. Others had tree trunks wrapped in coiled of glowing beauty. Outside one house, an older lion was busy stringing up his own white lights around his garage. Soon they passed by rows of houses with inflatable santas and penguins bobbling around in their yards.

“I suppose I should ask, before we get to the hospital…" Valyrym rubbed a forepaw back and forth across the dashboard. “Have I anything to worry about this year, for good or ill?"

The Coyote shrugged. “Not that I know of."

“So, you're not going to have any…breakdowns? I'm not going to fall apart?"

“I sure hope not." The Coyote gave the dragon a smile. “I'm in a decent place this year, all things considered. And tomorrow I'm going to a furry con. A huge furry con."

“That sounds awkward."

“I'll be way too drunk for anything to feel awkward."

“Shocking." The dragon snorted, then tilted his head. “Wait, are you going as The Coyote, or as The Writer? And if you're going as The Coyote, does that mean everyone else is going to be some kind of…" He waved his paw. “Animal person? Are some of them going to wear funny looking human suits?"

“You're putting way too much thought into it."

“If you say so. I hope you enjoy yourself, either way." Valyrym patted the Coyote's shoulder.

“Thank you." The Coyote leaned his head over to give Valyrym's paw a nuzzle of gratitude.

“Anything else we need to worry about this year? What about that urd'thin from last year?" Valyrym curled his neck. “The one that caused so much trouble? Aster-"

“Don't say his name!" The Coyote squeezed the steering wheel.

“Why not?"

“Because he's always just…waiting for an excuse to say something like, 'you're so right, I will cause trouble'! You say his name out loud, and you're just asking for him to pop out and wreak havoc."

“He's not Beetlejuice, coyote. You don't say his name three times and suddenly he appears."

The Coyote only gave him a blank look.

“I mean…do you?"

The Coyote shrugged. “Let's not risk it. I haven't got near enough time to write another adventure anywhere near as long and epic as last years. I've really tight for writing space this year, got a few days before Christmas, and that's it. So, this year's tale has to be short. Which means there's no room for Aster-" He cut himself off. “Him. I'll invite him to the party, but-"

“Why the hell would you invite him to the party?!"

“Because half the reason he put us through hell last year is he didn't get invited, along with all my other old characters. So, from now on, everyone's invited. Good, bad, old, new. Besides." The Coyote pulled into a shopping center parking lot. “It's the right thing to do. Everyone deserves to have a day of peace and joy around Christmastime. Even villains."

“If you say so." Valyrym peered around the parking lot as the car came to a stop. “Where are we?"

“Starbooks."

“Don't you mean Starbucks?"

“I don't wanna get sued."

“Well, you said it before. And this one doesn't look familiar."

“Yeah, they moved." The Coyote unbuckled his seatbeat and popped his door open. “Now they have a drive through. Pisses me off cause they always give drive through priority, and I get stuck waiting for my drink for ages."

“Oooh, poor coyote and his first world problems!" Valyrym clasped his paws, cooing. “However will you have survive waiting an extra five minutes for his overpriced, moderate quality beverage? That's the real problem the UN needs to be focused on! Forget genocide, someone get this poor canine his coffee faster!"

The Coyote laughed, shaking his head as he stepped out of the car. “Alright, alright, that's enough out of you. How do you even know about that stuff? And Beetlejuice?"

“I watch TV! Now that you let me come here for a whole month, I get to see what's on all those channels. The other night, Ayly and I watched Beetlejuice together."

“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!" Ayly hopped up and down on the back seat, then looked around. “Where is he?"

“That's only a movie, Ayly."

“But I want Beetlejuuuuuice!"

“You really don't. He's not exactly a good dude. Come on, I'll get you an egg nog." He held the door open while Ayly scrambled out, glancing at the older dragon. “You want anything?"

“Coffee from somewhere that isn't a multinational corporation?"

“You know, I actually like coffee from local places better. The problem is, that for the money, Starbucks gives me a bigger size with more-"

“Just shut the door."

The Coyote slammed the door shut, and went inside. Ayly followed him into the store. Thankful there was no line, the Coyote went up to the corner. He ordered his favorite drink, then glanced down at the little dragon running in circles around his feet.

“Edd nod, Edd nod, edd nod!" Ayly ran around him again, bouncing. “Edd nod! I want edd nod! Edd nod, edd nod, edd nod."

“Egg nog." The Coyote pronounced it clearly. “Say it right, Ayly."

Ayly attacked his shoe instead, chewing on his laces.

“Uh…can I get a kids egg nog, too?"

The barista, a slender red fox with one ear dyed purple, tilted his head. “We don't usually do the egg nog separately."

Ayly tugged on the coyotes jeans. “Edd nod! I want a big edd nod!"

The Coyote scratched his head. “Can I get one anyway? Actually, make it a venti. Just…a venti egg nog."

The fox shrugged. “Whatever you want dude."

“Beetlejuice!"

“What, Ayly?"

“I want a big beetlejuice, too!"

“That's not…" The Coyote rubbed his muzzle. “Nevermind. Can you put the name on it as Beetlejuice?"

The fox gave him a blank look, his purple-dyed ear flattened back. “Do I have to put it three times?"

“Once is fine." The Coyote paid, and went to the bar area to wait for his coffee. He sat in a stool, and pulled out his phone, checking messages and chat sessions.

“I got, uh…iced mocha and…uh…egg nog for…Bizzlejess?" A tired looking wolf set a few drinks on the counter. He squinted at the name. “Bubblejump? Bigglesworth? Bumperjew? Beiberjizz?"

The Coyote flattened his ears back, reaching for the drinks. “We're gonna stop there, before you say something that gets me in trouble. Come on, Ayly."

The two of them returned to the car, and The Coyote let Ayly in first. He got in after her, and passed her back her egg nog. “Okay, hold it carefully. Use both paws to keep hold of it, so it doesn't spill."

Ayly reached for the cup in both forepaws, only to immediately drop it. It burst open against the floorboards, dumping egg nog everywhere. Ayly gasped. “I pilled my edd nod!"

The Coyote heaved a sigh, banging his head against the steering wheel a few times.

“Oh, I think we all saw that one coming." Valyrym smiled, patting The Coyote's back. “Look on the bright side. You like egg nog, so surely you'll enjoy having a car that's going to smell like it forever! Or…at least for a day or two. Then it's going to rot and smell like Santa himself vomited in here after a party with Martha Stewart."

The Coyote slowly lifted his head, giving the dragon a baffled look. “You really have been watching too much TV."

“Coyoteeeee!" Ayly whined, pawing in the air towards the spilled egg nog. “I wants edd nod!"

“I told you to hold it…" He trailed off, sighing. “You know what? Nevermind. I can fix this."

“Do your conquer nudity!" Ayly giggled and clapped her paws.

“That's not…the word is continuity, Ayly, we had this discussion last year. But it's not the continuity that fixes things, it's the Christmas magic." The Coyote flicked his fingers at Ayly, and a little red santa hat with a white fuzz ball at its top appeared on her head. “The continuity just means I can still use the magic that was established in previous stories."

“Yes, that's what people read these stories for." Valyrym swished his paw around. “Explanations of words and concepts."

“Why don't you stick one of those tail spines where the sun don't shine?"

“That's a terrible expression." Valyrym flicked a claw out. “For one, the grammar's wrong." He flicked another claw out. “For two, what does that even mean? If I lay on my back, then the sun does shine there. But what if it's night time? Then the sun's not shining anywhere. You should really-MMMMFFF!"

A green wreath with red ribbons appeared around the dragon's muzzle, holding it shut. Smiling, The Coyote waved his hand at the backseat. All the spilled egg nog vanished, and the cup righted itself. It floated up and settled into a cup holder. Then silver tinsel and strings of Christmas lights spilled out from the seatback pockets, wrapping around the cup to hold it in place. A small tarp unfolded beneath it, protecting the floor.

“There, Ayly. Now you can lap egg nog till your heart's content."

“Yay!" Ayly clapped her paws, giggling. “Magic egg nog time!"

Valyrym wrenched the wreath off of his snout. “That's another expression that makes no sense."

“I don't think 'magic egg nog time' is an expression." The Coyote fought back a smile. “But maybe it should be."

“Yeah, it'll be right up there with, 'really knocks your glasses off'." He snapped his jaws. “Weren't you complaining about being late a little while ago?"

“Oh, shit!" The Coyote glanced at the clock. “I'm supposed to be there in ten minutes."

“How far away is this new hospital?"

“Almost an hour. Less if traffic's not bad, but-"

“Coyote said a swear!" Ayly lifted her head. Egg nog dribbled from the pebbly scales of her purple-tipped muzzle. “I wanna say a swear too!"

“Oh no, we're not playing that game again." The Coyote rubbed his hands together. “Alright, everyone hold on. I'm gonna have to magic us over there."

“Maybe you should just magic us to the end of this story, and we can all enjoy the party and call it done."

The Coyote smirked at the old dragon. “If I run out of time, I might do exactly that. But for now…" He crackled his knuckles, then waggled his fingers. “Bippity boppity-"

“No." Valyrym snorted, glaring at him.

“What?"

“I refuse to be party to any story in which you use those particular magic words."

“Would you rather I said…iggy biggy bing bang sheboing whoop whoop-"

“I'd rather you shut the hell up and just get us there."

“Fiiiiine." The Coyote muttered something about old dragons taking all the fun out of everything. He reached towards the car's ceiling, and pinched his thumb and finger together as if grabbing the corner of a book's page. Then he pulled the corner down, folding all of existence in on itself for a split second. Everything sprang back into place, and suddenly their vehicle sat in the valet parking line of a massive hospital complex. Several cheetahs in pale green valet jackets hustled from car to car. “There. Happy?"

Valyrym clutched his belly with a paw. “No. I think you forgot to bring my stomach." He gazed through a window, hissing. “What is this, Valet? Aren't you a fancy scavenger. Shall I fetch you a monocle for your next trash can inspection?"

“It's only five bucks, Val. And the self parking lot is way the hell over there." He pointed across the street, to where a monstrous parking garage sat a block away. “When it gets to over 100 degrees out, the last thing you want to do is walk outside. That garage was actually built for the new hospital." He pointed to the expansive, modern glass building. “That's it over there. It's really nice inside, but when it opened, all the outpatient stuff got moved to the old hospital. So it's…a little run down in here."

When the valet arrived, The Coyote got out of the car, and thanked him. He shouldered his backpack, and made his way towards the front of the hospital building. The place was crowded, as always, with dozens of people waiting outside, and far more of them inside. He led the dragons past a dimly lit but massive pharmacy area, with numbers called out one at a time for all the people waiting. Several tables along one side of the entryway were staffed with people passing out a variety of brochures. Another person was passing out cards with information on the dangerous of antibiotics, and spouting vague conspiracy theories about hospitals. Nearby, a group of police officers were keeping watch on him, and the rest of the area.

Pushing through the crowds, The Coyote reached the elevator bank and hit the UP button. He glanced at the numbers above the elevator doors, indicating which of the ten floors the elevators were on. A few numbers didn't light up above some elevators, anymore. When the elevator arrived, he waited for the group of people inside to get off, then went in and hit the button for his floor. He shaped the story just enough for Ayly and Valyrym to fit inside with him. The doors closed, and the elevator ascended.

“Not as cheery as your last hospital, is it?" Valyrym shifted his weight. “Or as…modern, I suppose. I see what you mean. This place feels far more crowded and run down."

“That's because it is." The Coyote shrugged. “Like I said before, this is the old hospital building. Now it serves all their outpatients. That's people who can leave the same day they're admitted. Also, this is a county hospital, which means they have to treat everyone regardless of insurance. So all the uninsured people come here when they need help."

“But I thought you had insurance?"

“I do. But it's…" The Coyote scowled, glancing at his hands. He willed himself to remain The Coyote, to keep Ayly and Valyrym there with him. “It's complicated. If I get to far into it, I'm going to get a little depressed, and then you're both going to vanish."

“Oh." Valyrym rustled his wings, bumping the elevator buttons and pressing most of them. “Sorry about that."

“The long and short of it is, the hospital where my main doctor works decided that they didn't get enough money from my insurance to be worth the risk of ordering this insanely expensive medication every two weeks. So they stopped." The Coyote bared his fangs. “Of course, they never told us that in those terms. They just…well, it was never there when it was supposed to be. And my doctor, and the nurses couldn't figure out why, at first. He kept ordering it for me, and it just never arrived. Hospital stonewalled on it, and we were only ever able to get a few more, sort of, emergency doses. So, we tried to set up a home infusion thing, and ran into another snag. Insurance authorizes home nursing for infusions." The Coyote tapped the inside of his arm, ruffling the fur. “This medication can only be given via intravenous infusion, so I have to get it with a needle in a vein. Every two weeks. Or I start having problems. So anyway, I got it at home, twice…and then suddenly…the home care people can't get the medication ordered, either!" He shook his head, growling.

“That's terrible…" The doors opened and Valyrym glanced through. “Is…this our floor?"

“Oh, yeah."

The Coyote padded into the large waiting room. Compared to the old one with its wood paneling and recessed lighting, this room's bare walls and fluorescent lighting was far more old and run-down looking, like a generic hospital waiting room for the seventies. But they had two Christmas Trees up for the holidays, a large one near the check in area, and a smaller one with glowing lights atop the counter. They made the Coyote smile, and eased a little of his pre-IV anxiety. He made his way to the line waiting to check in, and took his place.

“So anyway, we go weeks without me getting my meds again, until we finally find out that…some obscure provision in the insurance's rules says…that this particular medication can only be given in a health care setting. So while they're willing to pay for home infusions, and they're willing to pay for this medication, they're not willing to pay for this medication to be given at home!"

“That's retarded!"

The Coyote barked laughter, moving up in line. “Not a nice way to put it, but you're right. Meanwhile, my hospital won't order it, because as we later found out from various sources, they just weren't making enough profit to justify the risk of such a pricy medicine so often. It wasn't just me, they had a few other patients getting it, too. And they had a new financial admin officer, and the first thing he did was crack down on hyper expensive medications. Which basically left us in the lurch."

“Tell me who this person is, so I can devour him for you."

“You aren't the first to offer. So, we heard that another hospital actually had a program for this medication." He waved his hand at the place around them. “This one. And that they had more specialists in this disease. Meanwhile, I was getting…" He scrunched his muzzle. “Really sick, really fast. Like, scary sick."

***

At this point, The Writer stops writing and instead, runs outside. He grins like the sappy idiot he is as an ambulance, firetruck, and police car all slowly drive by with their lights on, blaring Christmas music. A man dressed as Santa sits atop the firetruck, waving to everyone who comes out to see him.

The Writer waves back.

It's never Christmastime until Santa drives by.

Happy, he goes back inside, and has a shot of rare, rye whiskey.

He returns to his computer, to write for another hour.

***

Valyrym shuddered, his scales clicking. “That's wretched. What happened?"

“Ended up in the ER, getting my liver CT scanned." The Coyote scrunched up his muzzle, flattening back his ears. “When I knew I had to go in, we picked this hospital's ER, because we'd learned about their program for my medication. Only, as it turns out, because of the cost…The hospital won't let their ER docs administer it. So, they got in touch with their hematology team…" When Valyrym gave him a blank stare, he patted the dragon's nose. “Blood doctors, Val. And they got me appointments and stuff set up to go and see them, and get into their program, and then they offered to admit me to the hospital. Which is what I expected to happen in the first place. But since the hospital was totally full, I was going to have to spend the night in the ER bed, instead." He pinned his ears back, shaking his head and growling. He glanced at Ayly, and when she was occupied with stalking the Christmas Tree, he whispered to Valyrym. “It was a serious clusterfuck. But, in the end, it got me into a place that gets me my medicine on time, in a stable situation. At least for now."

“Well that's great, right?" Valyrym smiled, ruffling up The Coyote's fur. The Coyote laughed and wriggled away, and Valyrym's smile faded. “What do you mean, for now?"

The Coyote shrugged. “Well, let's just say the incoming president, and his party, don't exactly inspire a lot of in confidence in me, as to my ability to continue to get health care. The way they talk about it, they're more concerned with party politics than they are with people's lives, and a lot of the changes they say they're going to make terrify people like me. Who rely on specific portions of health care laws to stay alive. Literally." He snapped his teeth, shaking his head. “They're real gung ho on repealing things that include stipulations that say I cannot be denied for pre-existing conditions. If they take that way, or say, if they start stripping things out, but negotiate for a year on what to replace them with? I can't wait a year. I need this stuff every two weeks. Period. So who knows what happens to me next. Anyway…I'd rather be optimistic than pessimistic, but sometimes it's hard."

Valyrym lowered his head and gave The Coyote's ears a sloppy lick. “We're here for you, Coyote. And look, you've still got your fur and your tail and everything, after all telling me all that."

“Yeah, yeah, quit droolin' on me." The Coyote laughed and shoved the dragon's muzzle away. “I told you before, I'm making a concerted effort to stay The Coyote this year. And now that we've got my difficult, real life update in place, we can move onto Christmas insanity, eh?"

“Oh joy." Valyrym snorted. “I think you enjoy that more than I do."

“Probably. Anyway, for now, I've been getting medication on a regular basis, and with any luck, that will continue as long as it has to." He waved his hand. “That was all back in the spring, anyway. I've had a good run since then, and aside from my fears about next year, and what this new administration might do, I'm in a good place, mentally and emotionally. At least by my admittedly small standards."

“Next in line, booth four!"

The Coyote perked his ears. “Oh, that's me. You two go find a seat in the waiting area, and don't let Ayly get in any trouble."

As Valyrym wandered into the waiting area, The Coyote went to the booth. He sat down and handed over his ID, then chatted with the older tigress busy manning the computer. She buttoned a wristband around his wrist, and he made his way back to find Valyrym. The dragon had squeezed himself up alongside a row of seats, keeping watch on Ayly. The hatchling busied herself hopping from empty seat to empty seat. When she came to a person, she made a game of trying to hop over them. Usually that got someone kicked in the heat, or climbed on like furniture.

The door to the lab opened, and befuddled looking old raccoon stared at the blood draw ID tags. “Ah…This just says…The Coyote? Someone named…The Coyote."

“That's me." He popped up and padded over.

The raccoon recognized him, and gave him a friendly smile. “Oh, hello there Mister-"

“Eh eh eh, let's not use real names, huh? Christmas story."

“What?" The Raccoon scratched his ear. “Well, have a seat, anyway."

The Coyote slipped into the tiny lab room. Inside, they had three phlebotomists, each with their own little desk and blood draw chair. Stacks of vials, tubes, butterfly needles, paperwork, swabs, tourniquets, and a thousand other things were crammed in tight but neat rows all across the desks and counters. Strange machinery churned behind them, spinning and analyzing tubes of blood all day long.

He plopped down into the raccoon's chair, and made small talk while the raccoon got ready to draw his blood. The Raccoon tapped the inside of the coyote's arm, at the crook of his elbow, looking for a vein. When he found one, he pushed the fur aside, and The Coyote looked away. There was a time, once, when he used to always watch. That time had come and gone, and these days, he was more comfortable looking away at least until the blood was flowing.

The needle's sharp sting made him flatten his ears and grimace. Some days it hurt more than others. Years of blood draws and IVs left him with a growing amount of scar tissue around some of his veins. When it was done, the raccoon put a gauze pad against the tiny wound, and wrapped a pressure bandage around it to hold it in place.

“Merry Christmas, Mister Coyote."

That made him smile. “Thanks! Merry Christmas to you, too."

The Coyote left the lab area just in time to see Ayly hunkering down against the chair nearest the large Christmas tree in the waiting room. She waggled her haunches, glaring up at the angel topping the tree. She growled at the angel, and wiggled again.

“Ayly, don't you dare!"

Ayly did. The little hatchling leapt off the chair and onto the highest reaches of the clinic's Christmas tree. It wobbled back and forth, ornaments rattled and dropped from its boughs, bouncing off fake presents sitting below. Then the whole tree pitched over, toppling to the ground, with Ayly clinging to the top of it.

“Wheeeeeeee, Chrimmas Tree ride!"

When the tree hit the floor, ornaments scattered in all directions. Startled people jumped out of their seats. Present boxes flattened out beneath the combined weight of hatchling and Christmas tree. Ayly vanished inside the explosion of green boughs and faux needles. She popped out a few moments later with the angel in her teeth, and trotted right up to The Coyote's feet. She spat the angel onto his shoes, beaming up at him.

“Look! I found a angel!"

“That's…an angel, Ayly, and-"

“That's what I said!" Ayly stomped her blue and purple forepaws. “I found a angel!"

“Man, you best git me up offa diss floor for I knock yo' teeth out."

The Coyote blinked. “Oh, no, we're not doing that ghetto angel bit this year. We did that last year." He nudged the angel aside with his shoe.

“Git yo' stank-ass feet offa me, foo'!"

With a groan, The Coyote pinched the bridge of his muzzle, just behind his glasses. He shoved the loudmouth angel under the nearest chair, and then fetched his backpack. “Let's just go back there before security comes looking for us."

