THE NORTH PEAK CHRONICLES™
The Last Lesson
Part Four
The Truth Between Friends
Grumwald did not sleep.
He tried.
He returned to his room, removed his boots, placed the golden training tags neatly on the table, and lay down beneath three heavy blankets.
Then he stared at the ceiling.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the nursery gate standing open.
He saw Prance’s tiny hoofprints leading away from North Peak.
He heard the other elves cheering when they believed he had rescued her.
And beneath all of it, he heard Tobias’s voice.
Begin with the truth.
Grumwald rolled onto his side.
Then the other.
He rearranged the blankets.
He counted the wooden beams across the ceiling.
There were seventeen.
He counted them again in case one had appeared since the first time.
Still seventeen.
At last, he sat up.
The room was dark except for the faint glow of moonlight against the window.
On the table lay the tag he had finished that evening.
PRANCE
The letters were perfectly centered.
The edges were polished.
The brass loop had been tightened twice.
Grumwald picked it up.
For someone who valued accuracy as much as he did, he had allowed everyone to believe something completely untrue.
He closed his hand around the tag.
Then he put his boots back on.
⸻
North Peak slept beneath a fresh layer of snow.
Lanterns had dimmed along the village streets.
The workshops were quiet.
Even the bakery had gone still, though warm peppermint air continued drifting from its chimney.
Grumwald crossed the square alone.
He stopped outside the apprentice quarters.
Merryfin’s window glowed faintly.
Grumwald stared at the door.
He lifted one hand.
Lowered it.
Lifted it again.
A voice behind him whispered:
“Are you attempting to knock through concentration?”
Grumwald spun around.
Pebblemint stood in the snow wearing striped pajamas, boots, and a winter hat pulled down over one eye.
“What are you doing out here?” Grumwald demanded.
“I could ask you the same question.”
“You just did.”
“Yes. I found it effective.”
Pebblemint held a plate containing half a sandwich.
Grumwald looked at it.
“Why do you have food?”
“I woke up hungry.”
“You wake up hungry every night.”
“That is why I prepare sandwiches.”
“You are wearing pajamas outside.”
“I prepared less carefully for the weather.”
Grumwald turned back toward the door.
Pebblemint took a bite.
“Are you going to wake Merryfin?”
“No.”
“You appear to be standing outside his door in the middle of the night.”
“I am aware of where I’m standing.”
“Then your plan lacks mystery.”
Grumwald glared at him.
Pebblemint chewed thoughtfully.
“Is this about Prance?”
Grumwald’s face changed.
Pebblemint stopped chewing.
For all his silliness, he noticed more than most people realized.
“You know?” Grumwald asked.
“I know something is wrong.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No.”
Pebblemint looked toward the apprentice door.
“Did you open the gate?”
Grumwald’s shoulders stiffened.
“I did not open it.”
“But you saw it.”
The silence answered for him.
Pebblemint lowered the sandwich.
Grumwald looked away.
“I saw Prance leave.”
“And you didn’t stop her?”
“No.”
Pebblemint stared.
The usual brightness left his face.
“I thought I closed it.”
“You almost did.”
“So she got out because of me.”
“She got out because I wanted Merryfin to look careless.”
Pebblemint’s eyes widened.
Grumwald forced himself to continue.
“I thought she would wander into the yard. I planned to bring her back before she went far.”
“But she followed you.”
“Yes.”
“Toward the caverns.”
“Yes.”
Pebblemint looked down at the snow.
For once, he had no joke.
Grumwald almost wished he would make one.
Anything would have been easier than the disappointment on Pebblemint’s face.
“I’m telling Merryfin,” Grumwald said.
Pebblemint nodded slowly.
“You should.”
“I know.”
“But not tonight.”
Grumwald frowned.
“Why not?”
Pebblemint pointed toward Merryfin’s window.
“He has slept for approximately eleven minutes.”
“How would you know?”
“I was outside his room asking whether he had emergency biscuits.”
Grumwald stared.
“He did not.”
Pebblemint tucked the plate beneath one arm.
“You should tell him when he can hear you properly.”
“That sounds almost intelligent.”
“I contain surprises.”
Grumwald looked at him.
“Are you angry?”
