With that, a love for the reindeer bloomed inside of her. Heaven help the man who tried to come between her and her reindeer. They were keeping Snowflake, and that was that.
Chapter One
Somewhere in the wilds of Oregon
December 1
Trees bigger than any building back home crowded in, making the path disappear, but Forest Nicholas wasn’t discouraged by tripping over large roots or having to scurry over a wall in his snowshoes. Not when he was close to finally finding Snowflake.
The speedy reindeer had flown off last Christmas Eve, taking a magical sleigh with her. The night had been a mess on multiple levels. When the magical dust had settled, it’d become apparent that Snowflake wasn’t going to find her way home and one of the reindeer wranglers would have to go after her before she was spotted, caught, or worse—hurt.
A flying reindeer might be magical from Thanksgiving to New Year’s, but she was likely to get shot right out of the air any other time of year. Especially since she was drawn to the less-populated parts of the country. So far this year, he’d heard stories of her flying through Arkansas, New Mexico, and now Oregon all in one night. Considering she started in Las Vegas, she’d made an impressive number of appearances for a lone reindeer.
“We really need to install tracking devices on the sleighs.” He grunted as he stomped the ground in a low area to make sure it was solid. He didn’t want to fall into a river covered with snow. It happened. Although he couldn’t hear water moving, that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Being cautious had kept him alive for the last ten months as he’d trekked across this great country—a hotel bed was a blessing, as he spent most nights sleeping in the camper in the bed of his truck.
“You talking to me?” called a gravelly voice, the kind that sounded like it didn’t get used often. It brought to mind the old push mower he’d used growing up; he’d pull on the cord and the engine would grumble and work its way up to full speed.
He scanned the tree line and found a stooped figure that he could have walked right by without knowing it was there. The old-timer had on a white camo military-issue coat. His gray beard hung down to his belly, and his white hair tufted out from under a gray beanie. In this frozen world, he was no princess.
“I was talking to myself—but I’m glad to find a friend,” Forest responded.
“You lost?”
“Nope.” With his satellite phone and GPS, he had his location pinned down.
“Then what the heck are you doing out here?”
Forest stopped his approach. The man’s angry tone said he’d crossed a line somewhere. “Sorry, friend. I didn’t realize I was trespassing.”
“I ain’t your friend.” He narrowed his eyes. “And I don’t own so much as a piece of dirt, so don’t go getting all fussy at me.”
Forest smiled easily. He’d met a few hermits on his travels this year. Only one of them was dangerous, and he’d handed over all his food and water in exchange for his life. It sounded scary, but really, he felt watched over at the time. Part of him wondered who was being watched over, though—the man desperate enough to point a knife at another human, or the one who had more than enough food to appease him. God certainly worked in mysterious ways, and who was Forest to question Him?
“I have some jerky and a couple apples—want to trade?” He motioned to a stump nearby where he could lay out his items and they could make a deal.
The man nodded, and they took up positions on either side like contestants in a game show. After brushing the snow off the makeshift table as best he could, Forest shifted his pack and it slung off his back and onto the ground. He hardly noticed the weight of it anymore, though he’d have permanent indents in his shoulders from the straps.
“I got this.” The old-timer pulled out a bottle of moonshine.
Forest waved it off. “You can keep that.” He plopped the goods on the stump. He’d picked up a couple of apples two days ago and had been saving them for Snowflake. “What I want is information.”
The man’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m gathering stories. Weird stuff that happens in the woods.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. He had certainly collected his share of campfire-worthy tales over the last year as he met people who didn’t want to be found. “Big foot. Loch Ness type stuff. You know?” He paused. The man’s eyes darted to the side. “Flying reindeer …?” Forest ventured.
The man flinched.
“Ah.” Forest opened the jerky. The scent of teriyaki-flavored meat filled the space between them. “Here.” He held out the bag.
A hesitant hand reached in for a piece.
“No. Take the bag.” He pushed it at the man.
He took it and frowned. “Can’t exactly say what I saw. It was big, though.”
Forest held back. What he wanted to do was grab the guy by the shoulders and shake the information out of him. But he’d learned the hard way that patience was better than eagerness.
The man set a piece of meat between his teeth and tugged. He chewed for a minute, both on his thoughts and the food. “If you’re looking for strange, then you’ll find it headed that way.” He pointed east with his middle finger. Forest did a double take. The man was missing his first finger altogether. “Flying about a hundred miles per hour and prettiest deer I ever did see. She had a sleigh and a determined look. That’s all I’m gonna say about that.”