Without waiting for a reply, The Coyote led the way back to the infusion center. Normally he had to wait to be called, but it was his Christmas story, and he could do what he wanted. He knew the story was already well over its word budget, and shook his head, wondering why he always rambled on so long. Why, he expected this section to be completed in a few thousand words, and here he was, some seven thousand words later, only now nearing the end of it.

In the infusion center, they took all his vitals. They weighed him, took his blood pressure, his temperature, his pulse rate, his oxygen levels, and all the other little things he was long since used to. The nursing staff was nice here, he hadn't yet met any nurses in this hospital he didn't like. When they were ready, they took him to an infusion chair, and once more put a tourniquet around arm. Putting the IV needle in made him bare his fangs and tense up, but thankfully they got it in the first stick, and after that, the pain was quick to fade.

“Why's there a needle in your arm?" Ayly peered up at him from the visitor's chair.

“To give me medicine."

“Does it hurt?"

“A little bit."

“Does grandfather need one?"

The Coyote blinked and glanced at Valyrym. “Why would he need one?"

Ayly lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Cause he's old and has pee pee problems."

A grin spread over The Coyote's muzzle. “So you think Valyrym needs an IV to help with his incontinence?"

Ayly gave a single, solemn nod.

“I am not incontinent!" Valyrym slapped a forepaw against the ground.

The nurse came to check on The Coyote, and glanced at the old dragon. “Incontience is common in older patients. There's some medications I could-"

“For the last time! I do not have incontinence! I do…however…suddenly have to pee. Where's the restroom?" When the nurse pointed, Valyrym glanced at The Coyote. “Could you…yanno. Magic it into being dragon appropriate?"

The Coyote did just that, and Valyrym padded off. He scrunched his muzzle. “That was weird."

Ayly turned her head up to gaze at the nurse. “My grandfather has pee pee problems because he's old."

“I'll get you some brochures." The nurse patted The Coyote's arm, before she wandered off again.

Valyrym soon returned, around the same time as the nurse. She handed the brochures to The Coyote, speaking loudly enough for the old dragon to hear as well. “These are all about incontinence in older patients. And these ones here are details on a variety of adult diapers, some of which are suitable for elderly dragons."

“I am not elderly, and I am certainly not incontinent! I-" An odd, cross-eyed look hit Valyrym's face mid-rant. Without another word, he turned and hurried off to the restroom again.

“Poor old thing has dementia too, doesn't he." The nurse clucked her tongue.

The Coyote scratched his ear, glancing up at the IV bag to see how far along he was. Halfway there. “That's not like Valyrym. I mean…the irritability and denial is classic Valyrym, but not the actual incontinence."

The next time Valyrym returned, he didn't even make it all the way into the infusion center before he whirled around and gallopsed back down the hall, whining the whole time. “Outta the way! Incontinent dragon coming through! Ack, I'm peeeeing! All over the hall! Oh, Gods, why can't I stop peeing!"

“Okay, now I know something's wrong!" The Coyote sat up, trying to fight off his laughter with a growl. “I think someone's screwing with him."

Ayly clambered from chair to chair. “Is it Asterbury?"

“Ayls! You're not supposed to say his name. But…no." He shook his head. “He'd do something a lot more insidious like…actually I don't want to say, cause then he might do it. This seems far too juvenile, even for him. This is probably the work of someone far more regal, and majestic." He rubbed his muzzle in thought. “No doubt, someone ferociously handsome, brave and courageous, someone who is the true hero of the story yet never gets enough credit, who….Goddamn it, it's Krek."

Ayly gasped, clapping her paws to her muzzle. “Lellumgurb's a bad guy?!"

“Not exactly. He just thinks he's funny and likes playing pranks on your grandfather and I. It's not like this the first time he's plopped himself down at my computer to mess with us." The Coyote fetched his phone, waving it. “Last time it was more obvious. Whole story was suddenly full of spelling errors, and a bunch of godawful adverbs. This time he's just giving your grandfather bladder issues. I might not have guessed it was him, but he just couldn't resist trying to make me compliment him. But it's okay. I've got Amaleen to handle his little prank for me." He pulled messaging on his phone, and started texting Amaleen. “I gave her a phone this time around, in case we have any other problems like last year."

Hey, it's Coyote. Pretty sure Krek is dicking around on my story, trying to make Valyrym piss himself. Which…actually is sorta funny. But, go put a stop to it anyway, won't you? Thanks.

“That oughta do it."

***

Amaleen set her phone down on the counter, scowling. Trust a gryphon to make trouble. First, he tried to weasel his way into drinking everyone's egg nog, now he was making life difficult for her dear Valyrym? As if that poor old dragon didn't have enough to deal with in his life without having to worry about pissing himself. She blinked and giggled, just a little. Alright, so the mental imagine was a funny one. But this was Valyrym's only chance to get to visit with his granddaughter and just enjoy his life again, the way he did when he was young. She'd be damned if she was going to let Krek ruin that for him.

She slipped up the stairs, and made her way down the hall towards The Coyote's room. The door was ajar, and through the opening, she saw the gryphon sitting in front of The Coyote's computer. She grit her teeth, watching Krek tap a few keys with his claw tips. His silver crown feathers were all displayed around his head, his ears splayed back in gryphon smugness. Ooooh, he just thought he was so clever.

“Krek!" Amaleen shoved the door open. She startled the gryphon and made him jump up onto all four paws, his green eyes wide within his black-feathered face. “What the hell do you think you're doing?"

“I…uh…just making a few improvements, my dear, and-"

“I'm not your dear!" Amaleen glowered at the gryphon, hands on her hips. “And I rather doubt Her Majesty would approve of you fiddling about with The Coyote's story! And I doubly doubt that you're doing anything that offers the least bit of improvement."

“Well…perhaps I'll just-"

“Furthermore, we're supposed to be keeping watch over The Coyote's house! You've got to help me be vigilant in case that wretched little urd'thin stops by to cause trouble again." She waggled a finger at the gryphon. “In which case, we are to notify him immediately. Now got off that computer this instant!"

“Oh, very well…" Krek turned away from her, lifting a paw to tap a few more keys. “Just…let me finish this last bit here…"

“Oh, no!" As soon as the gryphon turned his haunches towards her, Amaleen strode forward. She lashed out with her hand and snatched the gryphon's furry testicles in her grasp, yanking them backwards. Krek gave a pained squawk, and Amaleen tightened her grip till she felt the plump orbs pressing against each other. “You fix everything you did this instant, or my grip only gets tighter!"

“Awwk! Awwrrrkkk!" Krek twisted and squirmed a little, his eyes crossing, crown feathers splayed. “Not…so…tight!"

With a grunt, Amaleen squeezed Krek's balls tightly.

“ARRAAAWWWKK!" The gryphon's emerald eyes bulged out , his beak gaped open and his limbs all wobbled. His voice rose a few octaves. “Okay! Okay! Ill fix it! Let go!"

“After it's fixed."

Krek set a trembling paw over the keyboard, groaning. “Ooooooh!" He tapped a few keys, then shuddered and gasped. “My…royal jewels!"

“There's nothing royal about your jewels." Amaleen gazed down at them, observing the black furred glands as they compressed against one another inside her hand. “Just because your lover is a queen does not give these any greater value." She shifted her grip, smirking. “Thought they'd be bigger."

“Funny!" Krek's voice was little more than a squeak now. “Very…funny!" He tapped a few more keys, moved the mouse with shaking paw, and then tapped the keyboard again. “Th-there! I undid…the changes! Now let go!"

“Hmm…I think I need to make sure you've learned your lesson, on behalf of The Coyote, and Her Majesty, and everyone else you drive crazy. Besides, The Coyote had a reader's request. Now…" She shifted the gryphon's captive testicles around her hand, humming to herself. “Now…what was it Valyrym said he was going to do to you last DitD? Oh, I remember! Squeeze your balls until you sang like the Queen's Choir! Well, he never got a chance to do that, but let's see if I can't get a memorable song out of you while I've got the chance!"

“Amaleen, you don't have to-"

Amaleen clamped down on the black gryphon's testicles as hard as she could, and Krek sang.

“AAAAAAAAWWWWWWWHHH!"

***

The Coyote scrunched up his muzzle, glancing at the scrolling text of the story on his phone. “Oooooooh. That oughta teach him not to mess with my story." He set the phone down, glancing up at the old dragon who once more sat nearby. “You feeling better, buddy?"

“Yes, my poor bladder doesn't feel like it's about to burst, anymore. If I catch that stupid gryphon…" He flared his wings, brushing aside the curtains separating some of the infusion areas. In another chair, a startled fox gave a shrill scream, a dragon's wing suddenly bearing down on him. Valyrym yanked his wing back, and sheepishly drew the curtain again. “Sorry about that."

“You should be." The Coyote chuckled as a plethora of nurses rushed to see what the fox next door was screaming about. “Anyway, Amaleen's got Krek…" A smirk spread over his muzzle. “Handled."

Valyrym tilted his head. “What does that mean?"

“You know, because she's…"

“You're the only one reading the story, Mutt."

“Oh, right." He shook his head. “Nevermind. Suffice to say, I don't think Kathlyn will have to worry about Krek fathering any illegitimate fledglings while he's out there on his spy missions anytime soon."

“Oooooh." Valyrym held out a paw and made a fist. “Because she's…handled him? Yes, now I get it. And if he wasn't such an egotistic smarmbird, I'd probably pity him. But he is, so I don't." The dragon inclined his muzzle towards the IV pole. “I think your magic juice is almost done."

“Good!" The Coyote glanced up. The bag was just about empty, and a moment later, the infusion pump started beeping. “Yup! Just gotta wait for them to pull out the needle and we can go."

Valyrym pumped his paw in the air, grinning. “And what a story it was this year, all about coyote getting needles in him."

“Hey, I told you, I was running out of time." The Coyote laughed, giving the nurse a grateful nod and smile when she came to turn off the machine. “Besides, I started this weird tradition a few stories ago where I include my real life into them. But…yanno, after I get back from the con, I'm going to write the rest of the story."

“Probably the day or two before Christmas, knowing you."

“I told you, I'm really busy with other writing projects this month." The Coyote grimaced when the nurse pulled off the tape and dressing holding the needle in place. It yanked on his fur, and he grit his teeth, but soon she was bandaging him up. “One in particular I have to focus on."

“Yes, your precious secret project." Valyrym waved his paws around. “So secret it doesn't even have a name."

“It has a name." The Coyote thanked the nurse, put his discharge papers into his backpack, and then led Valyrym and Ayly back out towards the elevator. “I just don't want to say it publically until it's a done deal. Don't want to jinx it. But I may post the other one after this, so people can read it."

“Yes, and won't they be thrilled by…" He ran his paw through the air as if indicating a giant banner. “A short story."

“Maybe not thrilled, but…hopefully they enjoy it." He hit the DOWN button and waited for the elevator, then piled in along with the two dragons. “But the other one, the one that might be working out…it's got a deadline, and that's coming up real fast so…"

“Yes, yes. I do understand the concept of priorities. Hopefully you have some concept of where you'd like the rest of this story to go, after you're back from your Awkward Adventure With Awkward People."

“Furry cons aren't that awkward."

“They will be when there's 7,000 of them all crammed into one place. Better bring something to plug your nose with."

The Coyote laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, that's a terrible stereotype. Just…stay out of the Gaming Room." He scrunched his muzzle. “Honestly, furry cons are just like any other big nerdy fandom gathering. They're like anime cons or sci fi and comic cons, but with more fursuits and less anime or super hero cosplay."

When the elevator came to a stop, The Coyote exited, then held the door for Valyrym and Ayly. Once they were out, he kept holding it until the next group of people piled in. Then he led his friends back outside, paid the valet fee, and waited for his car. He tipped the driver, slipped inside, and started the trek home.

“Now, Valyrym, you have to keep watch on Ayly while I'm away. And, you have to help Amaleen and Krek take care of the house while I'm away, too."

“Isn't that usually something your parents would do?"

“For The Writer? Yes. For The Coyote?" He glanced over at the dragon, scowling. “Why do you gotta make everything so difficult?"

Valyrym shrugged his wings. A wing tip talon gouged the car's ceiling. “These are your crazy rules your insane Christmas stories have assembled. I didn't have anything to do with them." He set a paw on The Coyote's shoulder. “But don't worry. We'll take good care of the place, I promise. And I really do hope you have a wonderful time, to get rid of all that pent up stress."

“Thank you, Valyrym." The Coyote gave the dragon a warm smile.

“You're welcome, Coyote." Valyrym squeezed his shoulder, then pulled his paw back. He turned his head away, gazed out the window, and smirk spread over his muzzle. “I hope it really knocks your glasses off."

“Oh, shut the fuck up."

***

For a long, glorious weekend, The Coyote celebrates being alive at one of the largest furry conventions in existence. He loves it from the very beginning. The airport is decked out in beautiful holiday decorations, doves made of Christmas lights, gigantic presents, ribbons stretched down the length of the terminal, and bows, wreaths, and Christmas trees everywhere. He takes pictures, and meets up with his roommates, a gryphon and a dragon, some of his best friends.

Even in the airport, there are dozens of con-goers carrying fursuit heads. The Coyote gets a little giddy.

Outside, the air is bitingly cold.

He loves it.

Ears perk.

Tail wags.

Feels like Christmas.

They get food, drink local craft beer, and head to the convention.

There are more fursuiters than he's ever seen. He's been to a few cons, by now, and he loves them all. Decided this year, that someday, if health and finances allows, he wants fursuit. But he's never seen anything like this. A never-ending cavalcade of fursuited insanity. There must be thousands of suiters, alone. Everywhere he looks, all day, and all night, the place us bustling with all manner of costumed magic.

Everywhere, there are Christmas decorations. They're in every hotel, they're on every street corner, and they're lining the roads. Sometimes, they're even built into costumes and fursuits. At night, all the many shining colors of Christmas lights decorate almost every tree and bush in the area. There's Christmas beauty everywhere he looks, and for a little while, all is right with the world.

Every day and every night is something new. The carnival goes on, and everywhere he turns, something new is happening. For a little while, he feels like he belongs, completely and totally, to this strange, wonderful world.

He meets up with friends old and new, puts faces to names for the first time, sees other faces he's not seen in far too long. Hugs and beer and food, all around.

One night, he watches his beloved Cowboys win another game. They're fantastic again this year, even fielding two rookies. He watches the game from the con hotel bar, alternating between fixation on the TV, talking with friends old and new, and watching all the suiters go by.

Another night, they order deep dish pizza from one of the best known local places. It takes two hours to arrive, and The Coyote gets cranky. But it's alright. When it finally shows up, its delicious. After they've eaten, it's back to the con, where he meets another new friend in the bar, and later, gets an invite to an old friend's room party.

They drink and party and laugh and joke until its far too late at night. Someone brought giant inflatable animals to the party. Because furry con. Everyone gets good and drunk, laughs till they almost fall over, and finally stumbles home to their own rooms, and their own hotels, happy as can be.

The night after, he goes to craft beer tasting party. He has one of those at his home con, too, where he helps to host it. Some of the same people are here, and its always good to see them. They talk the finer points of craft beer, at first, talk about the differences between ale and lager, top and bottom fermentation. Then they get really drunk and just laugh at everything. All the greatest secrets of Black Collar and DitD get spilled, to one reader who wanted to know everything. That reader spends the rest of the convention flipping him off.

The Coyote smiles.

On the last full day of the con, it snows, and The Coyote is at peace.

It's snowing.

Ears up.

Tail wags.

It snows all day long, and in his head, The Coyote paints his pictures in the snow. Peace settles across him for the entire day. It snows and snows, and he walks in it with some of his best friends. He laughs when the gryphon and the dragon have a snowball fight. Bystanders join in. No one wins, but everyone is happy. He takes more pictures and videos than he can count, so he'll never forget it.

Fursuiters frolic in the snow.

Everyone is happy.

Everything is joy.

The snow gets deeper all day long.

By the time the snow winds down, late in the evening, they all go to a German resturaunt. The Coyote watches and laughs as fursuiters dance in front of the whole crowd. It's mostly con-goers, but even the locals seem to love it. Some of the fursuiters get paddled by the waitresses while the crowd laughs and cheers. He likes that.

They trudge through the cold and the snow back to the convention, to people watch until the late hours, until at last, they have to return to their own hotel, because they have to go home in the morning. He stays up late, anyway, chatting with the dragon and the gryphon. And when the dragon goes to bed, he stays up even later hanging out with the gryphon until they're both too tired to keep chatting.

It's been a good con.

A wonderful con.

But all good things…

When morning rolls around, he says his goodbyes, tries not to cry, and takes the shuttle back to the airport. He's sad. He's always sad after a con, but he's not that sad. He looks back on the weekend, looks through his pictures, and smiles, happy just to have been there.

No joy without sorrow.

No sorrow without joy.

Aboard a plane, The Coyote leans his head against the window, and watches the snowy city fade away.

The Coyote smiles.

***

When The Coyote got home that night, the house was fully decorated for Christmas. More snowmen than he could ever count adorned almost every visible surface. They gathered together on tables, perched on shelves, and adorned gently glowing displays hung on walls. A wide green wreath decked out with velvety red ribbons and pine cones sat upon the front door. A few neatly wrapped presents with snowflakes scattered across their paper sat beneath the tree. Jars of candy and chocolates sat on end tables. A new advent calendar hung prominently from a wall near the entryway.

He dragged his suitcase in, and set his backpack down atop it, gazing around. “Ooooh. Mom and dad really outdid themselves. This place looks great."

“What do you mean, mom and dad?" Valyrym padded in front the kitchen, licking eggnog off his muzzle. “I did all the hardwork, along with Amaleen! And Ayly supervised. Krek just sat on his feathery ass and looked smug."

“I believe that last part, but not the rest of it." The Coyote laughed and hugged the dragon around the neck.

Rumbling, Valyrym returned The Coyote's hug, rubbing his back through his gray hoodie. “Good to see you, my fuzzy, scavenging friend."

“You too, Val."

“I suppose you may be right about most of it. Your parents did do all the hard work." The dragon looked around the house, his spined tail dragging across the entryway's tile. “Actually, they did all the work, while the rest of us just had a good time enjoying the fruits of your imagination."

“Yeah, I saw that egg nog on your nose when you came out of the kitchen." He poked the dragon's chest plates. “You better not have been drinking Ayly's share."

“Certainly not!" Valyrym arched his neck, glaring down at the smaller creature. “If you must know, she and I were sharing my share, because that is the sort of grandfather I am. Kind, generous, caring, benevolent-"

“Yank your snout outta the thesaurus, will ya? You're starting to sound like Revaramek."

“Ugh!" Valyrym tossed his head, grunting. “That idiot. You're not inviting him this year, are you?"

“You know I'm inviting everyone." The Coyote yawned, and shoved his hands into his hoodie's pockets. “You guys save me any egg nog?"

“Of course." Valyrym followed him, tilting his head. “How does a hood even work with ears like that?"

“Oh!" The Coyote spun around, grinning. “I already thought of that." He tugged his hood up over his head, then opened the flaps atop it, and worked his tan furred ears through the holes in the gray hood. “See? Not bad, eh? And if it's really cold, and you don't mind keeping your ears flattened back, you can close up the flaps for extra warmth."

“That's far too much thought for a story few people will read."

The Coyote tugged his hood back, laughing. “That's okay. I thought of it a while ago, anyway."

In the kitchen he poured himself some egg nog, and added a shot of whiskey to it. Savoring it, he wandered around, giving all his visitors a big hug. Everyone welcomed him home, and, somewhere in reality, The Writer went out for dinner with his mother, and later, shared lots of his con swag and pictures with his mom and dad.

Valyrym interrupted his thought process, tapping him on the shoulder with a claw tip. “You better be careful. You start splitting things up mid-paragraph like that, and you're going to give yourself split personalities."

The Coyote swirled his drink around in his glass, scrunching his muzzle. “Yeah…yeah." He pinned a single ear back. “That sounds bad."

“I keep telling you, sooner or later, one of these…" Valyrym flared a wing, and waved it at the world around them. “Christmas tales is just going to end with a scene of The Writer rocking back and forth in some padded room, somewhere, muttering about dragons and coyotes and Christmas."

The Coyote punched Valyrym on the shoulder. “Quit spoiling my ending." He downed his egg nog, and washed out the glass. “Anyway, this story already took way longer to get to this point than I expected, so I think I'm going to bed."

“That's why you're going to bed?" Valyrym glanced at the clock. “It's only nine pm. That's practically the morning for you! Don't you have dumpsters and hen houses to raid tonight?"

“Hey, I spent the whole weekend pressing my luck with my health cause I was too busy having fun to get enough sleep." The Coyote laughed, and headed for the stairs. “I'm gonna catch up on sleep while I can. Oh, and coyotes don't raid hen houses. Foxes do that. …Then we steal the chickens from the foxes, cause we're bigger and smarter." He padded up the stairs, then called back down to the others. “Night, everyone."

“G'night, Coyote!"

Once in his room, The Coyote got undressed, took a quick shower, then flopped into bed and slept until the next important scene.

***

“Coyote!" Ayly charged into The Coyote's room. “Coyote! Coyote Coyote Coyote!"

“Wha-!?" The Coyote blinked away, vision blurry.

“Coyote!" Ayly took a flying leap onto the bed, landing squarely on The Coyote's stomach. “Coyote!"