“Yes.”
The directness caught Grumwald off guard.
Pebblemint pulled his hat away from his eye.
“But Prance is safe.”
“She could have been hurt.”
“Yes.”
“You could have been blamed.”
“Yes.”
Grumwald swallowed.
“I’m sorry.”
Pebblemint studied him.
“Tell Merryfin that.”
“I will.”
“And Snowblossom.”
Grumwald’s expression tightened.
“And Twinkletips.”
He sighed.
“And Jollywhip.”
Grumwald looked increasingly miserable.
Pebblemint considered.
“You should probably also apologize to Prance.”
“She is a reindeer.”
“She was the most affected.”
Grumwald looked toward the arena in the distance.
“You are enjoying this.”
“A little.”
Grumwald almost turned away.
Pebblemint touched his sleeve.
“But I’ll come with you.”
Grumwald looked down at him.
“Why?”
“Because telling the truth alone is frightening.”
“You are angry with me.”
“I can be angry and still stand beside you.”
Grumwald stared at him.
Pebblemint shrugged.
“Hearts are rarely only one thing.”
Grumwald’s eyes narrowed.
“Tobias told you that?”
“No. I was listening from inside the feed barrel.”
“Why were you inside a feed barrel?”
“I lost a spoon.”
Grumwald closed his eyes.
For the first time all night, the tightness in his chest loosened slightly.
Pebblemint held out the remaining half of his sandwich.
Grumwald looked at it.
“What is that?”
“Peppermint cheese.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“It is.”
“Then why are you eating it?”
“I dislike waste.”
Grumwald took the sandwich.
Pebblemint smiled.
They sat together on the apprentice steps until the lantern in Merryfin’s window finally went dark.
⸻
Morning arrived bright and bitterly cold.
The storm clouds had cleared.
Sunlight shone across the village, turning every rooftop and snowbank silver.
Inside the Reindeer Arena, the young training team gathered for practice.
Starstep’s leg had been wrapped, but she could already walk without limping.
Prance bounced beside her.
Jollywhip inspected the repaired harnesses.
Twinkletips recorded Starstep’s recovery in a thick medical ledger.
Snowblossom brushed Prance’s coat.
Merryfin stood near the center of the arena with Tobias’s whistle hanging temporarily around his neck.
He had returned it twice.
Tobias had handed it back both times.
“Only for morning practice,” Tobias said.
Merryfin touched it carefully.
“Yes, Master Tobias.”
Tobias watched from the observation rail.
Santa stood beside him.
Neither spoke.
Below, Merryfin raised one hand.
“Training teams, prepare for formation.”
Grumwald entered through the side doors.
Pebblemint walked beside him.
The other elves turned.
Grumwald stopped several feet away.
His coat was buttoned incorrectly.
One side hung lower than the other.
Twinkletips noticed instantly.
She opened her mouth.
Snowblossom shook her head.
Grumwald held the brass tag in both hands.
“Merryfin.”
Merryfin lowered his arm.
“What is it?”
Grumwald looked around the arena.
Every face had turned toward him.
He almost left.
Pebblemint moved one step closer.
Grumwald took a breath.
“I need to tell you what happened yesterday.”
Merryfin’s expression became serious.
“With Prance?”
“Yes.”
The calf heard her name and trotted over.
Grumwald looked down at her.
Prance sniffed his coat pocket.
He had no carrot.
She appeared disappointed.
Grumwald knelt.
“The gate was open,” he said. “I saw her leave.”
Merryfin’s face changed.
Snowblossom stopped brushing.
Twinkletips lowered her pen.
“I could have brought her back,” Grumwald continued. “But I didn’t.”
“Why?” Merryfin asked.
Grumwald’s fingers tightened around the tag.
“Because Tobias had left you in charge.”
Merryfin said nothing.
“I wanted you to fail.”
The words hung across the arena.
The reindeer shifted softly in their stalls.
Grumwald looked directly at Merryfin now.
“I thought Prance would remain near the yard. When she followed me toward the outer trail, I tried to lead her back.”
Pebblemint spoke quietly.
“But the snow covered the tracks.”
Grumwald nodded.
“I nearly lost her.”