“OOOOPH!" The Coyote jolted up, coughing as Ayly slid off of him. “Can't….breathe!"

“It's snowing!" Ayly hopped in circles. “It's snowing, snowing, snowing!"

The Coyote rubbed his aching belly, groaning. “What? It is?" He leaned over, picked up his glasses, and got them settled on his muzzle. He glanced at the window, and saw only white. “Holy shit, it is!"

“Coyote said a swear!" Ayly propped her forepaws up on his shoulder, whispering into his ear. “I wanna say a swear too."

“Oh, no. When I let you say a swear last year, you said horrible things."

Ayly gave a single, solemn nod. “Lellumgurb taught me."

“Then why don't you go swear to Lellumgurb, then."

“Okay!" Ayly hopped off the bed and dashed away.

The Coyote rubbed his muzzle. He threw the blankets off, dug out some clean clothes, and got dressed. He pulled on his new shirt from the furry convention, depicting a cute raccoon's face made of ice. Green boxers, and another pair of jeans, plus his shoes. On the way out of his room, he tugged his hoodie on, too. After falling asleep with damp fur, he knew he must look a mess. Thankfully, no one could tell as long as he wasn't naked. And if ended up naked in front of everyone, something had either gone terribly wrong, or terribly right.

Just as he padded down the stairs, Krek gave a loud, horrified gasp. “AYLY! That's the worst swear word I've ever heard!"

Grinning, The Coyote made his way to the front door. He pulled it open, and his jaw dropped. Outside, the whole world was white. It was snowing so heavily he couldn't even see the other houses across the street. It looked as if a great blizzard had come and swallowed up all of existence, leaving just The Coyote's house and its occupants. He took a few steps out into the snow, his shoes crunching. A gust of wind blew snow against his muzzle, left cold flakes clinging to his fur. His breath came in white, whispy clouds. Dots of snow splattered his glasses.

“Oh, wow!" He took a few more steps out into the white world, overcome with joy. “I've never seen it snow this much down here! It's beautiful!" He walked back to the front door, popped it open and called inside. “Have you guys seen this? It's crazy out here."

Valyrym sat nearby, staring out the front window. “Crazy being the operative word. Amaleen went to investigate."

A cold shiver not from the snow pricked down the coyote's spine, and left his fur bristling. “What do you mean, investigate?"

“It was like this when we all woke up. But…" Valyrym glanced back at the Coyote, his tail curling. “It wasn't supposed to snow today, was it?"

“I dunno, I've been out of town."

The Coyote scowled. As joyful a sight as so much snow was, he had to admit the dragon had a point. He climbed back up the stairs, and turned on the TV to check the local news. Then he grabbed his phone, and turned it on. When it booted up, he scowled. The battery was almost dead. He'd been so tired the night before he forgot to charge it. He cursed and plugged it in to give it some charge while he checked out the snow. The Coyote turned back to the TV, flipping through channels, looking for some coverage of the snowstorm.

“Let's see…Christmas special…Christmas special…A Christmas Story…Rudolph…Frosty…Elf….huh." The Coyote chewed his tongue, then growled and set the remote back down. He crouched down to check his phone. “No service? That snowstorm's worse than I thought. And Wi-Fi's out…snow must have knocked out the internet too. Huh…" He noticed there was still open wifi listened, and pulled up the menu. The only Wi-Fi listed was “N.P.", but it was open. “Oh, what the hell." The Coyote connected to it, and soon his phone had full Wi-Fi again. He tapped a weather app icon, and all it showed on the radar was an endless layer of white, snow falling everywhere. “Huh." On a whim, he zoomed out. Nothing looked familiar. “That's weird."

The Coyote pulled up Google Maps instead. It still showed him at his last location, his house. Something didn't feel right. Tiny, cold snowflakes whirled in his belly. He gave his muzzle an anxious lick, and tapped the icon to update his location. The map zoomed around the world. It came to rest centered over a very unfamiliar location. The Coyote zoomed out, and zoomed out again, and then nearly dropped his phone.

“The north fucking pole?!"

“Coyote said a swear!" Ayly called up the stairs.

The Coyote said his phone back down, still charging, and hurried back to Valyrym. “Where'd you say Amaleen was?"

“Outside, trying to figure out what happened."

“I got a pretty good fucking clue!"

“Coyote said two swears!"

The Coyote grimaced, pointing at Ayly. “Stay here with Krek and keep her safe." He pulled his hood up. “I'm going to get Amaleen."

Back outside, snow swirled in ceaseless waves, driven by howling winds. His tracks from a few moments earlier already had fresh powder in them. The snow fell so heavily that he could hardly see beyond the end of his own muzzle. There was no sign of the street that normally ran in front of his house, nor any sign of the flashing, twinkling lights that adorned his neighbors' houses. The Coyote growled, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. He scanned the ground, looking for footprints. All that was left of Amaleen's tracks were vague outlines. Nearby, there were other tracks, too, half-filled in already. They were unfamiliar.

“Amaleen!" The Coyote took a deep, and called her name again, louder than before. “Amaleeeeeeeen! You need to come back to the house! I think I know…what's…"

The Coyote trailed off when a looming shadow moved beyond the curtain of snow. He eased his hands out of his pockets, turning towards it. It looked like some kind of dark-furred monster, moving nearby. Whatever it was, it snorted, and then snow crunched under heavy weight in pounding rhythm. It was charging him. The thing had four legs, and sharp spikes on its head. Dark fur covered its body. Some kind of broken straps bounced around its body, jingling, like shattered armor.

“Shit!" The Coyote scrambled back towards his house as the monster sprinted through the snow.

There was not far for The Coyote to retreat. He stumbled back the way he'd come, thumping his back up against his front door. For a second he hesitated, unsure if he should slip inside and bar the door, or try and use his Christmas magic to stop whatever it was that was chasing him. As the thing drew close enough, realization struck The Coyote like a slap across the muzzle. It wasn't a monster.

It was a reindeer.

That didn't make it any less dangerous, though. The big animal charged right up onto The Coyote's patio, its many-forked antlers aimed right for his body. It skidded to a stop, with antler tines inches away from The Coyote's furry body. The reindeer snorted, hot breath rose in a cloud of steam. It glared at him, the anger in its eyes mixing with an unexpected intelligence.

“Who are you, and how did you get here? Where's Santa?"

Well, that was unexpected.

The Coyote's jaw dropped. “You can talk?!"

“What?" The Reindeer pulled its head back, tilting. “Yes! But I'm asking the questions here! I mean…aren't I?" It tilted its head the other way, then shoved its antlers at The Coyote again. “Last chance! How did you get here, and what did you do to Santa?"

The reindeer made an odd, groaning noise, probably the closest it could get to a growl. When it probed at him with its antlers, The Coyote tried to shove its head away. “I didn't do anything to Santa, and I don't know how I got here!"

“Wrong answer!" The caribou made another strange, growling groan, anger flashing in its dark eyes, and across its red nose.

The Coyote blinked, noticing for the first time that the end of the deer's muzzle was a bright, scarlet hue. “Ah…Rudolph?"

“What?" The deer took a step back, eyes narrowed, and big ears flattened in suspicion. “How do you know my name? …Who do you work for? Did the Tooth Fairy send you? The Easter Bunny?"

“You gotta be fucking kidding me?" The Coyote pinched the bridge of his muzzle, groaning.

“Oooh, with language like that, you're never getting off his naughty list!"

“Listen, you red-nose tool," The Coyote said with a snarl. “You better back off before…" He blinked, and then smiled. “Actually, no, stand just like that."

“I wasn't about to stand any other way! I'm not done interrogating…" The reindeer trailed off as his ears swiveled towards the sudden, crunching footsteps of someone running up behind him. He turned his head to look over his back, just in time to see Amaleen run up through the snow, and plant her boot directly between his hind legs. He gave a great, ungulate cry, his dark eyes popping out. “OOOOOWWAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

In an instant, all four limbs gave out, and the reindeer crumpled to the patio, groaning.

“Get the hell away from my coyote!" Amaleen snarled down at the fallen deer, holding her hand out for him. The Coyote took it, hurried around the fallen deer, and back out into the snow. “You alright?"

The Coyote glanced down at himself, nodding. “Yeah. Didn't get impaled or anything." He watched the reindeer a moment. Unable to actually grasp himself, all Rudolph could do was scrabble against the ground in pain, wheezing and thrashing around on the snow-dusted patio. “Oh, God, I can't believe you just kicked Rudolph in the balls."

“Who?" Amaleen scrunched her nose. “You know this animal?"

“Uh…sort of."

The front door cracked open, and a black dragon's muzzle marked with blue peeked out. Valyrym's golden eyes widened. “Is that Rudolph!?"

“How do you know who that is?"

“I told you, Ayly and I watch TV! He looks bigger in person…"

“Yeah, he looks like an actual fucking reindeer, with glowing red fur on his nose."

“OOOOOOOOHHHHHH!" Rudolph gave a long, wheezing groan, his eyes rolled back so far the whites were showing. The deer writhed a little more, scrabbling his hooves against the patio brick. “Awrrrrhhhhnnnnn! My jingle beeeeeellls! They…hurt…so…much! What did you…DO…to me!"

“I flattened your furry deer balls, and if you even think about messing with my coyote, I'll do it again!" Amaleen stomped her boot in the snow for good measure. “So you just lay there and wish you were Asterbury!"

The Coyote blinked, spinning towards. “What did you say?"

A confused looked crossed her face. “I wasn't…I didn't mean to say Asterbury, I meant to say…" She worked her mouth a few times, but no sound came out. Then she took a breath, and screamed at the top of the lungs. “ASTERBURY!"

From out of the snow, a billowing golden robe edged in silver erupted. Snow spun into the air, pouring into the robe, filling it out in an instant. In a flash, the snow turned gray, and the robe was filled with a cackling and magnanimously handsome urd'thin. He was all silken gray fur, perfectly arched black horns, big dark eyes with just a hint of green you could really lose yourself in, adorable oversized ears, and the bushiest tail this side of-

“No!" The Coyote shoved Asterbury onto his butt in the snow. “Keep your damn hands off my prose!"

Asterbury only laughed and danced away from The Coyote. “Oh, but it's so much fun to-" He cut himself off with a clap of his hands. “Wait, I've got something better. Lemme just rewind this a teensy bit." He spun a finger counterclockwise in the air, and time wound backwards a few seconds.

Amaleen clapped a hand over her mouth, only to pry it off with the other hand. “Asterbury, Asterbury, Asterbury."

The Coyote put his hand on his face, moaning. “Oh, God, he really is like Beetlejuice. Just don't say, It's show-"

“It's snow-time!" Asterbury pumped both fists in the air after the snow built itself back into his form. “Nailed it!"

“Are you done?" The Coyote growled at him, baring his fangs. “Cause there's no way in hell I'm letting you take control of my Christmas-verse again."

The urd'thin tilted his head, folding his golden-robed arms. “Is that you're calling it now?" He sneered, perking a single ear. “The Christmas-verse? Got your own little continuity going here, do you? Some real important events you've got to keep straight? Got a whole plot arc planned out for this fake version of you? Gonna be funny, and break the fourth-wall, reference some obscure things, then drop a feels-hammer and make everyone cry?"

The Coyote huffed, flattening his ears. “Uh…well…maybe? Maybe not the feels-hammer, I probably did that enough already…wait, why am I even-"

“Introductions!" Asterbury clasped his hand. “I've got to do mine. Wait, I've got something better for myself. Something scary. Lemme just rewind everything."

Asterbury circled his finger in the air, and the story wound backwards. This time, The Coyote snatched the story-stream with his own powers, and wrenched it forward again. “Oh, no. You're not gonna keep rewinding my story. Leave it alone."

“Just let me do this, Coyote! It'll be cool!" Asterbury yanked the story backwards.

“No!" The Coyote pulled it forward again, snarling.

As the Urd'thin and The Coyote played tug-of-war with the story's time, everyone was caught in the middle. Amaleen took a few steps forward, then a few steps back, then forward again. Valyrym opened and closed the door an endless loop. Rudolph rolled around in reverse order, then got to his feet, then fell down again.

Irritated, The Coyote wrapped his Christmas magic around the story, and dragged it out of Asterbury's grasp. Everyone around moved at quadruple speed, back to where they were right after Asterbury arrived.

“There!" The Coyote dusted off his hands. “Now we're back to where we were. Just leave it, and-"

“HHHHRRRRRRLLLLUUURRRGGGGHHHH!" Valyrym vomited egg nog all over the front patio.

Amaleen stumbled away, dropped to her hands and knees, and did the same. “RRRRREEEECCCHHHH!"

Rudolph tried to crawl away from the vomiting dragon, only to suddenly retch up everything in his belly into the snow.

More vomiting sounds came from inside the house. The Coyote scrunched his muzzle, pinning his ears back. “Oh, gross! What the hell did you do to my story, Asterbury?"

“I didn't do anything!" Asterbury shrugged and offered an innocent smile. “You've been wrenching everyone back and forth through time, I don't think their poor stomachs could handle it. You and I might be outside the ebb and flow of things, but I'm afraid they're subjected to it. So!" He clapped his hands together. “Now you've got to let me rewind things until all this started, unless you want them to puking up nog the rest of the story."

“I oughta make you spend the story puking!"

“Now, now, Coyote, we both know you and I are the only ones more or less out of reach of each other's powers. You, because, this is all your imagination, and me, because…well, I'd say you made me overpowered, but you had too, didn't you? After all, the truth is-"

“Alright, alright, alright." The Coyote waved him off. “Don't spoil anything, I haven't finished posting Revaramek yet."

“Well chop, chop, doggy, what's the hold up?" Asterbury spread his arms wide. “You really ought to call it something else, you know. It's as much my story as it is, his."

“Probably gonna call it The Storyteller or something, when it's done. Sort of…fits everyone. And theme."

“Not bad…not bad." Asterbury pulled a candy cane out of his robe, and sucked on the end of it. “Not bad at all." He offered another one to The Coyote. “Candy Cane?"

“Where the hell did you get those?"

“Came with the robe!" Asterbury waggled it at him, and when the Coyote didn't take it, he put it away again. “Ooh, speaking of things hidden in robes, where's Chocolate Strudel? I could open my robe and offer him my candy cane…"

“Vatch isn't here yet." The Coyote smirked, looking Asterbury over. “Yeah, yours is probably striped, too, and just as skinny."

“Hey! It isn't-"

“Bet it's got a big curve like that at the end, too."

“All the better to hit those special places!"

“HHHHRRRRRRUUUUGGGGHHHBBBLLLLBLBLB!"

“Ooooh, your dragon's really had a lot of egg nog today." Asterbury gave his candy a slow lick. “You suuuure you don't want to let me rewind things and do my scary entrance?"

“Fine!" The Coyote held up his hands, grimacing. “But this is the last time, got it? Otherwise I'm looking you in that plot hole box the rest of the story."

“Plot hole box, so clever." Asterbury rolled his eyes, then took a step back. “Alright, here we go. This one's a doozy."

Once again, Asterbury twisted time in reverse. Snowflakes floated back up into the sky. People stood back up. Asterbury spun back out of existence. All around him, streams of egg nog vomit flew back up into mouths and muzzles. He cringed, squeezing his eyes shut. Ewwwwww… He lifted his glasses and ground his palms into his eyes, groaning.

He had to stop doing these Christmas specials.

Time wound forward again.

Amaleen clapped a hand over her mouth, only to pry it off with the other hand. “Asterbury, Asterbury, Asterbury."

This time, The Coyote folded his arms, waiting. When nothing happened, he glanced around. That was weird. He wondered just what the little rodent was planning.

The sky darkened. The Coyote glanced up. Beyond the clouds and snow, a great eclipse cast itself across the sun. Shadow fell over the sky, turning snow the color of ash, and then, darkness. The Coyote gulped, taking a few steps back towards his house. All around them, the snow darkened further, until it fell, black and ominous. Soon, each snowflake was a tiny shard of obsidian, clinking and clattering against each other as they fell. They bounced off his hoodie, scattered across the ground.

“What the hell?" Amaleen eased away from him, heading to the shelter of the patio.

Black flakes fell past The Coyote's face. Each reflected another dead world, another story that ended, another reality collapsed into itself. He whined, flattening his ears, following after Amaleen. “Okay, I admit it, Asterbury. That's pretty creepy…you can stop now…"

One by one, every source of light winked out. Only his Christmas tree, twinkling beyond the front window, remained shining. The Coyote turned for the door, and found it barred by battered bones. He growled under his breath. Behind him, distant strains of music played. A haunting, echoing voice drifted in the distance, singing the same repeated line.

“Celestial violence…."

The Coyote turned around again, searching for the sound of the voice.

“Celestial violence…"

In the distance, lights appeared above the obsidian fragments littering the ground. They coalesced into a field of stars, a swirling galaxy, a cosmos reflected infinitely across the tiny shades of glittering darkness spread across the ground. From the infinite stars, and the grand cosmos, poured forth stardust. The Stardust took bipedal form, and soon, attained shape and color. Black horns, and gray fur. A lean body, tightly muscled. Tall, proud ears. Dark eyes, swirling with stars, a being forged in the imagination of the cosmos itself.

The being spread its arms, and the black snow froze all around it. In an instant, the snow forged armor, covering the creature in obsidian plates, each with its own galaxy twisting across it, a dozen spirals, each with a thousand stories locked together. The creature strode forward, and all the shards of darkness covering the ground parted for him like waves upon the sea.

When he spoke, his voice was booming thunder, rattling the windows in The Coyote's house, shaking the very heavens themselves. “I am Lord Asterbury! Forger of Worlds! Your lives are but my stories to tell! From nothingness, I bring existence! And from existence, I forge nothingness!"

The Coyote's jaw dropped. He fought back the urge to shield everyone with his Christmas magic, just in case Asterbury had something else planned. “That's…actually a pretty cool introduction…"

“Well, thanks, old buddy!" In an instant, Asterbury's voice was back to its usual, cheerfully unhinged self. He pumped his fist in the air. “Been working on that one! Not very seasonally appropriate, though is it?" The urd'thin glanced down, then waved a hand over himself. His obsidian armor transmuted into red felt with white highlights, and just like that, Asterbury was dressed only in a cheery Santa costume, complete with droopy crimson hat. “How's that, better?"

“It's not as nice as the gold one, but…"

“The gold one was lovely, but that was so last year's story." Asterbury cackled. “Besides, it was a better fit for a villain. I'm a good guy now!"

“What do you mean, you're a good-"

“Listen here, you mangy little rat-dog!" Amaleen stomped towards the urd'thin.

“Now, now, Mirelle…" He blinked. “I mean, Amaleen…that's just racist."

“If you're even thinking about causing us the sort of trouble you caused last year…" Amaleen lifted her foot, waggling her boot. “I'm gonna kick you in your little furry grapes so hard you're gonna have to start calling yourself Lady Asterbury!"

“Oooh, careful Amaleen!" Asterbury walked right past her, pausing to put a hand by his muzzle and whisper up to her. “You'll give the coyote a chubby!"

“Hah hah, Asterbury." The Coyote folded his arms, growling. “Okay then. What the hell are you doing here? The party's not supposed for weeks."

“Well, the thing about that is…" The urd'thin came to a stop just behind the reindeer, still writhing on the snowy patio. “What the hell happened to him?"

The front door popped open again, and Valyrym stuck his neck out, snarling. “What the hell are you doing here?"

“Who is it?" Krek's voice echoed from inside the house.

Valyrym glanced back. “It's Asterbury!"

The gryphon gave a startled squawk. “What the hell is he doing here?!"

“Oh, I've an idea!" Asterbury clapped his hands, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Let's all keep asking the same question, but emphasizing a different word each time!" He whirled around to face The Coyote again. “Hilarious! Does your zany wit know no bounds? Ooh, should we invite the cast of Full House? They sure knew their way around a pun. No, better yet, Fuller House!" Asterbury cackled. “I hear it's garbage, so it'll be right up your mangy coyote alley!"

“I'm about to shove that candy cane you offered me up your alley if you don't answer the damn question."

“Where's the fun in that?" Asterbury nudged the reindeer with his booted foot. “No, really. What happened to him?"

“Amaleen kicked him in the balls for threatening me."

“Oooh, bet that really turned his nose red!" Asterbury cackled, flicking his fingers at the deer, and hoisting the creature to its hooves in an instant. “Say, what else turns red on you? When you see a lady deer you like, does your-"

“Asterbury!" The Coyote thumped him on the shoulder. “Family story!"

“Is not." Asterbury waved his hand. “Was only a few stories ago old Krekky Bird was getting' blown by Trouble, while Valar was givin' her the old jingle-bell rock on your bed!"

“God, what a dry cleaning bill that was."

“You dry clean your blankets?"

“Oooooooooh, my snowballs…" Rudolph's legs trembled, and his head hung, ears drooping. “I'm…a beloved…children's holiday…icon! I'm…not supposed to be kicked in the testicles!"

“You're not supposed to menacing my coyote, either!" Amaleen punched the deer on the shoulder.

“You know, technically…" Asterbury walked around behind the deer, glancing between his back legs. “He's not supposed to have testicles."

“What?" Rudolph jerked his head up. “Leave those alone!"

Asterbury gestured at them, shrugging. “You need to do your research better, Coyote. In point of fact, Santa's reindeer are all female."

The Coyote rubbed his head, near one of his ears. “Shut up, Asterbury. You're giving me a headache."

“It's true, you know. Read a book, scavenger! Only female reindeer keep their antlers through what you know as Christmas time."

“Who gives a shit?"

“Actually, Coyote…" Valyrym stared at Rudolph's horns from the door. “As much as it pains me to side with Asterbury, I think he's right. Ayly and I saw a TV show about that, the other night."

“That's it!" The Coyote pushed past everyone else, and slipped through the door, thumping Valyrym. “You're banned from watching TV!"

“I'm just saying! If you want to be accurate, you need all the reindeer with antlers in this story to be female."

The Coyote whirled back around. “There's nothing the least bit accurate about any of my Christmas stories!"

Asterbury leaned against the doorframe, smiling. “That's because you never do your research."

“The reindeer are based on the cartoons and movies!" The Coyote thrust a finger at Rudolph. “He's based on the cartoons and movies, and books, and whatever the fuck else! Where he's always assumed to be male. Rudolph is a male name. Therefor, he's male! End of discussion!"

“But scientifically-"

“Amaleen!" The Coyote waved at Asterbury and Valyrym. “If either of them brings up the science of reindeer genders again for the rest of the story, kick them both in the balls. Hard."

Amaleen smiled. “Do I have to wait for them to bring it up?"

“Say, what's that on your nose?" Asterbury peered at the end of Rudolph's muzzle. “That doesn't look right." He poked the deer's red nose a few times, then clucked his tongue and shook his head. “You better get that looked at, right away." He leaned towards Amaleen, whispering. “I think it's a tumor."

“Wh-what?" Rudolph glanced back and forth between them, his dark reindeer eyes wide. “Wh-what's a tumor?"

Asterbury poked his nose again, his voice sad, and sorrowful. “That is, I'd wager."

“No, I mean…what is a tumor?"

“Oh!" Once more, Asterbury was bright and cheerful. He crooked his elbow and pumped his fist, beaming. “It means you're gonna die!"

“What? But I don't wanna die!"

“You're not gonna die!" The Coyote grit his teeth, wanting to tear his fur out. “Asterbury! What! Are! You! Doing! Here!"

“Aside from picking apart your pathetic story?" The urd'thin cackled, pushing his way past everyone to join The Coyote. “Why don't we all come in, and I'll tell you all about it over some egg nog, hot cocoa, and other generic seasonal favorites!"

The Coyote snatched his arm, growling. “Now, Asterbury."

“Alright, alright, no need to get all cranky, no one's bogarting your dumpster." Asterbury twisted away. He flicked his fingers, and a chair shot through the room, stopping just behind The Coyote and Amaleen. He hopped up on it to drape his arms across their shoulders. “You know, I just felt so bad about what I put you through last year, I wanted to make it up to you. So, I put together a holiday adventure for us to all go on together!"

The Coyote blinked, his voice flat. “What."

“Oh, it'll be just like old times!" Asterbury hugged Amaleen and The Coyote's heads up against him. “You and her and old grumpy scales, back together against with your best friend Asterbury. Together again at last!"

“No!" The Coyote shoved him away, backing up. “There's no old times, there wasn't even a first time! We sure as hell weren't your best friends. You were trying to kill me!"

“I was trying to teach you a valuable lesson about the power of friendship!" Asterbury hopped off his chair, cackling. “And…some other nonsense about your old characters being mad at you…I forget exactly what happened." He waggled his fingers alongside his head. “The memory's the first thing to go when you reach my age, yanno. Functionally immortal and all." He cupped his hand around his muzzle, throwing his voice across the room. “Egg nog!" Then he gasped, bouncing on his toes. “Did someone say, egg nog? I love egg nog! Let's go!"

“You put us through hell last year, and-"

“And you invited me back this year anyway, cause you've got a big old stupid heart!" Asterbury danced down the hallway, spinning and pirouetting. “Which is why I wanted to do something nice for you! So I dropped you and your friends smack in the middle of the north pole, so we can all have an adventure based on a beloved children's classic."

The Coyote took a deep breath, and let it out in a long, slow sigh. “Which classic?"

“Oh, I dunno." Asterbury skipped into the kitchen. He stuck his head in the fridge, digging around. “The one with the elves…or…santa…or the snowman. I forgot exactly…probably all of them!"

“Umm…speaking of Santa…" Rudolph followed everyone else in, struggling not to slip on the tile floor. “I guess…you're not the ones who…knocked us out of the sky, after all?"

“What?" The Coyote turned around, noticing for the first time that the gear Rudolph wore looked like some kind of harness. It was ripped and torn, dangling from him in broken pieces. “Asterbury, what'd you do?"

“Oh, that was it!" Asterbury chugged egg nog straight from the bottle, then beamed at the coyote. “We've got to go help Santa!"

“What did you do?"

“Oh, the past is the past, who cares about that? Time to move on and look to the future!" Asterbury tossed the bottle of egg nog down, spilling it all over the floor. “It's not what we did that matters, it's what we do next! So!" He clapped his hands, then pointed back to the front door. “Onwards, to the north pole, gang! It's up to us best pals to save Christmas!"

“Oh, hell. We're actually doing this, aren't we." The Coyote put his muzzle in his hands, groaning. “Fuck me."

Rudolph shook his head. “You are so on the naughty list."

***

“Isn't this great?" Asterbury skipped through the snow. “All of us best friends, together again, off on another adventure?"

The Coyote growled under his breath, ears flattened against his snow-dusted hoodie. “I'm not sure I'd call this an adventure. And we're sure as hell not best friends, Asterbury."

“Oh, sure we are!" Asterbury waved his hand at Amaleen, huddled beneath a green cloak, edged in Christmas garland. “Remember all the fun we had last year?"

“I remember you sent me to a swamp, and got my chased by a psychotic dragon!" Amaleen glared at the urd'thin.

“We all got chased by a psychotic dragon." Valyrym snorted, stretching his dark wing to shield Amaleen from the heavy snowfall. “I was in that car, too. And you twisted the story till it suppressed Coyote's Magic so he couldn't do anything about it!"

“Made for a pretty good Jurassic park parody, didn't it?"

“That wasn't a parody." The Coyote flicked his tail, clearing the snow. “It was a reference. And it was scary as hell, Ayly was in the car too, you know!"

Ayly, riding atop Kreks back, giggled and bounced against his feathers. “Wheeeeee! Spinny car ride!"

Asterbury cackled, gesturing at Ayly. “Yes, and clearly she's so traumatized she wants to do it again! Really, I don't know why she keeps coming back here with the rest of you. She's the only one who wants to have fun, but you're all so boring! She must have Stockholm syndrome."

“Ayly is not our hostage. If anything…" The Coyote tapped his chest. “I've got Stockholm syndrome, from you taking over my stories."

“Oh, that's not Stockholm Syndrome, it's because you love me!" He skipped a few more paces, then spun around, snow flying up around him. “We're all best friends, remember?"

“We most certainly are not best friends!" Krek hissed and snapped his beak, shaking himself. Ayly giggled as she wobbled on his back. “Last year, you-"

“Oh, who asked Valar's sex toy?" Asterbury growled at him, the snow forming little icicles all around his head. “You were barely even in last year's story!"

“That's because you wrapped me up in tinsel and let that purple-scaled…wait, what did you call me?" Krek came to a stop, staring. “I've got a hatchling on my back!"

“And if she knows what I'm talking about, it's your fault, not mine!"

“Hey!" Valyrym snarled, flaring up his blue-edged spines. “Don't you say things like that about the bird!"

Krek smiled, and resumed trudging through the snow. “Thank you, Valyrym."

Valyrym ignored him, and kept glaring at Asterbury. “My son has far better taste than that."

Krek nodded, glancing at the dragon. “Yeah, he…hey! Not funny, lizard!"

“The point is." The Coyote strode up to Asterbury, and poked him in the chest. “None of us are best friends with you. We're not even regular friends with you."

“Oh, nonsense." Asterbury pushed the Coyote's hand away. “Why, remember that time we all went to the beach together, and ol' Val stepped on the jellyfish?"

***

Asterbury, Amaleen, Valyrym, Krek, The Coyote, and Ayly all wandered an endless stretch of white sand. The late afternoon sun painted everything in beautiful shades of burnt gold. Beyond the sand, sunlight glittered off the infinite ocean, rolling and blue. Waves sloshed against the sand, a soothing rhythm of cascading sound.

“Watch this, everyone!" Valyrym smiled at all his best friends, especially Asterbury. “I'm going to run through the waves!"

“Be careful, best buddy, you might step on a jelly fish!" Asterbury waved as the dragon ran to the water's edge.

Valyrym laughed as the waves lapped at his paws, water pouring across them first one way, then the other. “It's cold!" He trotted through the surf, more waves splashing against him.

“Boy, this sure is fun, isn't it?"

“It sure is, Asterbury!" The Coyote ruffled Asterbury's fur, between his horns.

“We've had so many fun adventures together!" Amaleen laughed and gave Asterbury a hug.

“We've been friends for so long," Krek said, nodding.

“I wub woo Atterbewy!" Ayly hugged his leg.

“OW!" Valyrym yelped down the shore, holding up his forepaw. “I stepped on a jellyfish!"

Everyone had a good laugh, especially Asterbury. “We're all best friends!"

***

The Coyote's head swam. He clutched it in both hands, groaning. “Owww. Did you just flash back to something that never happened?"

“What are you talking about?" Asterbury bounced on his toes. “That was just last summer! We're all best friends, aren't we gang?"

Valyrym lifted his paw, staring at it. “I don't even know what a jellyfish was, but suddenly I'm sure I stepped on one, while visiting the beach…with…"

Amalaeen rubbed her eyes, then peered at the urd'thin in confusion. “…Asterbury?"

“Of course with Asterbury! We're all best friends."

“Stop saying that!" The Coyote tried to snatch the urd'thin by a horn, but he darted out of reach. “Don't listen to him. He's just…shaping a fake memory into your head."

“Oh, p'shaw. Remember that time we all saved Mars?"

“We did not save Mars!"

“Did so!" Asterbury shrugged. “Why, they were running out of air! And then poor Valyrym's head exploded!"

***

The Coyote stood atop a grand, open air elevator, rising through grimy industrial shafts, deep in a martial colony. Outside, the late afternoon sun painted everything in beautiful shades of Martian red. Beyond the colony, sunlight glittered off the infinite expanse of Mars, rolling and red. Waves didn't slosh against the sand, because there was no ocean on Mars. The Coyote thrust two severed arms up over his head, as the bad guy's corpse plummeted away.

“Cohaagen!" The Coyote screamed, shaking the arms.

“We've got to save Mars," said Amaleen, who was just a mutant head and arm sticking out of Krek's belly.

“Kuatoleen is right!" Krek glanced down at the mutated head protruding from his feathers.

“Yes!" Asterbury put his arms around his best friends. “We've got to turn that air back on before all of Mars suffocates!"

“Watch this everyone!" Valyrym hopped off the elevator when it came to a stop, and ran towards a window overlooking the alien landscape.. “I'm going to run across Mars!"

“Be careful, best buddy, you might step on a Martial jellyfish!" Asterbury waved as the dragon ran towards the window.

Valyrym laughed as he smashed through the window and out onto the surface of Mars. “It's cold!" He trotted through the sandy surface, while inside everything was sucked towards the sudden breach in the colony's hull.

“WHEEEEEEEEE!" Ayly squealed in glee as she topped through the air. “Explosive decompression ride!"

“Boy, this sure is fun, isn't it?" Asterbury spun through the air after her.

“It sure is, Asterbury!" The Coyote ruffled Asterbury's fur, between his horns as they both grabbed onto a conveniently placed railing.

“We've had so many fun adventures together!" Kuatoleen laughed and hugged Asterbury with her tiny, gross mutant arm, while Krek clutched the railing.

“We've been friends for so long," Krek said, nodding.

“I wub woo Atterbewy!" Ayly caught Asterbury's leg, and hugged it.

“OW!" Valyrym yelped down the shore, holding up his forepaw. “I stepped on a jellyfish!" Then his head exploded, because Mars.

Everyone had a good laugh, especially Asterbury. “We're all best friends!"

***

Valyrym stumbled around, snow crunching under his paws. “Owww…I have…the weird memory now. Did my head explode?"

“It did!" Asterbury patted the dragon's muzzle. “Lucky you for, you got better. We have such fun adventures!"

“Did we…save Mars?" Amaleen glanced at the gryphon, then felt around his chest, ruffling his feathers. “Was I…sticking out of you?"

“No!" The Coyote stomped his foot. “None of you did any of that! That was just a poorly stitched together Total Recall reference."

“No, no, no, now that was a parody."

The Coyote grabbed his ears in frustration, tugging them. “It was so bad. Did you just…copy-paste the whole scene from the beach, and change things around?"

“Certainly not!" Asterbury shrugged, grinning. “I'm not the one writing this schlock. That would just be lazy. But we all remember being best friends, right?"

Krek ruffled himself, warbling. “I…I do remember that, yes. I…thought I hated you, but…"

“I know what you mean, Bird." Valyrym tossed his head. “We seem to have had an awful lot of fun adventures with our best friend Asterbury."

“No, no, and no!" The Coyote twisted around, giving everyone a shove. “Can't you tell he's just…putting memories in your heads? It won't work with me, but he's just…he's ripping off that Rick and Morty episode!"

“Oh, I love that show!" Asterbury clapped his hands. “Especially when I get to watch it with all my best friends. Say, do you guys remember-"

The Coyote grabbed at Asterbury's muzzle, trying to hold it shut. “No! No more flashing back to things that didn't happen!"

Asterbury spun away, cackling. “You guys remember when we all sat around watching Rick and Morty together during that snowstorm?"

***

Asterbury, Amaleen, Valyrym, Krek, and Ayly all sat on the couch, watching an endless marathon of Rick and Morty. The late afternoon television painted everything in beautiful shades of cartoon blue. Outside the house, sunlight glittered off the infinite snow, falling and white. Waves of windblown snow sloshed against the windows, a soothing rhythm of gentle sound.

“Boy, I sure love this show!" The Coyote sipped his beer. “It's so clever!"

“I know!" Amaleen sipped her apple cider. “The satire is razor sharp!"

“It reminds me of Futurama," said Asterbury, swishing his absinthe around in the hollow skull of his storytelling adversary. “But not in a rip off sort of way, just in a general feeling of highly comedic scifi, but with very dark themes and undertones."

“Hah!" Krek squawked laughter. “All the aliens look like they have balls."

Everyone turned and stared at Krek.

The gryphon gryphon cleared his throat. “I mean, uh…it's so clever how they subvert the lovable mad scientist and his family, trope. It's like…back to the future, only he's an abusive alcohol. And…it's very dark, and once in a while it smashes you in the face with feelings." The gryphon glanced at The Coyote. “No wonder you like it!"

“Watch this, everyone!" Valyrym stood up, smiling. “I'm going to run through the TV and join Rick and Morty on an adventure."

“Be careful, best buddy, you might step on a jelly fish!" Asterbury waved as the dragon sprinted towards the TV.

Valyrym laughed and ran straight at the TV. He smashed his head all the way through it and right into the wall, breaking his neck in an instant. The dragon collapsed in a limp, twitching heap of black scales. Everyone stared in shock. The Coyote slowly got up off the sofa, his jaw hanging open.

Furious, The Coyote hurled his beer on the floor. “Damn it, Valyrym, I was watching that!"

“Don't worry, gang, I can fix this in a jiffy!" Asterbury hopped to his feet, cracking his knuckles. “Time for Uncle Asterbury's patented magic to fix everything." Asterbury waggled his fingers. The broken TV pulled itself off the dead dragon's neck, and the shattered TV stand pieced itself back together. Then the TV settled down on it, repaired itself, and soon, was playing Rick and Morty once more. “Ta-da! Boy, this sure is fun, isn't it?"

“It sure is, Asterbury!" The Coyote ruffled Asterbury's fur, between his horns. “Great job!"

“You're so good at everything. And we've had so many fun adventures together!" Amaleen laughed and gave Asterbury a hug.

“We've been friends for so long," Krek said, nodding. “We always know you'll come through for us in the end."

“I wub woo Atterbewy!" Ayly hugged his leg.

On the TV, the Rick and Morty episode was suddenly interrupted by an old black dragon, running down an alien landscape behind the two title characters.

“Oh, great, Morty, you took us to the-BURRRP-universe where dragons exist!"

“Oh, geee, Rick, I kinda like dragons!"

“Sure you do, Morty, because-BURRP-you're a fuckin' idiot, and-BELLCH-you don't know that dragons have a thing for virgins!"

“Guess Summer's safe then."

“I'm talkin' about you, Morty! And he's not gonna eat you, either!" Rick pumped his fists and thrust his pelvis towards Morty. “You know what I-BURRRRP-mean, Morty? They're bring you to a club for dragons, and pass you around like a tight little party favor! Let's get the fuck outta here!"

“OW!" Valyrym wandered back into the scene holding up his forepaw. “I stepped on an alien jellyfish!" Then his head exploded.

Everyone had a good laugh, especially Asterbury. “We're all best friends!"

***

Asterbury cackled, clapping his hands together. “You see? I told you! We're all best friends, and we always have been!"

“No!" The Coyote snarled, balling up his fist. “Just…fucking no! You know how that episode ends, Asterbury? The family realizes all those flashbacks are being caused by alien parasites, and they kill all the aliens!"

“That sounds like a job you need a best friend to help with!" Asterbury snapped his fingers, beaming. “You guys remember that time we had to kill all those alien parasites?"

This time, The Coyote threw his arms wide, and snatched at the flashback before it could be born. He twisted it into a tight little ball, crumbled up like old parchment, and stuffed it into the pocket of his hoodie. “Enough! You're derailed this story too already."

“Like this story was going anywhere!" Asterbury walked in a circle, waving his arms. “Oooh, I'm gonna write ten thousand words bout my trip to the hospital." His voice twisted into a snarl. “How exciting! Just what your readers wanted! You should be thanking me!" He stepped forward, jabbing a finger into The Coyote's belly. “You didn't have any ideas for a story this year, and then along comes Asterbury, to save the day as usual." A grin twisted up the urd'thin's muzzle. “Why, remember that time I helped you save-MFFF!"

The Coyote grabbed his muzzle in both hands, glaring him. “Shut it! Fine, you brought us to a Christmas adventure. Let's…get back to the adventure."

Asterbury wriggled free. “Oh, very well."

“How come I'm not in any of these flashbacks?" Rudolph trotted forward, whining. “Aren't I your best friend too?"

Asterbury whirled on the deer, swishing a red-robed arm. “You? You're a peripheral character, at best! You're not important enough to be in my flashbacks."

“Awwww…" The reindeer hung his head, the glow of his red nose dampening.

“But don't worry…" Asterbury thrust a finger towards the distance. “I've got something for you, just ahead…" The falling snow settled into big arrows on the ground, pointing the way.

“Wh-whaddya mean?"

Asterbury shrugged. “I think the next leg of our journey starts just up ahead! Might be some clues to your jolly jiggle-bellied buddy up there?"

Rudolph tilted his head. “Santa's up there? Then we have to hurry, he might need us!" Rudoph trotted forward, following the arrows made out of snow.

“I have a question." The Coyote held up a hand. “Why are we walking? We've got…" He waved his hand at Valyrym and Krek. “One, two…" Then he gestured at Rudolph's form, fading into the thick curtain of snow. “I'm assuming three creatures who could fly. So…why aren't we flying?"

Valyrym tilted his head back, his golden eyes dulled by flight membranes closed to protect his eyes from the cold. “What, in this? I'm not flying in a damn blizzard."

“You lazy-"

“We don't even know where we're going, anyway!" The old dragon tossed his head, hissing. “Maybe if we had some destination in mind-"

“Oh, God! Oooooh, noooooo!" Rudolph's voice rang out in a piercing shriek. “Noooooooooo!"

The Coyote came to a stop, turning to glare at Asterbury. “Now what did you do?"

The urd'thin flattened his ears back, muzzle scrunched up in apparent confusion. “I've no idea. Whatever he's found isn't my doing."

“You lying little…" The Coyote trailed off, huffing a cloud of steam in the air. “Forget it. Let's just go see what new horrible thing has happened."

The rest of the group all hurried ahead, following Rudolph's hoof prints in the snow. Bits of red and gold jutted from the snow in a few places. The Coyote paused to pull at a bit of leather that protruded. It turned out to be part of a long, torn strap, laden with silver bells. He showed it to the others, his teeth grip. Further ahead, Rudolph was sniffing around. Large, red blotches marred the snow in a long, uneven line, half-covered by fresh powder.

“Please tell me that's not what I think it is."

As Amaleen hurried over to Rudolph, Asterbury scooped up a handful of half-frozen, slushy red snow. He sniffed it, and then gave it a slow lick while making eye contact with The Coyote the whole time. “Well…it's not spaghetti sauce."

“EEWWWW!" The Coyote flailed his hands around his head, trying to chase that image right back out of his memory.

“Oh…Oh, no…" Amaleen called back to the others. “Someone cover Ayly's eyes!"