Merryfin’s spark flickered beneath his coat.
“You let us search the mountains.”
“Yes.”
“You knew where she was?”
“Not at first. She ran into the trees. I found her shortly before you found me.”
“And when everyone said you rescued her?”
Grumwald looked down.
“I let them believe it.”
Merryfin’s jaw tightened.
Snowblossom stepped closer to him, but did not touch him.
Grumwald held out the brass tag.
“I am sorry.”
Merryfin did not take it.
Grumwald swallowed.
“I am sorry to all of you.”
He looked toward Pebblemint.
“I used your mistake because I wanted Merryfin to look worse.”
Pebblemint nodded, but his face remained solemn.
Grumwald turned to Snowblossom.
“I frightened you.”
Then Twinkletips.
“I caused an unnecessary search.”
Twinkletips pushed her glasses higher.
“Several unnecessary calculations.”
“Yes.”
“Forty-two.”
Grumwald blinked.
“I’m sorry for all forty-two.”
He looked toward Jollywhip.
“I took search equipment away from the village during the storm.”
Jollywhip folded his arms.
“That was dangerous.”
“I know.”
At last, Grumwald looked toward Prance.
The calf had begun chewing one of his loose coat buttons.
“And I’m sorry to you.”
Prance pulled.
The button popped free.
She chewed happily.
Grumwald sighed.
“I suppose that is fair.”
No one laughed.
Merryfin looked toward Tobias on the balcony.
Tobias did not rescue Grumwald from the moment.
He did not speak.
Merryfin turned back.
“Why did you want me to fail?”
Grumwald’s face hardened instinctively.
Then softened again.
“Because everyone believes in you.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“Yes, it is.”
Grumwald looked around the arena.
“When you make a mistake, people encourage you. When you try something new, they gather to watch. Tobias trusts you. Santa notices you.”
Merryfin’s spark dimmed slightly.
“And you think no one notices you.”
Grumwald looked away.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Merryfin approached him.
Grumwald braced himself.
“For what it’s worth,” Merryfin said, “I notice you.”
“That does not improve matters.”
“You notice everything.”
“So does Twinkletips.”
“She notices measurements.”
Twinkletips looked mildly offended.
Merryfin continued.
“You notice when a tag is missing. When a harness is placed on the wrong hook. When the feed list doesn’t match the stall count.”
Grumwald frowned.
“That is called being responsible.”
“Yes.”
Merryfin looked at Prance.
“And yesterday, you noticed the gate.”
Grumwald’s expression fell.
“I noticed it and made the wrong choice.”
“Yes.”
The answer was not gentle.
Grumwald looked back at him.
Merryfin’s voice grew quieter.
“You could have gotten Prance hurt.”
“I know.”
“You could have gotten one of us hurt looking for her.”
“I know.”
“I’m angry.”
Grumwald nodded.
“I expected that.”
“I don’t know how long I’ll be angry.”
Grumwald’s face tightened, but he nodded again.
Merryfin finally took the brass tag.
“That doesn’t mean I hate you.”
Grumwald stared at him.
“I don’t understand.”
Merryfin looked toward Prance, who was now trying to eat a second button.
“You came back and told the truth.”
“Tobias told me to.”
“But you still did it.”
Merryfin handed the tag back.
“You should put that on her stall.”
Grumwald looked down at it.
“That’s all?”
“No.”
Merryfin’s eyes held his.
“You are going to help repair every gate in the nursery paddock.”
Grumwald straightened.
“They are already repaired.”
“Then you’ll check them.”
“I check them every morning.”
“You’ll check them twice.”
“That is inefficient.”
“Three times.”
Grumwald’s mouth closed.
Pebblemint covered a smile.
Merryfin continued.
“And you will help Pebblemint with nursery duty for the next month.”
Pebblemint’s eyes widened.
“I am being punished too?”
“You left the gate open.”
“That is true.”
Grumwald looked horrified.
“A month?”
Merryfin folded his arms.
“Would you prefer two?”
“No.”
“Then one.”
Grumwald glanced toward Tobias.
The older elf remained silent.
Grumwald returned his attention to Merryfin.
“All right.”
Merryfin nodded.
“All right.”
The tension loosened slightly.