The trail of blood led dead reindeer, half buried in blood-stained snow. The Coyote approached it, while Krek and Valyrym stayed behind to keep Ayly away. Just like Rudolph, bits of broken harness hung from the deer's shattered form. The deer's neck was twisted at an unnatural angle, and one of its antlers was shattered into a dozen pieces. A whole front leg was missing, leaving only ragged flesh and rent bone.

“What the hell? It looks like something tore its leg off." The Coyote glanced up at the sky. “I can't tell if the crash killed it or…maybe it lost its leg in the air, couldn't stay aloft…crashed and broke its neck. Unless something tore the leg off after it was already dead…"

“Blitzen…" Rudolph slunk through the snow, his head hanging low, ears drooping. “Never got along. Was a real pushy jerk. But…didn't want this…But if he's here, where's Santa?"

“What…exactly…happened?" The Coyote turned away from the dead reindeer to regard Rudolph.

“I'm not sure! One moment we're all flying on a practice run, and Santa's looking through some new books…and the next, it was like there was some kind of…explosion! Our harness was shredded, and we all lost our connection to each other! When we fly, it…it sort of…" He waved a hoof. “Links us. Our minds, our instincts, and having that suddenly ripped away? I think we all just sort of flew off in different directions. I started toppling through the air. I heard screams and cries and I could have sworn I heard some kind of…crazy laughter."

The Coyote spun around, glaring at Asterbury.

“What?" The Urd'thin shrugged, folding his arms. “Surely I'm not the only villain in your universe with crazy, psychotic laughter."

“I don't think it was him…" Rudolph pawed at the snow. “It sounded more like…like reindeer laughter. Like there was another reindeer up there, only…evil. Corrupted."

“Huh…" The Coyote an ear. “That…doesn't totally sound like Asterbury."

“But if Blitzen's here, and…Santa isn't…I wonder where he went? I landed…somewhere near your house, I think. I thought you were invading us! We're supposed to be…you know, unfindable!"

“I don't think that's a word."

“The last time something happened, it turned out to be infiltration agents sent by the Easter Bunny. He turned a few of the elves against us, and we had to root them out. That's when Comet and I…well…" He gulped and looked away, then sighed.

“Yes, yes, we're all very invested in your backstory." Asterbury stomped ahead. “But this wasn't me. So the question is, where is Santa?"

“I don't know! The sleigh is equipped for emergency self-propulsion, and Santa Protection, and…it's programmed to return home to the Fortress in case of emergency…so…maybe there?"

“Santa has a fortress?"

“Hey, Coyote!" Amaleen's voice called out. “There's another reindeer over here. He…didn't make it either."

“Oh, no, no, no no nooooo!" Rudolph broke into a sprint, muttering to himself. “Please don't be Comet, please don't be Comet, please don't be…Oh, thank god, it's Donner! I mean, poor Donner, but, oh thank Mrs. Claus' Peppermint Cookies it's not my dear Comet!"

The Coyote blinked. “Did…did he say…his dear Comet?"

Asterbury lowered his voice to a whisper. “I think they're an item."

The Coyote snickered. “Maybe you're right."

“Yanno…" Asterbury made a circle with his thumb and finger, and pumped his other forefinger through it.

“Yeah. I got it."

“Candying the cane? Frosting the sugar cookie? Putting the hat on Frosty?"

“Those aren't even-"

“Sugar plums dancing on their heads? Guzzling the egg nog?"

“Oh, God. Just stop already!"

“Wait, wait, one more…"

The Coyote grit his teeth. “Fine."

“Creaming of a White Christmas?" Asterbury cackled, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “No, wait, Creaming for a White Christmas. Yanno, because they're-"

“We get it!"

Asterbury folded his arms, smirking. “…Gay."

“Ah…Coyote?" Krek's voice was an uncertain warble.

“What?"

“It's moving…"

Asterbury crouched down, glancing between Krek's hind legs. “Is it? Well, if you ask Rudolph and Comet nicely, maybe they'll let you watch."

“Not that!" Krek snapped his beak. “That!" He pointed a single unsheathed talon towards The Coyote.

Asterbury turned his gaze towards The Coyote's crotch. “No, I don't think he's into it."

“I'm not!" The Coyote shoved the urd'thin away.

“No! Behind him!"

“The deer, you idiots!" Valyrym growled, taking a few steps back.

The Coyote spun around just in time to see the reindeer's corpse rise up out of the snow. It wobbled on three legs, frozen blood falling in jagged chunks from its lost limb. Its dead eyes turned a milky white, and all three of its remaining hooves twisted it, becoming curling and jagged. Shattered antlers grew into razor edged spines atop its head. More spines erupted from its back, and blood trickled down its snow-crusted fur. The deer's head flopped about on its broken neck as it floated up into the air, hovering a few feet off the ground.

“What the double shit?!" The Coyote scrambled back towards the others.

“Coyote said a swear!"

“Not the time, Ayly!" The Coyote waved his hand at Krek, his black feathers dusted with white. “Keep Ayly safe!"

“On it!" Krek scooped her up in a forepaw, backing away from the others.

Valyrym glanced over, hissing. “Isn't she always safe in a Christmas story?"

“Probably! But I've never had an undead-WHA!" The Coyote dropped into the snow when the reanimated deer swooped in at him, lashing for his head with its jagged hooves. “Ah! That knocked my glasses off!"

“Not really the time for a callback, Coyote!" Valyrym flattened hismelf to the ground when the deer came after him, its sharp, blade-like antlers missing by inches before it hurled back up into the clouds.

“No, I mean it…really knocked my glasses off!" The Coyote felt around in the snow. “Nobody move, I don't want them to get stepped on!"

“Moving seems like something we have to do!" Valyrym scrambled back to his paws while the had the chance. Then the reindeer swooped down over his back, head flopping back and forth, jagged antlers and hooves trying to slice through his wings. The dragon darted out of the way, and something crunched under his paw as Blitzen's ruined form shot upwards. “Ah…oops."

“You idiot!"

“Oh, I'm sorry, I was busy trying not to die!"

The Coyote pushed himself back up to his feet, squinting. Without his glasses, it was hard to distinguish one shape in the snow from another. But he saw something red moving nearby, and pointed at it. “Valyrym, your fire still works here! Just burn that thing!"

Valyrym twisted towards The Coyote's target. “You're pointing at Asterbury!"

“I know!" The Coyote stomped against the snow. “That Santa-robed shit did this!"

“Oh, sure, blame the villain, just because he's done an uncountable number of evil things!" Asterbury pointed a finger up into the clouds, with his thumb up, miming a gun. “Just blast your fire in that direction in three…" He traced a line through the air. “Two…one…fire!"

Valyrym took a deep breath, and spat a line of searing flames where Asterbury pointed. The reindeer swept out of the low-hanging clouds straight for them, only to fly headfirst into Valyrym's fire. It toppled through the air like a crackling meteor, shooting above everyone and plunging into a snowdrift with a hissing cloud of steam. The scorched carcass kicked at the air, still wriggling, and let out a hideous, high pitched demonic cackle.

“That sound!" From the distance, Rudolph called back. “That's the laughter I heard during the attack that separated us!"

With a roar, Valyrym spat another burst of fire over the undead thing, incinerating it until at last its laughter died off. It twitched and shook till there was little left of it but scorched flesh and bone. Then he wrenched its head away from its body and hurled it into the distance, snorting. The dragon whirled around towards Asterbury, advancing on the urd'thin, his fangs bared.

“What the hell have you done?"

“Me?" Asterbury put a hand on his chest. “I haven't done anything!"

“The hell you haven't!" The Coyote snarled at him, then crouched down to pick up his shattered glasses. He waved his hand over them, and they knit back together, good as new. He popped them onto his muzzle, hooked them behind his ears, and walked over to Asterbury. “You put all this in motion!"

Asterbury held his gray-furred hands up as if in surrender. “I didn't know what was going to happen! I just took your going-nowhere story, and plopped it down in the middle of a holiday classic!" He slapped one hand against the other. “And bingo, bango, us best friends are smack in the middle of another exciting adventure! Why, it's just like the time those angry Viking shieldmaidens neutered Valyrym!"

“What?!" Valyrym jerked his head back, his golden eyes wide.

“No!" The Coyote snatched Asterbury's right ear in a hand, twisting it. “You are not flashing back to that!"

Cackling, Asterbury twisted free. “Then he stepped on a jellyfish, and declared we were all best friends."

“You are the worst!"

“I'm the best and everyone loves me!"

“Your worldview needs serious re-adjustment." The Coyote grit his teeth, glaring down at the smaller creature. “Alright, just what story did you put us in? Cause I can't think of any beloved holiday classic with zombie reindeer."

“Oh, it's a doozy, or so I assume. I haven't actually read it myself, thought it'd be more fun to jump in and see what happens."

“Read it?" The Coyote pinned his ears back. “So it's a book?" He held out a hand. “Lemme see it."

“Can do, old buddy!" Asterbury slipped a hand into his red felt robe, feeling around. “Let's see what old Saint Nick's got in his robe!"

“More like Saint Prick." Valyrym snorted, glaring at the urd'thin.

Asterbury froze. A smile crept across his muzzle. “Now that's not bad." He whipped out a thick book, with the title in comic sans font, dripping with blood. “Here ya go, old pal. Though, it's less a published book, and more, a personal printing of a manuscript."

“You wrote this?" The Coyote took it, glancing at the urd'thin.

“Me? No, I found it on fanfiction.net!"

“What? You said it was a beloved classic!"

“It had a good review! Three stars! That's good, right?"

“You mangy little flutternutter, I oughta…" The Coyote trailed off when he caught sight of the book's title. “Oh, God."

“What is it?" Valyrym craned his neck to see the book.

The Coyote ran a hand down his muzzle. “Santa Claus Vs the Evil Dead."

“Is that bad?"

“Yes that's bad!" The Coyote flailed the book in the air. “We're gonna get sued! Do you know what kind of rights issues this series had? Even Sam Raimi couldn't get the rights back for a while! Then when they did the TV show, they couldn't even mention anything related to Army of Darkness in season one! This is like, a minefield of trademark lawsuits!"

Valyrym glanced back at Krek, who was slinking forward with Ayly on his back. “Do you know what language he's speaking?"

The gryphon shook his head. “I haven't the faintest idea what he's babbling about."

“I'm babbling about the fact this story's gonna be called, The Coyote Goes to Court for Trademark Infringement!" He growled, rubbing his thumb against the word “evil" on the cover. “Lemme just…rearrange a few of these letters." The comic sans font loosened up, and The Coyote dragged the “e" to the end of the word. “There. The Vile Dead's probably not trademarked. Erm…let's…just be safe." He traced his finger against the cover, drawing a few more letters. “Ah hah! Santa Claus Vs the Vile Undead!"

“That sounds terrible." Asterbury scrunched his muzzle.

“But it won't get us sued!" He took a deep breath, and gave a long, frustrated sigh. “You found this on fanfiction.net? Guess that explains why Rudolph's in a gay relationship with Comet. And why Santa has a fortress…" He lifted his voice across the snow, to where Rudolph and Amaleen were investigating the area around the other dead reindeer. “You said Santa was looking at books right before all this happened?"

The reindeer nodded.

“I'mma gonna hazard a guess one of them had a face on it." The Coyote shoved the book back against Asterbury's chest. “Cause in the Ev…in…that series…it's always the Necronomicon…wait, is that trademarked? Look. We gotta find Santa and…destroy that book. I think. So, wherever Santa is…that's where we should go. Also, Rudolph, Amaleen? Don't stand so close to that body. Everyone who dies ends up coming back as a deadite…no, wait, that's probably trademarked too." The Coyote tapped a finger against his muzzle. “They come back as some vile undead."

Asterbury took a few steps towards Rudolph and Amaleen. “I'd say you have about…ten seconds before reanimation."

As Rudolph and Amaleen scrambled away from the corpse, The Coyote pointed at it. “Asterbury, make yourself useful for once and go deal with that."

“Be glad too!" Asterbury rubbed his hands together, then glanced up at The Coyote, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Hold my beer, watch this!" He shoved a beer can into The Coyote's chest and jogged across the snow.

The Coyote stared at the can, ears flattened. “Where the hell did you get a beer?"

As Asterbury ran across the snowy ground, he shoved his hands back into his robe. Just as the reindeer started shaking, rising back up on broken legs, Asterbury yanked a red chainsaw out of his robe. With a manic cackle, he yanked the cord and it roared to furious life. The undead caribou floated up towards the sky, its ruined body contorted at odd angles. Asterbury leapt up to meet it, bringing the chainsaw's racing blade straight into its head. In one single, gory stroke, the chainsaw cut all the way through the deer's corpse, slicing it completely in half from head to tail. Blood sprayed everywhere, soaking Asterbury and turning the snow scarlet. Two even halves of caribou flopped back to the ground, twitching.

The Coyote blinked. “How is that even possible? I don't think that blade is long enough to-"

“Now that's what I call a split decision!" Cackling, Asterbury whirled around after landing, the chainsaw still growling. “No, wait, I got something better! Splitting headache? No…of two minds? No, I got it! Lemme just rewind-"

“Just stop, Asterbury."

Asterbury grumbled under his breath, shoving the chainsaw back under his robe. “I was gonna, I'm the Christmas Party cut up!"

“That's not any better." The Coyote padded over to him, tilting his head. “Just what else have you got under that robe?"

“Why, the whole infinite cosmos, of course! And a few party favors." He bounced on his toes, grinning. “And my balls!"

“Which are gonna kicked into the infinite cosmos if you keep this shit up." The Coyote jabbed Asterbury's muzzle with a finger, then grimaced at the sticky blood still coating. “Clean yourself up."

“What am I, your disrespected hooker?" Asterbury waved a hand across his body, wiping away the blood in an instant. “You make me sick, Coyote!"

“Speaking of making people sick, you know we have a hatchling with us, don't you?"

Asterbury pirouetted across the snow, cackling. “It's not my fault you made her part of core cast of this Christmas stories! I just wanted to give you a fun holiday adventure to make up for last year's troubles!"

“What part of this says fun, or holiday, to you?"

Asterbury tilted his head. “It's got reindeer!"

“Most of them are zombies trying to murder us!"

“It's got snow, too!"

“Which is now covered in blood, from the zombie reindeer trying to murder us!"

“Picky, picky, picky." Asterbury skipped back towards Valyrym, now joined by Amaleen and Rudolph. “It's alright, Coyote, I know why you're cranky." He lowered his voice to a whisper, speaking behind his hand to Valyrym. “No one's jingled his bells lately!"

“I'm gonna stuff you in a stocking, and beat you with another stocking, filled with coal!"

“That's all you got?" Asterbury spread his arms out, grinning at the coyote. “You gotta do better than that if you wanna threaten someone like a real villain. You gotta be a little shocking, a little repulsive. You shoulda said…" He twisted his voice till it sounded exactly like The Coyote's. “I'm gonna stuff you in a stocking, and drown you like an unwanted kitten!"

“Whoa!" The Coyote threw his hands up. “Not cool, you little shit."

“For what it's worth, I don't support such things…" He turned towards Valyrym, wagging a finger. “Though, I have drowned someone. Wouldn't work on me, though. See, I'm not so much functionally immortal as literally immortal. And even when I die, I just-" He snapped his jaws shut, then glanced back at The Coyote. “Wait, is my godhood a spoiler?"

The Coyote rubbed his head, groaning. “I'm not sure, but you're giving me a headache."

“You made him a god?!" Valyrym jerked his head up. “What the hell, Coyote? I go through almost literal hell, I lose the ones I love, I rot in a dungeon, and meanwhile, you make this wicked little shit a god?"

“Oh, careful, dragon." Asterbury's voice took on a sharp, dangerous edge. “I don't think you wanna have a 'whose been through worse' contest with me. I'll put some of my pain in your head, and you'll be begging for the simple comfort of a familiar dungeon."

“Both of you shut the fuck up!" The Coyote glanced at Ayly. “Yes, I swore, and yes, you can swear too. But only in your head!"

Ayly giggled, and made a face as she struggled to come up with the biggest, baddest swears she could think of.

“Ooooh, that's wrong, Ayly!" Asterbury cackled. “I like it!"

“First, Asterbury, you're not a god. Not exactly, anyway. I mean, you are sort of…" He waved his hand, clamping his jaw shut. “No. You're not gonna trick me into revealing spoilers. Second…can we stop wasting time, and just get on with this? I don't wanna spend my entire Christmas eve writing this story again. I managed to avoid that last year, so-"

“Wait…wait!" Rudolph gasped, staring at the canine with wide eyes. “You're writing this story? But…but…how can you…be in it…and be writing it…"

“That's a good question, Rudolph!" Asterbury patted his neck, smiling. “Coyote, why don't you explain to all of us exactly how the rules of this universe work? In detail."

“I got a better idea." The Coyote glared down at him, ears pinned. “Why don't you suck my big canine-" Then he spotted Ayly, staring up at him, and he gulped. “Uh…candy…cane, you…naughty rapscallion."

“Oh, I'd rather try and make Chocolate Strudel's candy cane melt, but if you insist, I could give it a go." Asterbury waggled a finger at him. “But are you sure we've got time for that, with this grand adventure set before us?"

Ayly bounced around in a circle. “I want candy canes too!"

“Oh, Coyote!" Asterbury clapped a hand to his muzzle. “The things you make her say!"

“She means an actual candy cane and you know it!" The Coyote picked Ayly up, and set her down on Krek's back, patting her head. “Here, ride Lellumgurb." He magicked a few candy canes into existence, and passed them to Ayly. “Here you go. This one's peppermint, and this one's tutti frutti."

“And they're both going to get stuck in my feathers!" Krek squawked, glaring at The Coyote. “You could have given her those and then put her on my back when she was done!"

“And you could have done a better job stopping Asterbury from trashing my house last year!"

“I was doing a fine job, till your old villain woman showed up and blasted me through a wall!"

“Oooh, Arala!" Asterbury clapped his hands. “I liked her! Gimme that magic cell phone, let's see what she's up to today."

“No. We're moving on with this stupid story. So where does this thing end?"

“Santa's Fortress, I believe!"

“Fine. Then that's where we're going." The Coyote turned to the dragon, and scrambled up onto Valyrym's back. “But we're flying! I'm not gonna take another forty pages to get there, and you're not gonna toss up sixteen more chapters of obstacles, either!"

“Oh, of course not!" Asterbury hopped onto Rudolph's back. “I'm helping you guys this year, remember? And you know why?"

“Don't say it!"

“OW!" Valyrym suddenly yelped, stumbling back. “I stepped on a jellyfish!" He hissed, glaring at the urd'thin. “Damn it, Asterbury!"

Asterbury cackled. “We're all best friends!"

***

“Oh, God, The Coyote's drunk!"

“I am not drunk!" The Coyote shifted atop Valyrym's back, grimacing. “Your scales are giving me a sore-"

“You are too drunk!" Asterbury jabbed a finger at him from Rudolph's back. “You couldn't even spell Rudolph just now when you were tying this!"

“I spelled it just fine, ya little asshole."

“Now you're swearing in front of children!" Asterbury sneered at him, his oversized ears pinned back. “You make me sick, you drunken monster." Then he sat up straighter, his voice infectiously cheerful. “Which means I like you even more!"

Valyrym curled his neck as he flew over the snow-covered tundra. “You being drunk doesn't make me drunk, does it?"

“What?" The Coyote shook his head. “No, of course not, how would it?"

“So you admit to being drunk!" Asterbury patted the back of Rudolph's neck, laughing.

“Because, if you're drunk…" Valyrym licked his muzzle, then scanned the ground beneath. “And you're writing this…that might make all of us drunk."

“It doesn't work that way." The Coyote sat back against the dragon, folding his arms. “And I admit nothing!"

“But, between scenes, were you or were you not out drinking rare, high alcohol Christmas beers with your father?" Asterbury swiveled his ears forward.

The Coyote grunted. “Okay, one of them was a Christmas beer. Called, 9 Ladies Dancing, by The Bruery. But the other-"

“Which brewery?"

“The Bruery."

“But what's it called?"

The Coyote sighed. “The Bruery."

“Yes, what's the brewery called?"

“The Bruery." The Coyote tugged his head tighter around his head, growling.

“So you keep saying, but what's the name of the brewery you were drinking?"

“I'm not doing this." The Coyote gnashed his sharp canine teeth. “I'm not playing Abbot and Costello, and we're not ripping off Whose On First. The name of the brewery is, The Bruery. Spelled B-r-u-e-r-y."

“That's a stupid name for a brewery." Valyrym flattened his spines, laughing.

“Yes, it is." The Coyote shoved his hands back into his pockets, leaning forward against the dragon's neck to hide his exposed muzzle from the winds and whipping snout. “But they make damn fine beer. Tonight I had their Christmas beer called Nine Ladies Dancing, it's brewed with cocoa and holiday spices and stuff. Then I had their imperial stout brewed with coffee. It's just called Share This: Coffee. It was pretty great."

“And now you're blasted!" Asterbury rubbed his hands together. “Which means I'll have to take your place as hero, and then we'll all-"

“Two beers is hardly blasted, Asterbury."

“But they were like, twelve percent alcohol!"

“Still, that's not blasted."

“And now you're drinking egg nog with rum in it!" Asterbury jagged a finger at the coyote.

“What are you, hiding under my bed watching me?"

“Yes! And I can't wait till you strip off for the shower."

“Ugh." The Coyote dragged a hand down his muzzle. “Why did I ever create you? Yes, I'm drinking egg nog with rum in it, but I'm hardly blasted."

“But think of your health, Coyote-"

“I do! Ninety nine percent of the fucking time! The only times I ever drink much anymore are conventions, and holidays." With a frustrated snarl, the coyote tugged on his sleeves, hiding his tan furred hands from the cold winds. “So cut me some fucking slack! This isn't supposed to be a sad Christmas story this year!"

“Alright, alright." Asterbury waved off The Coyote's complaint. “Let's talk about something else, then."

“Fine by me." He glanced over at Ayly, staring at him with wide eyes from atop Krek's back. “Sorry, Ayly, I didn't mean to yell. Or swear." He waved his hand at her, and a big bottle of egg nog designed for a little dragon's muzzle appeared between her forepaws. “There, try not to spill it all on Krek."

“I'd prefer she not spill any of it on Krek if its all the same to you." The gryphon warbled, clicking his beak. “And how come you get your species capitalized nowadays, and I don't?"

“Because." The Coyote smiled at the gryphon. “Last year, or the year before, I decided that The Coyote was gonna be my name in these stories. Cause I wasn't gonna use my real name, and didn't wanna give myself a fake name, so…The Coyote! That's who I am in this world."

“That's all very exciting." Asterbury leaned over the side of Rudolph as they shot across the North Pole's frozen landscape, in case anyone forgot where they were. “But we've far more important things to discuss."

The Coyote snorted and glanced over. “Such as?"

“Such as…" Asterbury swished a hand in the air, and snowflakes swirled around it. They coalescence into the shape of a man with a chainsaw on one hand, thrust up above his head. “Who gets to be Ash?"

“What?" The Coyote blinked, then shook his head. “No one you, ugly lump of ass coal."

Asterbury burst into laughter. “Oooh, that's a good one. But I mean it. Who gets to be Ash?"

“I mean it too. No one. No one gets to be Ash. This isn't the Evil Dead. I told you, I don't wanna get sued."

“Awww." Asterbury's ears drooped, and his voice sunk into a whimpering mutter. “But I've already got the chainsaw…" His ears perked up and he brightened again. “Can I at least be Ashterbury?"

“Uuuugggghhh." After a long groan, The Coyote sighed. “Fiiiine."

“Oh, goody! Now, which hand should I hold the chainsaw-"

“You gotta cut one off, first. Then you stick the chainsaw on your stump."

Asterbury scrunched up his muzzle, flattening his ears. “I'm not doing that."

“Guess you can't be Ashterbury then."

“But my hand'll just grow back, anyway."

“That's your problem….hey, look!" The Coyote pointed a finger past Valyrym's neck.

“That's Santa's

Looming through the snow up ahead was an immense, towering wall of ice. Peppermint battlements ran along the walkway at its top. Towers with the red and white stripes of candy canes occupied its corners, with colorful gumdrops topping their parapets. A long line of elves in bright green armor stood atop the ice wall, each holding bows that looked made of licorice. Beyond the wood stood the angular walls of a massive fortress that looked made of ice, gingerbread, candy and frosting.

“Aww, look how cute! They've got little licorice bows!" Valyrym laughed, pointing down

Several of the elves fired, and lines of blazing, red-orange fire split the sky on either side of the dragon, crackling through the air like lightning. Thunder followed in their wake.

“Holy ass crackers!" Valyrym banked away, hissing under his breath. “What the hell was that?"

“Holy ass crackers?" The Coyote slapped the back of Valyrym's neck. “Where the hell did you get that one?"

“Those are warning shots!" From below, one of the elves called out, his high pitched voice amplified by a megaphone. “Land before the gates, and declare your intent!"

“Do what he says!" The Coyote patted Valyrym's neck. “Why don't want to fight these little guys if we don't have too."

The three flying creatures all landed. The Coyote slowly dismounted Valyrym, glancing around. Where he imagined there should have been a road leading to the fortress' front gate, there was only snow, as if the winter storm was slowly wiping away existence itself. Blotches of red marred the snow here and there. Cracked bits of green armor and torn green cloth littered other sections of snow. As the others dismounted, The Coyote glanced back.

“Looks like they had a battle here…" He turned towards the reindeer. “Rudolph, tell them who we are, and that we're here to help."

Rudolph nodded, and walked towards the gate. “Hello! It's me, Rudolph!"

One of the elves called back. “You can fly over the wall. If the rest of the chase you, we'll shoot them down!"

“Okay, thanks!"

Rudolph leapt into the air, stardust in his wake. He ascended in a spiral, and soon, was circling above the fortress again.

“Oooooh!" Amaleen stomped a boot. “That dirty traitorous reindeer! I am so planting my boot in his Christmas bells again!"

“Rudolph!" The Coyote cupped his hands around his muzzle, calling up to the caribou. “Tell them who we are! We're here to help, remember?"

“Oh. Right." Rudolph waved a hoof at them. “These lunatics are here to help save Christmas! I think! One of them might have caused all of this. I'm not really sure! Oh! OH! Is that Comet? Comet! Comeeeeet!" Then Rudolph streaked down out of sight, behind the wall.

“Well, shit." The Coyote crossed his arms. “How about I just rip out a bunch of pages from that book, and we see where we end up at the end?"

“You there! Furry dog thing!" An elf called down to him, leaning over a gumdrop parapet. “Are you truly here to help us save Christmas?"

“Uh…" The Coyote shrugged, glancing up again. “Sure, why not."

“If that's true, then surely you can defeat…" He paused, dramatically, then thrust a finger through the air. “The Beast!"

“Oh, God." The Coyote heaved a sigh. “Fine, fine…where is it?" He blinked, then shook his head. “Nevermind, I already know it's behind me."

The Coyote turned around just in time to see a hideous, malformed deadite…, no he better not use that word, just in case. He tried again.

The Coyote turned around just in time to see a hideous, malformed-

“Hey, why don't we just call it a deady?" Asterbury tapped his foot against the snowy ground. “That can't be trademarked, right?"

“Yeah…" The Coyote scratched at his muzzle. “Yeah, alright. Deady. Lemme start again."

“Oh, sure, you get to rewind things whenever you want, but whenever I try, its 'oh, Asterbury, stop doing evil things, you evil villain…"

Ignoring the rambling Urd'thin, The Coyote started the paragraph over. He turned around just in time to see a hideous, malformed deady rising from the snow. It looked like a cross between a long dead female yeti, and someone's psychopathic grandmother. Actually, have you seen ever seen the movies this keeps referencing? Or the TV show? That undead granny down in the cellar. It looked kinda like that, rotten breasts and all, only with dirty, blood-matted fur, and-

“Wow, you really are drunk!"

“Shut up, Asterbury. I'm tired, that's all. And-holy shit!"

Behind everyone, the undead monstrosity's head suddenly stretched away from its body, it's neck long, serpentine, and glistening. Its tusked face waved back and forth, hissing. “I'll swallow your soul!"

“No!" The Coyote strode towards it. “You can't say that!"

The thing swung its disgusting head towards the coyote, hatred flashing in its milky white eyes. “I'll swallow your soul! I'll swallow your soul, I'll swallow your soul!"

“No!" The Coyote held up his hands. “Seriously, that's probably trademarked. You're gonna have to say something else…" He scratched his muzzle. “Try spirit?"

The deady tilted its hideous head. “I'll swallow your spirit?"

“No…" The Coyote scratched his muzzle. “That's not as scary. It doesn't sound quite right. I think it needs to sound closer to soul than that. Needs a shorter word."

“How about load?" Asterbury cackled.

“I'll swallow your load!" The shambling horror trudged the snow towards The Coyote, black drool dribbling down its chin. “I'll swallow your load, I'll swallow your load, I'll swallow your load!"

“WHOA!" The Coyote threw up both hands, backing away. “You absolutely cannot say that! We have a hatchling, present!"

The thing cackled that same, hideous, undead laughter as the reindeer from before. “I'll swallow your load!"

“Well, if you insist." Asterbury strode forward, opening up his robe.

“Asterbury!" The Coyote thrust a finger at him. “Absolutely not! This is not that kind of story this year. And really, that thing? God good, that's wrong even by your standards."

“Any port in a storm, amirite?"

“No! You're definitely wrong."

“I'll swallow your load!" The abominable deady surged at Asterbury, flashing jagged, broken teeth, and razor honed claws.

Asterbury only smiled, reaching into his robe. “I got some sugar for ya, baby!"

In a single, smooth motion, the Urd'thin leapt into the air, yanked his chain saw free and fired it up. Just as the monster's head shot for his crotch, Asterbury swept his chainsaw's roaring blade through the air, decapitating the beast in a single stroke. Black ichor sprayed all over his fur and across the snow. The head spun through the air, straight for Krek, where Ayly leapt up and batted it away with her forepaws. It toppled to the ground near Valyrym, who crushed it with a hard stomp beneath a forepaw.

“Huh…" The Coyote dusted off his hands. “That wasn't so hard."

“Speak for yourself!" Asterbury cackled, shoving his chainsaw back under his robe. “I'm getting' rigid, over here! Gonna get blue-"

“I'm gonna mute you for the rest of the story if you don't give it a rest, you furry little perv." The Coyote turned away, calling out to the elves. “There! We have slain your beast! Now grant us entrance! We have to meet with Santa, and help him save Christmas!"

The elves above the gate exchanged worried glances, but soon, the heavy gate was opening. As soon as there was room, The Coyote scrambled through. The others followed him. He found himself in the courtyard between the outer walls, and the sprawling, inner keep that was Santa's fortress. Nearby, amidst clusters of snow-covered pine trees, sat a battered sleigh. A bubble-like canopy covered much of it, akin to what he'd always imagined a pope-mobile to look like. Elves carrying swords with the red and white stripes of candy canes trotted forward. Up on the canopies, more elves pointed undersize RPGs down at them.

“Holy shit!" The Coyote pointed up at them. “Those elves are…rocket propelled grenades! This is wildly inconsistent!"

Asterbury shrugged as he walked up alongside the canine. “Like I said, it's fan fiction!"

“Are you really here to save Christmas?" An elf strode up to him, his emerald armor marked with golden rank insignia on each shoulder. Boots with elegantly curled toes adorned his feet. Beneath his adorable little helmet, his ageless face showed no sign of wrinkles, but fresh pain in his eyes. “Do you speak the truth in this?"

“Awww, look Asterbury, he's only as tall as you are!" The Coyote laughed, nudging the urd'thin with his elbow.

“I'm taller than him!" Asterbury huffed, folding his arms over his chest. “Probably. Slightly."

The Coyote glanced down at the elf. “Oh, ah…yeah. That's why we're here."

“Then I fear…as difficult as this is to day…" The Elf took a long, deep breath, then let out a shuddering sigh. His voice wavered, and tears shone in his eyes. “You…you may have to…slay Santa."

“What?" The Coyote glanced around, and everyone shrugged.

“We fear whatever madness he's found in that book has consumed him. He's locked himself away in his inner sanctum, and-"

“Yeah, great, cool, whatever." The Coyote turned to face his friends. “You guys up for killing Santa, or something?"

“You need not sound so nonchalant about it!" The little elf stomped his foot, a hand resting on the hilt of his Candy Cane sword.

The Coyote glanced back at him. “Look, Squeaky. You and your little curly shoes may be King Shit around the other elves, but I run this story and I'm…" He trailed off, shrugging. “I forgot where I was going with this." He scratched his muzzle, then scowled at Asterbury. “As much as I admit it, I think you're right. I'm kinda drunk."

“Wonderful!" The elf threw his hands up over his head. “Our whole kingdom, nay, the very existence of Christmas itself is in the grubby paws of some drunken dog-man!"

“Hey! I'm a coyote, you little candy-scented midget!"

“Oh, wonderful!" He turned around to the other elves, waving at The Coyote. “He's nothing but a scavenger!"

“Oh, that's it!" The Coyote snarled, advancing on the elf. “I'm sick and tired of hearing that today! I'm about to scavenge your ass!"

Everyone went silent. The elves all looked at each other. The Coyote's friends did the same. Valyrym cleared his throat with a growl. Amaleen pressed her lips together. Asterbury grinned up at him, his ears perked.

“That come out the way you wanted, Coyote?" Asterbury's grin widened. “Gonna go scavenging, are you? See what you can find in there?"

“Oh, shut up."

“Hey, maybe you'll find DitD 11 in there! Or Black Collar 3!" Asterbury blinked, and shook his head. “Oh, my mistake, you pull those stories out of your ass!"

The Coyote sighed, waving his hand. “I can't deal with this. You know what? I'mma go check on Rudolph. Then we'll go kill Santa or…whatever, so we can end this and get home to my Christmas party."

As The Coyote walked off, Asterbury followed at his side. “Aren't you glad you brought me along?"

“No!" The Coyote snarled at him. “I was all set to just have…a little, ten page Christmas party scene again, kind of like the first Christmas story, but then-"

“But them, you wrote twenty pages about going for your IV! And what a thrill I'm sure that was! Now you've got to balance it with even more story about all us best friends! And you're already worried the story sucks, compared to the last couple years. You know you can never top Pictures in the Snow, so now you're just hurling whatever dumb idea you've got at the screen, hoping it'll entertain someone for at least a little while."

“That's…not exactly…hey, Rudolph!" Eager to get away from Asterbury and his attempted insights into the Coyote's life, he crossed the courtyard to where he'd spotted the red-nosed reindeer nuzzling a slightly larger male reindeer. “Is that Comet?"

“Huh?" Rudolph jerked his head away from nuzzling the other deer, then smiled at The Coyote and company. “Hey, guys. This is Comet! My…uh…um…well…yanno…"

“Your boyfriend." The Coyote grinned, giving Comet a wave. “Nice to meet you."

“What?" Rudolph's eyes went wide, glancing back and forth between the two of them. “Well…I mean…yes, but…" He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Not so loud!"

“Yeah, I'm sure all those elves are really in the dark." The Coyote laughed, shaking his head.

Asterbury grinned, waving at Rudolph's face. “What, the deer with the bright red nose who want to join in all their weird little reindeer games has a boyfriend? Shocking! Why, it's just like the furry convention all over again…"

“Alright, Asterbury, that's enough."

“Look at you, bein' all shy." Comet nibbled Rudolph's neck, laughing. “Bet you aren't so shy later when I've got my muzzle buried between your-"

“Comet!" Rudolph turned his head, glaring at his mate.

“Oooh, bet his nose really turns red then!" Asterbury rubbed his hands together, cackling.

Comet shrugged, flicking his little tail. “Couldn't tell ya. I'm usually focused on something else red."

“Oh, God." The Coyote rubbed his forehead. “This really is fanfiction, isn't it."

“Yeah, your comedy's taken a real…" Asterbury swooped his hand through the air, then nose-dived it into his other hand, and made a fart sound. “A real shit on the floor."

“What?" The Coyote lifted his head again. “That's not a saying."

“It could be."

“No, it couldn't. No one says, wow, that's a real shit on the floor."

“They might."

“They do not!" The Coyote smacked the back of one hand into his palm. “No one goes to a bad movie, and comes out saying, boy, that was a real shit on the floor."

“Maybe they should!"

“No, no one should ever say that."

Asterbury folded his arms, grinning. “Well, I'll admit it's no 'really knocks your glasses off', but it I think it might catch on."

“Ugh…God." The Coyote sat down on a bench made out of gingerbread, leaning his head back. “Why do I do this?"

“See, now that's the question." Asterbury flopped onto the bench next to him. “Why do you do this?"

“People expect a Christmas story." The Coyote waved his hand, staring up at the falling snow. “I can't…not give them one."

“Sure you can." Asterbury drummed his fingers against the bench's armrest. “You just don't post one."

“No…" The Coyote sighed and shook his head. “No, I can't do that now…This is…this is gonna be the fifth year in a row I've done this. People…people expect it, now. It's part of their Christmas."

“It is not." Asterbury snorted, glancing away.

“It is!" The Coyote sat up, determination shining bright in his eyes. “It really is. A few weeks ago, I was reading through comments on the older Christmas stories, especially the last couple. I saw people…" He licked his muzzle, a smile spreading over his lips. “I saw people saying that…that my Christmas stories had become part of their personal holiday traditions. Not lot, but…but even just a few, do you know what that means? Its…it's as if…even something stupid and silly I slap together in a couple of days has become…become meaningful to someone." He rubbed his hands together, shaking his head. “That…that means something to me. To have…to have people who…who look forward to these stories, this time of year, the way I look forward to pretending its snowing, when I write them. I can't…I can't just leave these people hanging, I can't let their new tradition end, just cause…just cause I'm busy, or tired, or working on other projects. I have to do this! I want to do this! It's…it's part of my Christmas tradition now, too."

“You see?" Asterbury leaned back against the bench, smiling. “That's why I came."

“Wh-what?" The Coyote blinked, turning his head to look at the urd'thin.

“I told you. I felt bad about last year." He waved a hand at The Coyote, then back at himself. “You and I…we barely knew each other last year. You still thought you'd have Revaramek done as a single novel. I'd only been in it a short while, and…just writing me into your Christmas tale, you learned a lot more about me, about what I can do. And since then…we've really…discovered who each other truly is." He tilted his head back, gazing up at the clouds. For a little while, the snow froze in place all around them. The clouds parted, revealing a night sky, and an endless spiral of stars.

“You know me well enough to know that somewhere in side me, there's a cute little pup, trying to drag me back from all that darkness. And that pup and I…we're in agreement, for once. We wanted you to have a Merry Christmas…and I know that…that these stories. They mean something to you, now. They let you share your life with your fans, with your readers, they let you throw down whatever crazy idea you have in your head…You like to give your reader a glimpse of the person behind the stories, and then you like to cover that person in snow and craziness when they emotions get too strong. And this Christmas, for the first time in at least a few years, you're doing alright. Sure, you've got your stresses…worried about your friends and drama that sometimes wraps itself around them, worried about your health, as always…worried about this submission project you're working on, and how you might to report the income, if it succeeds…I know that terrifies you, but at heart? You're as at peace right now as I've known you to be. You're in a good place, Coyote, no matter how much your body tries to fall apart or all the little worries try to stick their claws in your brain and pull you apart. Mentally speaking…you're unusually strong lately."

Asterbury smiled, tilting his head back. “Strong enough that you didn't even have any difficult moments to try and base one of these stories around, like you did with Pictures in the Snow. And last year, you knew you couldn't top that, so you just went…as far into the abyss of your mind as you could! But this year? You're in a good place, you went to a furry con in the snow, and that left you happy…and you just…" Asterbury swirled his finger in the air, and the spiral of stars turned in the sky above them. “You just didn't know what to do for this year's Christmas story. But you still wanted to post one, wanted to give your fans that look at your life, wanted to tell them…at least for that one, peaceful, joyful day a year…you were alright." Asterbury clapped his hands together, laughing. “Lucky for you, along came your old pal Asterbury, and here you are, off on another Christmas adventure. I couldn't make it snow for you in the real world, but I could damn sure make it snow in your Christmas-verse." He reached up and squeezed the Coyote's shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Coyote. Feel free to thank me later."

“You sneaky little shit." The Coyote shook his head, incredulous.

“You can thank Vakaal." He tapped his head, near one of his horns. “It was his idea. So! The Question remains. How do we end this grand adventure, where we're all best friends?"

“Umm…guys?" Rudolph trotted over, his ears perked. “Comet says-"

“If you two wanna go off and bang for the rest of the story, that's fine." Asterbury waved at him, grinning. “Go enjoy your reindeer sex games."

The Coyote sneered, half his muzzle curling up. “Why is it every time I feel like I wanna hug you, Asterbury, you do something else that makes me wanna slap the crazy outta your muzzle?"

“Because I do that on purpose, so I don't have to be hugged by some trash-smelling dumpster diver!"

“If that's your attitude I oughta punch you in the popcorn balls instead." The Coyote sighed, glancing at Rudolph. “What is it, buddy?"

“Comet says that he came back here looking for Santa, after the attack, only to find out that while he got here safe…" He waved a hoof towards the crashed, but intact, sleigh. “He left flying on some other reindeer, with black fur, and glowing red eyes. Carrying a creepy looking book…"

“That's right." Comet trotted up alongside Rudolph. “I've seen that deer before. Pretty sure he actually works for the Easter Bunny. Now I have this terrible feeling that he-"

“Okay, okay." The Coyote held up his hands. “What is it with you two and the Easter Bunny?"

Comet spat. “That guy's an asshole. He's always trying to take down Santa and take his place as the High Holiday Spirit. You see, the more people believe in a spirit, the stronger their power grows, and Santa is-"

“Nevermind." The Coyote waved him off. “I can't be bothered to learn about the world-building in someone's crappy fanfiction." He held a hand out to Asterbury. “Let see that book."

“Sure thing, old pal." Asterbury stuck a hand into his robe. “Lemme whip this out 'atcha!"

“No, I don't wanna see that." The Coyote cringed and turned away.

“Not that. This!" The urd'thin pulled the book free and waggled it in the air. “What was that, a Blazing Saddles reference?"

“Yup!"

“Do you just have a clicker handy, to keep track of how many references you're cramming into this thing?"

“No, but that's not the worst idea I even heard. Now gimme that book."

Asterbury plopped it into The Coyote's hand. “Gonna see what we're supposed to do next?"

“Not exactly." The Coyote paged through it, trying to catch up with the plot. “Pretty sure we're meant to go follow Santa, but also pretty sure we'll fail to stop him from…" He trailed, skimming a few pages. “Yeah, here it is. So…Ash follows on Rudolph's back, along with Comet, and they go to prevent Santa and…ugh, that black deer's name is Obsidian."

“Could be worse." Asterbury shrugged, kicking his feet as they hung off the bench. “Could have been, Shadow or something."

“Guess so. Anyway, so…Santa and Obsidian are both corrupted by the Necronomicon, and it's turned Santa evil." He flipped through a few more pages. “Blah blah blah, raise an undead army to kill everyone on the naughty list-"

Rudolph gasped. “But you're on the naughty list, for all those swears!"

“And for masturbating!" Asterbury cackled.

Rudolph gasped again, so loud he ended up wheezing. “That puts you on the naughty list!?"

“Oh, suck my furry balls, Ruldoph." The Coyote snorted.

“Oh, he likes doing that." Comet burst into laughter.

“Shut up!" Rudolph huffed, then lifted a hind leg, shaking it and cringing. “Speaking of, mine are still sore no thanks to your friend! That's gonna put her on the naughty list, too!"

“Actually…" The Coyote closed the book, using his finger to keep his page saved. “That's a good idea…"

“What? She's not gonna kick them again, is she?" Rudolph glanced at Amaleen, then backed away from her.

Comet laughed even harder. “Oooh, she got you in the gumdrops? That musta been hilarious!"

Ignoring them, The Coyote glanced down at Asterbury. “So, the way I see it, we're probably all at the top of his naughty list, right? Especially if…I dunno…trash this place or something? Then he comes back with his undead army, planning to murder us, and we…I dunno, kill him or something, and Christmas is saved."

“But doesn't Christmas need a Santa?"

“Probably." The Coyote opened up the book again. “We'll just find Tim Allen, and stick him in a fake beard. He did three movies as Santa Claus, that's gotta be qualification enough for the real deal, right?"

Asterbury folded his arms. “Not in the least, but it sure as hell won't hurt my feelings any if you strand Tim Allen in someone else's bad fanfiction."

“Works for me!" The Coyote returned the book to the page they were on. “Okay, everyone, gather 'round."

Everyone in the story padded over. Valyrym and Amaleen approached the bench, and Comet and Rudolph made room. Krek pushed up alongside the dragon, with little Ayly clinging to his back. Next to the bench, a large, animate piece of garlic naan bread with a face sat up, leaning in close to listen to the discussion.

The Coyote glanced over, shaking his head. “Not you, Naan Bread."

“Awww." Naan Bread lay back down.

Asterbury flicked his ears back. “Mighty Boosh?"

“Yup!" The Coyote laughed, wagging his tail.

“God." Asterbury bared a few fangs. “This has to be the highest percentage of nerdy, obscure references you've crammed into one story." He swished a hand in the air. “Gonna need a pop culture encyclopedia to decode this year's tale. You're like the Venture Brothers, only not funny!"

“I'm funny sometimes." The Coyote glared at the urd'thin, then glanced around at everyone else. “Okay, so, here's the plan. Santa went bad, and we gotta kill him. Also, there's an evil reindeer." He glanced at the book, muzzle scrunched. “I guess. Or something. There's a whole subplot there that I haven't followed. But, this story's mostly filler anyway, so…I'm just gonna skip to the end. Any objections?"

Everyone shook their heads.

“Okay, great." The Coyote flipped through the book, pausing near the end. He grasped all the excess pages, then glanced up at everyone. “Hold onto your butts." He wagged his tail, whispering to Asterbury. “Jurassic Park."

“What are you, on a quota?"

Ayly growled. “No one hold onto my butt, that's a no-no touch!"

The Coyote snorted. “Okiedokie, here we go!" He smirked at Asterbury. “Hannibal. The movie. Oooh, but the show was soo much better. Heh, I gave you some lines from it! Any time you reference 'good, funny times', that's from the Hannibal TV show!"

“God, how drunk are you right now?" Asterbury hopped up onto his feet on the bench. “You're just spouting random references, it's like you're stuck in a loop! What are you, a Host from Westworld? Oh, god, now you're making me do it! Are you secretly stuck searching for the maze? Well, it's not meant for you! Because, spoiler alert, the maze only leads to-"

“Don't spoil it!" The Coyote covered up Asterbury's muzzle with a hand. “Lots of my readers haven't seen it yet."

Asterbury snatched the book away from The Coyote. “Fine! But if you won't skip us ahead to the end, I will!" He snatched up the last third of the book's pages, leaving just a few for the ending. Then with a snarl of effort, he tore them all out, and tossed them into the air.

***

All at once, the world tore itself into a thousand pieces all around them. Every piece of existence flew in another direction, leaving only the infinite, snow-white stillness of limbo behind them. Moments of existence, frozen forever in place, fluttered through the nothingness like dry leaves in the wind. They swirled, and spun, dancing around one another on unseen currents of time.

Slowly, bit by bit, a few moments of reality fell back into place. Like a picture puzzle, they shuffled around each other, totally out of order at first. Limbs in the wrong place. The earth above the sky. Snow falling upside down. But with each passing moment, they better arranged themselves until at last, the scene was restored, dropping everyone near the very end of the story.

The Coyote wobbled, footsteps echoing off tall, icy walls. He put a hand to his head, groaning. “That was…not…the smartest way…to skip to the end."

As he regained his senses, he gazed around. They were inside now, in the inner sanctum of Santa's fortress from the looks of things. Walls of ice and peppermint towered above them, with a ring of crystalline windows overlooking the courtyard, and the north pole beyond. Flatscreen monitors flashed warnings, motion detection systems were filled with countless blips. An alarm system repeatedly called out a perimeter breech. On the floor nearby, Santa lay dead, a pistol made out of hard candy in his hand. Blood pooled beneath him.

“What the hell?" The Coyote stared at the dead body a moment, jaw hanging open. “What'd we miss? Did Santa off himself?"

Asterbury picked up the gun, spinning around his fingers. “I'd say he came to his senses just in time to realize he'd unleashed hell upon the north pole, ruined his beloved Christmas forever, and couldn't live with it." He shrugged. “But hey, we were gonna kill him anyway, right?"

“Uh…yeah, I guess so." The Coyote gazed around again. “So let's see…what else do we need to catch up on before we go to battle with this undead army?"

Turning and surveying the room, he spotted Krek near a doorway. The gryphon was stretched out on his belly, with blood caking his beak and front paws. The Coyote's heart raced, and he hurried over to see what happened to the gryphon. As he drew closer, he saw a few pairs of hooves on the ground. Bits of fur and hide were scattered about. The bloodied remnants of a glowing red nose rested not far away. Krek belched and sprawled out, sighing in satisfaction.

“Krek!" The Coyote skidded to a halt. “You ate Rudolph? What the hell!"

“I did what now?" The gryphon blinked up at The Coyote, confusion swirling in his green eyes. “Last thing I remember is Asterbury ripping up the book…" He looked down, spotted the reindeer's remains, and gave a keening squeal. “AAAEEEHHH!"

“You ate Rudolph!"

“I ate Rudolph?!" Krek jumped to his paws.

“Why did you eat Rudolph?"

“Why did I eat Rudolph?" Krek glanced from rent hoof, to rent hoof. “I don't even remember eating him!"

“This is a disaster!" The Coyote grabbed Krek's ear, twisting. “You can't be eating Santa's reindeer! I think him and Comet were the only survivors! Oh, God, where's Comet?"

Valyrym belched.

The Coyote whirled around. “Did you eat Comet?"

Valyrym cocked his head, flattening his ears back. “What? No! I was over here, I think…" He blinked, tilting his head as he tried to remember what happened in the scenes they skipped. “I…I think I was talking Santa into…" He waved his paw at the corpse of the jolly dead fat man.

“Why the hell would you do that?" The Coyote screamed, fighting the urge to start tearing out his fur. “If he broke the Necronomicon's hold, he could have helped us!"

“How should I know why I did it?" Valyrym flicked his claws out at Asterbury. “Everyone's best friend here ripped out all the scenes with our motivations and justifications!"

“Okay, just so I'm clear…" Asterbury held up both hands to the dragon. “We do agree I'm everyone's best friend, right?"

“Not now, Asterbury." The Coyote snarled. “Okay, I'm gonna have to…fix this."

Valyrym shrugged his wings, staring at the urd'thin. “Well, there was that time on the beach…"

“Where you stepped on the jelly fish!" Asterbury gave a happy laugh.

“That's it!" The Coyote clapped his hands. “Quick, Asterbury! Flash us back to that time Krek ate Rudolph. Only…keep us there! But make sure we're there in time to stop him."

“Can do, best buddy." Asterbury cleared his throat, turning on his heel to give everyone a big smile. “Hey gang. Remember that time when Krek was about to eat poor Rudolph?"

***

Krek snarled, backing the shivering reindeer up against the wall. “I'm going to eat you!"

“But…but what?!" Terror rang out in Rudolph's voice.

“Because of all the important reasons that were so carefully plotted and outlined the last scene, right before all this!"

The Coyote leapt in front of Krek, and slapped him hard across the beak. “No! Bad gryphon! We don't eat Rudolph!"

Krek squawked in pain, flopping onto his haunches and rubbing his beak. “Ow! That hurt! But, in the last scene, it was you who said-"

“Forget the last scene! Besides, that was written for…well, probably not Ash, but…I dunno, maybe he's got a dog or something. Oh! Now we can save-" A loud bang cut him off, followed by the sound of a heavy body hitting the floor. He pinned his ears back. “Nevermind."

“We could flash back to that time we saved-"

“No!" The Coyote waved Asterbury off. “Let's just…get this over with." He turned and peered at some of the monitors. “Rudolph, Comet, what's all this crap mean?"

Rudolph, casting a wary glance at Krek, hurried over to the Coyote's side. “These are defense monitors! Oooh…Oh now, look at them all! All the poor elves, and the other reindeer tribes, and…the yetis, and everything else…Santa and Obsidian have corrupted them all! They've turned them into some kind of…undead legion. Like an army. An army of-"

“Don't say it!"

“It's some kind of…army of darkness!"

The Coyote sighed, shaking his head. “You idiots are just determined to get me sued, aren't you. Okay, so…I'm thinking, basically we just kill them all and go home. Everyone good with that?"

Everyone voiced their agreement, and Amaleen stepped forward. “So, Val's got his fire, and claws, Krek's got his talons, you and Asterbury have your…" She waved her hand. “Powers. But…" She glanced down at her boots. “Much as I enjoy using these on deserving things, not everything out there's gonna be male, and even if it is…I rather doubt it'll have the same affect on anything zombified."

“Good point." The Coyote turned towards Asterbury. “You got anything under that robe that'll help out?"

“Oh…" An immense grin split the urd'thins muzzle, his ears perking. He rubbed his hands together. “I think I got you covered. I think I've got us all covered." Asterbury pushed a hand into his robe, felt around, and yanked out a massive, and rather old fashioned looking firearm. He shoved it into Amaleen's chest, grinning. “Here ya go, Bossy!"

The Coyote blinked. “Is that…a Thompson?"

“Sure is!" Asterbury shook his robe, and dozens of drum magazines clattered to the floor. He picked one up, waggling it. “I've got box magazines if you prefer, but drums just look so gangsta."

“Prohibition gangster, maybe." The Coyote folded his arms.

Asterbury reached for the gun with his free hand. “Lemme show you how to use it."

Amaleen snatched the magazine away and retracted the bolt, then slid the drum magazine into place. “I know how to use a Tommy Gun."

The Coyote's jaw dropped. “Where the hell did you learn that?"

“From television, of course." Amaleen walked to the nearest crystalline window, peering outside. “Here they come."

“I am so cutting you all off from TV next year." The Coyote crouched down, and patted Ayly's head. “Ayly, whenever Amaleen yells, reload, you carry her one of these, okay?" He pointed to the drum magazines. Then he stood back up, turning to face Asterbury. “So what else you got hiding under there?" He blinked, and thumped Asterbury on the chest. “For the battle."

“If things go well, it won't be much of a battle." Asterbury swished a hand in the air. “More of a, merry holiday slaughter. But for you? Oooh, I've got something that's really gonna fatten up your stocking."

“I'm…I'm not sure I wanna unpack that metaphor."

“Just stand back." Asterbury waited till The Coyote moved aside, then reached into his robe again. He felt around a while, his expression changing from confused to shocked to delighted, ears alternatively splayed, flattened, and then perked. “Oooooh, yeah, there it is."

“If you've playing pocket pool in there-"

“I haven't even got my hands in my pockets!"

“Robe billiards?"

Asterbury grunted, and gradually pulled free the largest gun The Coyote had ever seen. It was almost as big as he was, with multiple barrels, and a long belt feeder system. A few red bows were tied around it. “Now, I know how much you love Terminator…"

“You got me a minigun?!" The Coyote bounced in glee, his tail wagging.

“Merry Christmas, ya loveable mutt!" Asterbury shoved the minigun into The Coyote's arms.

“YAAAAY-AAARRPP!" The massive weapon's weight immediately bore the coyote to the ground. “H-heavy!"

“Oh, quit yer complaining, they're not really handheld weapons, yanno! They're usually mounted on aircraft and things. Just Christmas-up yourself some strength!"

Still wagging his tail, The Coyote did just that. He stood back up, hefting the oversized weapon, then carried it towards the door leading to the overlook around the fortress tower. A long belt of ammo trailed behind him, feeding from a tiny box Asterbury placed on the floor. The box didn't look large enough to contain more than a few dozen rounds at most.

“Whatcha got back there, some kinda tardis action?"

Asterbury tilted his head. “I don't get that reference."

The Coyote snorted. “Liar." He tilted his head towards Valyrym and Krek. “What about them?"

“Hmmm…" He clapped his hands. “I've got it! Power armor!"

Valyrym lifted his spines, grinning. “That sounds exciting."

“Candy cane power armor!"

Krek squawked, shaking his head. “Oh, come on!"

Asterbury clapped his hands twice, and in an instant, both the dragon and the gryphon were encased in layers of red and white armor, bristling with licorice hydraulics, gingerbread rocket pods, brandy-burning thrusters, and sugar cookie cannons. They looked themselves over, then looked at each other, then at themselves again. After a long moment. Valyrym stretched his neck, and licked the side of Krek's candy cane plating.

Krek shoved his head away. “Don't lick my power armor!"

Asterbury flicked his fingers at the doorways to the overlook where Amaleen was. The doors opened, and grew large enough for both the armored dragon and gryphon to fit through. “Well? Gentlemen, destroy!"

Outside, Amaleen's Thompson crackled as she opened up on the first wave of corrupted Christmas icons. Rotten elf skulls popped, bullets tore through flying deer carcasses, and punched holes in shambling, undead yetis. Valyrym and Krek hurried outside, and took to the air, flying in opposite directions. Krek fired off a volley of gingerbread rockets. They screamed and buzzed through the air like furious hornets, each targeting another cackling reindeer. In a shower of blood and gumdrops, the rockets splattered their targets. Valyrym unleashed a torrent of sugar cookies, lopping of limbs and wreaking havoc on blood sugar levels.

The Coyote stared up for a few moments, watching. He flicked an ear back. “You weren't kidding. This really is fanfiction."

“Nothing but the best for you, Scavenger!"

“I'm…not sure if that's a compliment, or an insult…"

“It's both!" Asterbury waved at The Coyote's minigun. “Now…go on." A smile crept across Asterbury's muzzle. “I know you wanna say it."

“Yeah…" The Coyote hefted his weapon up over the balcony railing, dripping with stylized icicles. “Yeah, I kinda do."

“Then say it!"

The Coyote took a deep breath. “Asta lavista…" He paused for dramatic effect, then pulled the trigger, finishing as the weapon spun up. “Elves."

“And…you ruined it." Asterbury shook his head.

“Can't hear you!" The Coyote yelled over the cacophonous whirr of the minigun as it rained a constant stream of bullets down on the undead horde. “Busy being a badass!"

Nearby, Amaleen called out. “Reload!" Ayly ran her a new drum clip, and Amaleen popped it into place, then opened fire again.

Asterbury crouched down and strapped a tiny red gun to around Ayly's neck. “Here you go, pup! Just in case they close in."

“Yay! Hatchling gun!"

“Asterbury!" The Coyote let off the trigger for a moment to let the minigun cool. “Dragon children aren't called pups, and don't give Ayly a gun."

Asterbury bounced back up to his feet. “Oh, don't worry, it's only got one bullet!" He leaned in whispering into the Coyote's ear. “So she can pull a Santa before they eat her alive!"

“What?" The Coyote growled, his ears flattened back, tail fluffed. “I can't condone you putting that kind of idea in my hatchling's-"

“Oh, shut your trash can, you scavenging mongrel! It's a water pistol. I loaded it up with holy egg nog!"

The Coyote blinked. “Holy egg nog?"

“Yeah, it'll burn a hole right through those deadies. Tastes pretty good, too!" He clapped his hands. “Oh! Wait! Lemme give that line again. I wanna say, keep it in your sheath, instead!"

“Gross." The Coyote opened fire again, using the hornet-swarm roar of the minigun to drown out the urd'thin's second attempts.

Behind him, Asterbury slipped back inside for a moment, and went to the control system. He put his hand on it, filled it with his power, and then set it to broadcast audio. From his robe, he produced a crystalline tablet filled with music from his last visit to this world. And since he knew this story was being finished up on Christmas Eve, he flipped straight to the Christmas music. Then he cranked up the volume, and blasted Sleigh Ride as loud as the system would go.

He stepped back out onto the walkways, cackling. “Get it? Sleigh Ride? And we're slaying! Now…Let's see what Uncle Asterbury's got in his robe for you!" The urd'thin slipped a hand into his robes, then paused. “No, wait! Santa's about to sit on your lap! Hard! No…permanently!"

From the other side of the tower, The Coyote called back. “Futurama! …I think!"

As The Coyote circled the fortress' tower, he rained death down on the undead legions. His minigun blew elves apart, shredded reindeer, and cut the yetis to pieces. Spent cartridges clinked against each other, piling up in his wake. He just hoped he was shooting the bad guys, and not some poor Santa's helpers caught in the crossfire. The Coyote glanced up, watching Krek and Valyrym circle the place, dogfighting with undead reindeer. Their candy cane armor showed a few signs of damage, but nothing that would bring them down.

“Say hello to my little friend!" Asterbury's voice drew the Coyote's attention.

He glanced over at the urd'thin, then immediately wished he hadn't. “Close your robe, Asterbury! Put that thing away!"

“You missed a perfect chance to insult its size!" Cackling, Asterbury withdrew an immense shoulder mounted rocket launcher. “Your world has such fun toys!" He fired a rocket into a crowd of dead elves swarming over a barricade, blowing them to pieces.

The Coyote shook his head, and returned to firing on the advancing hordes. In the distance, still-living elves were firing thunderbolts from their licorice bows, incinerating enemy reindeer. A smile twisted at the Coyote's muzzle as he considered, just how ridicious this year's story really was. It was fun, though, he thought, firing his minigun through a wall of abominable snowmen nearly as large as those big cave trolls from Lord of the Rings.

Soon, their enemies' numbers were dwindling. “I think we got this!" The Coyote called out. “Just in time, too, I have Christmas Eve stuff to…" He trailed off as far below, splattered monstrosities began piecing themselves back together. “Aww, what the hell! They're supposed to stay dead! This is gonna take forever!"

“Foolish Ash!" A booming voice called out, echoing across the blood-soaked snow. “I have the Necronomicon! You cannot defeat my army, I shall overthrow Santa, and the Easter Bunny, and I, Obsidian, the deer no one wanted-"

“I don't care about your tragic backstory!" The Coyote turned to face the black deer, floating high above his minions. “And Santa's already dead! Oh, and Ash isn't here. We're sort of, handling his part together. Also, I got shit to do, man." The Coyote lowered his minigun a little. “Can you just give us that book so we can get this story over with? Otherwise, I'm gonna have, uh, yanno…" He glanced around at his friends. “Kill ya! And that's not very Christmasy." He peered over the edge. The dead littered the ground. “Guess it's a bit late to worry about a body count."

“Ash is…what?" The deer flew a little closer. “Who the hell are you?"

“I'm The Coyote."

“Is…is that anything like The Dude?"

“Hah!" The Coyote wagged his tail. “I wish…that guy's awesome! But I'm not looking to get a rug back, I just need the Necronomicon so I can get home. Man, that's a really hard word to spell." He glanced over at Asterbury. “Took me like, six tries to get it right just now."

“Yeah, that's a tough one."

“What are you…nevermind!" The Deer swept in closer, the book wrapped in flesh floating over his head. “I'll never turn it over to you, and as long as I have it, your bullets cannot harm me!"

“Oh…um….are you sure?" The Coyote lifted his minigun, spun it out, and fired a volley of rounds at the black reindeer. All of them bent around him, not a single one even ruffling his ebony fur. “Damn it." He released the trigger, glancing at the others. “Now what?"

Amaleen circled a finger in the air, mouthing the word, “stall". Another form flew through the air, moving in behind the black reindeer. The Coyote nodded, glancing up at Obsidian again. “So…uh…play any good reindeer games lately?"

The deer tilted his head. “What? …Gods, you idiots are worse than Ash. I don't think I'm even going to add you to my undead army when you've all been killed." He waved a hoof in the air, snarling. “I just want to be rid of you!"

Asterbury held a hand in the air, working it like a puppet. “All I hear is, blah, blah, blah, nobody loves me, I'm barely a peripheral character, and my plot has barely even been acknowledged in this entire story!" He glanced at The Coyote. “I'm making fun of you, by the way, not the reindeer."

Ignoring him, The Coyote glanced up at Obsidian. “Hey, Deer. So, I guess these bullets can't hit you, but what about unexpected hooves?"

“Huh?"

Rudolph swept down just behind Obsidian. “Here's a reindeer game for you!" He slammed his hoof into the other reindeer's black furred testicles as hard as he could! “Kickball!"

“AAAAAWWWWHHHH!" Obsidian cried out in pain, his eyes bugging out over his suddenly-contorted muzzle. He twisted in the air, unable to clutch himself, and topped down into the snow. He landed in a drift, a long, anguished groan escaping him. “Ooooohhhhhhhhhhhh!"

“Hah hah haha, I did, I did it!" Rudolph swept back and forth in the air. “Did you see me, Comet?"

“Yeah, Buddy, right in the sack!" Comet burst out laughing nearby.

Asterbury stared at The Coyote for a moment, then shook his head. “Woulda been so much better without the pun. And we still have to get rid of that book…"

“Yeah…huh."

Asterbury glanced up at the book, sinking to hover just above the stricken black reindeer. “Can't let anyone else touch it, or they might get corrupted too. And best hurray, he won't be down forever… Luckily, I think you know just what to do."

“Christmas magic!" Ayly giggled and hopped around in a circle.

“No, not that." Asterbury grinned, poking The Coyote in the belly. “But you know, deep inside, what you have to do. You've been referencing it all along! Or at least…early on…"

“Oh, God." The Coyote put a hand over his face, whining. “Do I have to?"

“It's the only way to be sure. Gotta get the book, and the deer, in one fell swoop." Asterbury poked him a few more times. “You know you want to say it."

“Fine." The Coyote took a deep breath, then folded his arms and spoke the three magic words in a very tired, very resigned voice. “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice."

“You know, technically coyote, I think it's spelled Betel-"

“It's showtime!" A cartoon character in a black and white stripped suit, with blond hair and red finger tips sprang into being, just above the deer and floating book.

“Oh, God, the cartoon version?" The Coyote threw his hands up. “Come ON!"

“Whaddya we get here, some kinda book?" Cartoon Beetlejuice picked up the book, flipping through. “Buncha stiffs. Bor-ring!"

“Give…" Obsidian rasped, wobbling back up to his hooves. “Give me…that, you…lifeless…impersonation of a classic!"

Asterbury held up three fingers. “Three…two…" He ticked his fingers down. “One…showtime."

Suddenly, a towering, striped serpent-like creature exploded from the earth, it's multiple jaws agape. It streaked straight for Beetlejuice.

“AH! Sandwor-"

That was as far as Beetlejuice got before the sandworm devoured him and the Necronomicon both. In the process, it also engulfed Obsidian before it turned and tunned back into the snow, vanishing out of existence. The Coyote stared, jaw agape as the thing's tail disappeared back into the ground. The snowy ground collapsed, once more sealing up the tunnel from whence the creature came.

Asterbury dusted off his hands. “They're someone else's problem now!"

“Huh." The Coyote scratched his muzzle. “I guess they are. So…can we go home now?"

“First!" Asterbury held up a finger. “We've got to due something about Santa."

“Oh…Right." The Coyote handed Asterbury back the minigun, and the urd'thin returned it to his robe. Along with his friends, The Coyote hurried back inside the control room. He stood over Santa's body a moment, then glanced at Asterbury. “Tim Allen?"

“Tim Allen." Asterbury rubbed his hands, and cleared his throat with a growl. “Hey gang! Remember that time Tim Allen appeared out of nowhere?"

Just as Asterbury stepped back, a very confused looking Tim Allen appeared from out of nowhere. He was dressed in Christmas pajamas, red with golden Christmas tree silhouettes on them. Shaving cream covered half his face, and a razor hung from his hands. He blinked, turned a slow circle, eyes widening.

“What the fuck?" He stepped back towards Santa's body.

Asterbury slapped Santa's candy pistol into Tim Allen's free hand. “Here, hold onto this for a moment."

“Okay, Tim Allen…" The Coyote held his hands up in front of him. “You've played Santa three times, so now we need you to-"

The doors burst open, and a squadron of armored elves burst in just in time to see Tim Allen, standing over Santa's body, holding the gun that killed him. “He killed Santa!"

The Coyote blinked, stepping away as the elves swarmed and tackled Tim Allen. “…Be framed for Santa's murder, apparently."

Asterbury whispered to everyone else, while the elves pummeled Tim Allen with their tiny fists and feet. “I think we should go. Follow me!"

The urd'thin led everyone away from the scene of the crime, and into the Launch Chamber. Inside, another of Santa's sleighs was already prepared for Christmas Launch. Massive monitors displayed a countdown till launch, while others showed which portions of the world he had yet to cover. So far, everything remained uncovered. A few elves sat in front of smaller monitors, while more of them worked to assemble a new harness for the remaining reindeer.

“Now that's some dedication!" The Coyote walked around the sleigh, smiling. A massive bag filled with gifts sat behind the seats. “This thing must be kinda like your robe, holds enough presents for everyone." He glanced back at the others. “So what do we do while Tim Allen's on trial for murder? Oh! I know!" The Coyote clambered up, hopping into the driver's seat. “We play Santa and send all these presents out ourselves?"

“Actually…" Asterbury climbed in and sat next to The Coyote. “I was thinking we steal them, and hand them out to all your party guests, instead. Not like this particular story world needs them…"

“Now that's an idea!" The Coyote leaned forward, gesturing to Amaleen and Ayly. “Quick, get in." Amaleen picked up the little hatchling and climbed aboard. When Krek and Valyrym followed, The Coyote held up a hand. “Oh no, not you two. You're needed elsewhere."

Valyrym snarled at him. “Don't you even think about-"

The Coyote snapped his fingers. In an instant, Valyrym and Krek were out of their power armor, and into harnesses, hitched up to the sleigh. They glanced at each other, looked themselves over, and then groaned.

“You dirty little scavenger!"

The Coyote picked up a whip from the floorboards, and cracked it in the air. “On Valyrym, on Krek! Uh…I guess that's it. Well, what are you waiting for? Fly, you idiots!"

The dragon and gryphon both leapt into the air, yanking the sleigh up with them. It lurched, and The Coyote yelped, jolted around in the seat. He waved his hand, and safety belts appeared to buckle everyone in. Before any of the startled elves could stop them, the sleigh was out the hanger doors, and soaring into the snowy night sky.

Ayly squealed in glee. “WHEEEEE! Stolen Sleigh Ride! And Lellumgurb's a reindeer!"

As they ascended above Santa's fortress, Rudolph and Comet flew up alongside them.

The Coyote leaned over towards Rudolph. “You're not gonna try and stop us, are you?"

“Actually, we were hoping we could go to your party too!"

“Sure!" The Coyote laughed, and snapped the whip in the air. “Onwards, brave steeds! To the final scene, at last!"

***

At this point, between scenes, The Writer paused the story. It was time to join his family for their traditional Christmas Eve snack festival. For his part of the festivities, he assembled a beautiful charcuterie board with all sorts of delightful cured meats and pickled vegetables he picked up just for this day.

When he was stuffed, and happy, The Writer went for a drive. He did the same thing every Christmas Eve, going to look at Christmas lights. It was a tradition he remembered when from he was a child, and one he'd long continued into adulthood. It just wasn't Christmas Eve without Christmas lights. When his parents were up for it, they went with him. Tonight they were both ready to relax after their big meal, so he went on his own. He played Christmas music, humming along, savoring all the beautiful sights.

He returned home, later that evening, and shared some dessert with his parents. Petite Fours from the Swiss Colony. They'd been waiting in the fridge for ages, and then did not disappoint. Then he opened up his tradition Christmas beer, a St. Benardus Christmas Ale. He drank every year around Christmas, usually while working on that year's Christmas story.

The Writer settled in, sipped his beer, and finished his tale.

***

When the party unfolded, everyone was there. Just as he'd promised, The Coyote invited everyone from every story he'd ever written, whether that tale was shared or not. He made sure the magic of Christmas expanded the house enough to fit everyone in. And though it was warm, and drizzly in reality, in the Christmas verse, it was cold and snowy outside.

In the backyard, dragons and gryphons played in the snow. Revaramek and Krek got into a wrestling match. Chir'raal and Kurekka came to Krek's aid, not wanting to let their scaly friend get the upper hand over their feathered brethren. Since three gryphons on one dragon seemed wildly unfair, Alvaranox and Korvarak stormed in to help their follow green-scaled dragon. Kylaryn and Galvarys broke into a snowball fight, pitting one blue scaly behemoth against another. Narymiryn and Nyramyn sat together under a sheltered overhang, sipping hot cocoa from drinking bowls, and discussing whether their similar sounding names were just an easter egg, or a deeper connection. Easter egg was their consensus.

Inside the house, Varcorak wandered around, half drunk on brandy and egg nog, trying to make Christmas deals with anyone who would listen. Amaleen followed him around, warning everyone not to take any deal the big, black and green dragon might offer. Then when he came across Asterbury, it was Amaleen warning Varcorak not to accept any deals from urd'thin. In the end, they both got hammered, talking the nuances of misunderstood villains and anti-heroes.

Valar and his father feasted on a wide variety of cured meats, and sweat pastries and cakes. Valar introduced his father to Kylyra and Voskyr, knowing that in the main story, they might never get a chance to know each other as a family. Vraal roamed around alongside Kylah, just savoring the chance to get to know some other dragons again. All of the Coyote's older characters, who appeared in last year's story were there, too, happy just to be remembered. It wasn't long before Revaramek was inviting them to party with him and his gryphon friends, and trying to get them all drunk.

Mirelle, Beka, and Tavaat broke into The Coyote's private age stash, and had a beer tasting party for a while. And so long as everyone was playing nice, they invited Asterbury to join them, and swapped embarrassing from their youth. Asterbury flashed back to several holiday events that never actually happened, and before long, they were all best friends. None of them stepped on a jellyfish.

Kaythos and Garnoth were there, too, and soon, they were entertaining Queen Kathlyn of tales from their tribal homeland. When they started talking about gryphons and their penchant for arrogance and twisted truths, Kathlyn lit up and launched into a diatribe of all of Krek's faults. Before long, they'd all bonded and wandered off together to tease Krek. Ayly and Little Valar followed along. Both of them climbed Mount Giffid, much to the amusement of everyone else. Then they decided to compete to see who could climb the most gryphons the fastest.

The Coyote's various anthro characters were there, too, playing video games in The Coyote's Bedroom, and getting autographs from their favorite characters. Valyrym bragged each time that he was everyone's favorite, even though they kept telling him, he wasn't. Ayly and Little Valar raced around everywhere, competing to see who could climb up the most gryphons the fastest.

Everyone was there, even though he couldn't remember, because it was getting late, and he'd written an awful lot of words in a very short time.

The Coyote handed out presents from the back of Santa's stolen sleigh. Valyrym got a set of dremel tools, so he could stop breaking his claws on stone. Krek got a mirror to preen himself in. Ayly got a gallon of egg nog, a basket of candy canes, and a card that proclaimed her allowed to swear twice a year. Asterbury was given a beautiful painting of a desert, and a mug that said, #1 Dad, with the word Dad scratched out and replaced with the word Villain. Galvarys got a year's supply of honey-roasted hams. Alvaranox got a book about interpreting dreams, some LSD, and a blowjob from his favorite female, because that was one poor pent up dragon. He also got a promise that the continuation of is tale was still coming up in the new year. Revaramek got the full boxed set of The Dragon In The Dungeon, and a laptop designed for dragon claws so he could write his own stories. Mirelle and Amaleen got matching pointy boots, and a book entitled, The Maiden's Guide to Self Defense Against Dragons. Rudolph and Comet received a marriage license.

After that, The Coyote let everyone else pick out their own presents. While the party continued deep into the night, The Coyote poured himself another glass of beer, and wandered out into the living room. It was quiet out there, and the room, for now, was empty. He flopped down on the couch across from the Christmas tree, relishing its silent, peaceful glow. So many lights, so many colors. So many years wrapped around so many ornaments.

In a way, it was a visual history of all the many wonderful Christmases he shared with his family. There were ornaments as old as he was, from the year of his birth, bought to celebrate his arrival into the world. Others were numbered with every year that passed since. More celebrated his brother's birth. Some of them he even made in school, as a child. Somehow, just like him, they found a way to survive this long.

The thought made him smile as he stared at the tree. Another year, another Christmas. He sipped his beer, whispering to himself. “He's to surviving one more."

“All alone, Coyote?" Valyrym's normally brassy voice was soft, and subdued, not wanting to disturb The Coyote too much.

The Coyote glanced over at the dragon. A red santa hat hung from one of his horns, its white cotton tip bobbling. “Yeah. I like the solitude sometimes, at Christmas. I like to just…sit, and…stare at the tree. Think about Christmases past, and…my life, I guess."

“Good thoughts, I hope?"

“Yeah." The Coyote took another sip, nodding. “This year, they are."

“I'm glad, Coyote."

“You can join me, if you want." The Coyote patted the sofa.

“If you insist." The dragon padded over, and climbed up onto the sofa, settling in. Once he was comfortable, he lifted a foreleg in invitation.

The Coyote leaned up against the dragon, getting comfortable. “Thanks."

“My pleasure, you mangy mutt." He ruffled the Coyote's fur, chuckling. “So…this is where we sat…well, it must have been at least three or four years ago now. At the end of…I think your 2nd Christmas tale. The first time you let one of these get…really emotional."

The Coyote lay his head against the old dragon's warm scales, staring at the tree. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds right."

“You…you really do seem in a better place, right now. I know it's…" The dragon swished a paw in the air. “Dififcult for you, sometimes."

“It's difficult for everyone, Val."

“I know. But I also know that…the fear and pain you sometimes see in others, reflects back on you, sinks its claws in…leaves you feel the same fears, the same pain. I know a lot of the things that stress you are beyond your control, and yet, try as you might, you can't help but fixate on them. And…I know that many of your fears, they won't go away. This may be a hard year for you, and…there's a lot of things coming that worry you."

“Yup." The Coyote sipped his beer, smiling. “Tree sure is beautiful, isn't it? It's like…a little beacon of peace, and joy…shining for just one month a year. To remind us, as each year winds to a close, that…somehow, someway…things will be alright."

Valyrym swallowed hard, tilting his head to gaze down at The Coyote. “That's beautiful. But, I wonder…how do you do it? We keep saying, in this story, that you're in a good place lately. But with all those things that frighten you, all that stress that piles up, how do you…stay happy?"

The Coyote shrugged. “I don't. I get depressed, I get terrified, I get little…" He swished his beer. “Panic attacks, I obsess over the future and…every part of it that scares me, every bad thing that might happen…but…but life's not about fear, Val. Life's about joy. I don't…" He sipped his drink, then scrunched his muzzle. “I don't wanna live my life in fear. I don't wanna make my choices based on fear. I want…I want to enjoy my life, Val, and so as often as possible, I do. Sometimes it's a struggle…but I made a conscious choice to…to enjoy myself however I can, whenever I can. To let go of my anger, and fear, whenever I can. Not to hold grudges or let negativity rule me. It's…it's a poison. Being an angry, hating things…" He licked his muzzle, his ears drooping. “And I do get angry, sometimes. Furious. I broke my desk, punching it, because I so worked up, so…angry over an argument I had, with a friend! And I hate things…I hate a whole lot of things, but very few that I can change. But…but whenever I can, I let go of that. I focus on the good things, on the positivity. If someone wrongs me, I strive to forgive them. If something frightens, I tell myself, it'll be alright, even if it might be a lie. When I'm worried, and scared, I try to something I enjoy. A video game, writing, a good meal, a great beer…As foolish as it sounds, I'd like to believe that positivity can overwhelm negativity. And…maybe that's just me, but it works. People get life wrong, Val. They get it wrong."

“What…" The dragon curled his neck. “What do you mean?"

“Life. They get it wrong. The meaning of it. It's simply, really, at least the way I see it. There's only one meaning to life. And that's to enjoy it." The Coyote smiled, and took a long drink of his beer. He sighed in satisfaction, tongue lolling god. “God, that's good. Life is to be enjoyed, Val. However hard that is for some people. But I truly believe that's the real meaning of life, to enjoy your time while you're here, because it'll never be as long as wanted. So find something you love, and savor it. Do something you love, and do it often. If you're lucky, you'll find someone you love." He chuckled to himself, shrugging. “And if it doesn't work out, the pain will faded, and you can find someone else. There's seven billion people in this world, Val, but you have to keep looking. And even if it never works out, that's alright. There's still so much love and joy in the world, if only you're willing to find it."

“And you've…" The dragon draped a wing over The Coyote. “Found your joy, then?"

“I've found many joys. Writing is one of my greatest. And, as nerdy as it sounds…furry conventions. I just feel…home, there. Almost like Christmas. So yeah…" He stared into his beer a moment. “I could die from this someday. Or sooner. Might try a bone marrow transplant someday, but even that might kill me, if it doesn't go right. Or I could be on this medication for the rest of my life, fighting to stay on it every other year. But you know what? This is what I have to say to all of life's many hardships." The Coyote lifted a hand, and held out his middle finger. “Go fuck yourself, I'm gonna have fun anyway."

Valyrym smiled, nudging The Coyote with his muzzle. “You're flipping off your Christmas Tree."

“Shut up, Lizard."

“That is…a wonderful attitude, though."

The Coyote shrugged. “It's all I got. I'm sick with a bunch a bone marrow bullshit most folks have never heard of, and, I probably always will be. I get needles poked in me every other week just to keep my blood from destroying itself. But you know what? I don't want that to be all there is to my life. So my life? It's about enjoying myself, it's about having fun, it's about doing whatever the hell I enjoy, whenever I get the chance. If every day might be our very last, why shouldn't we strive to enjoy as many of those days as we can?"

“You do make an excellent point."

“Thank you." The Coyote patted Valyrym's scales. “So yeah. I know there's stress, and hardship coming. I've got a due date for an important project coming up fast, and even if that works out, I've got income reporting to worry about, I've got billing agencies sending me bullshit letters, wanting my help collecting from insurance, and this from the people who made it so hard for me to get my meds!" He sighed, shaking his head, and then gave a soft laugh. “But who cares, it's Christmas. And I love Christmas, Valyrym, and so I'm damn sure gonna enjoy it!"

“I know you love Christmas. You've spent five stories telling me."

“Yeah…yeah. So I have." The Coyote took a long drink of his beer, then set the glass down. He picked up the bottle, and poured some more. “It's funny. I imagined this was gonna be…a real short one, closer to the length of the first two, rather than the last one. And yet…here it is…now the 2nd longest Christmas tale I've done, written in…five days, I think? And probably no one's gonna read it, but who cares, I had fun anyway."

“Did you? Enjoy your tale this year?"

“Oh, absolutely." The Coyote gave an incredulous laugh, shaking his head. He flicked his tail against the dragon. “It did not turn out like I expected, and I know the later in the day it got, the more condensed it became. But it just wouldn't be a DitD Christmas story if actually made any kind of sense. The important thing is, I sure as hell enjoyed writing it. If anyone else enjoys reading it, then that's just a bonus. It's my own little Christmas tradition now, and it…it just wouldn't be Christmas if I hadn't written it."

“Good. I'm glad. So…" The dragon waved his paw towards the noise and laughter drifting in from the party. “In the interest of enjoying our lives while we can, shall we rejoin the party?"

“Yeah…Yeah, that sounds good." The Coyote smiled, and rose to his feet. “Real life me has to wrap a few more presents before he's off to bed, anyway."

“Well then. Let's go get good and drunk."

“Now that sounds like Christmas." The Coyote laughed, and when the dragon got off the couch, he hugged him around the neck for a long time. “Thank you for being there for me, Valyrym, even if it's all in my head."

“My pleasure. May all your fears ebb away in the coming year, may all your endeavors succeed, and may your life be filled with far greater joy, than sorrow." Valyrym hugged him back. “Merry Christmas, Coyote.

“Merry Christmas, Valyrym."

***

And Merry Christmas to you, my friends, fans, and readers, one and all. Whether or not you celebrate it, may you have a wonderful day, filled with peace, joy, and a new year filled with happiness.

I hope I brought a smile to you, this holiday.

Thank you for reading.