Not completely.
But enough.
Grumwald walked toward Prance’s stall and fastened the brass tag above the gate.
He tested the latch.
Once.
Twice.
Then a third time.
Prance leaned over the gate and licked the side of his face.
Grumwald wiped his cheek.
Pebblemint appeared beside him holding a bucket.
“Nursery duty begins immediately.”
“What is in that?”
Pebblemint looked inside.
“I am uncertain.”
Grumwald stepped back.
“That is not reassuring.”
“It may be oats.”
“It is moving.”
Pebblemint looked again.
“Oh.”
A tiny mouse climbed out of the bucket carrying one oat.
Pebblemint waved.
“Good morning.”
Grumwald stared.
Behind them, Merryfin finally laughed.
The others joined him.
Even Grumwald smiled.
Only slightly.
But Tobias saw it.
⸻
After practice, Tobias found Merryfin beside the outer paddock.
The younger elf leaned against the fence while the training reindeer raced across the snow.
Grumwald and Pebblemint worked near the nursery gates.
Pebblemint held a checklist upside down.
Grumwald kept turning it around.
Pebblemint kept turning it back.
“You handled that well,” Tobias said.
Merryfin looked toward him.
“I was angry.”
“I noticed.”
“I wanted to shout.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Should I have?”
Tobias rested his arms on the fence.
“Perhaps.”
Merryfin blinked.
“I thought you were going to tell me anger was wrong.”
“Anger can tell you something important has been harmed.”
Tobias watched Grumwald test another latch.
“What matters is what you ask anger to do afterward.”
Merryfin thought about that.
“I didn’t forgive him.”
“No.”
“Not completely.”
“You are not required to pretend trust returns before it does.”
Merryfin looked relieved.
“I thought being kind meant I had to make everything all right immediately.”
“Kindness without truth is often only avoidance.”
Merryfin turned toward Tobias.
“That sounds like another lesson.”
“I am old. Lessons occasionally escape me.”
“You aren’t that old.”
Tobias looked at him.
Merryfin smiled.
“You are somewhat old.”
“Better.”
They watched the reindeer for a moment.
Merryfin touched the whistle around his neck.
“Grumwald asked if you were leaving.”
Tobias’s expression changed.
“He told you?”
“Pebblemint told me.”
“Of course he did.”
Merryfin stared across the paddock.
“Are you?”
Tobias did not answer immediately.
Merryfin’s chest tightened.
“You are.”
“I haven’t decided.”
“That means you might.”
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt more than Merryfin expected.
He gripped the top rail.
“Why?”
Tobias looked toward North Peak.
The workshops.
The arena.
The snow-covered roofs.
The distant mountains.
“I have spent many winters believing this place needed me to remain exactly where I was.”
“It does need you.”
“Perhaps.”
“Not perhaps.”
Merryfin turned toward him.
“The reindeer need you. The apprentices need you. I need you.”
Tobias’s face softened.
Merryfin rarely spoke so plainly about himself.
“What would happen if you left?” Merryfin asked.
“The sun would probably rise.”
“That is not funny.”
“The bakery would make breakfast.”
“Tobias.”
“The reindeer would train.”
“With who?”
Tobias looked at him.
Merryfin stepped back.
“No.”
“I did not say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
Tobias’s eyes twinkled faintly.
“You’ve become annoyingly good at noticing that.”
“I’m not ready.”
Tobias nodded.
“No one ever feels ready for the exact moment they are asked to become more than they were yesterday.”
“I flew one rescue.”
“You led one.”
“I listened to Jollywhip fix an oven.”
“You trusted him to lead.”
“I handled Grumwald without shouting.”
“Mostly.”
Merryfin looked toward the village.
“That doesn’t make me you.”
Tobias’s voice became gentle.
“It should not.”
Merryfin turned back.
“The next Master of the Reindeer should not become another Tobias Wintermiere.”
He placed one hand on Merryfin’s shoulder.
“He should become the fullest version of Merryfin Sparkshoe.”
Merryfin’s spark glowed through his coat.
Not brightly.
Not proudly.
Tenderly.
“I don’t want your last lesson,” he whispered.
Tobias looked away toward the mountains.
“Neither do I.”
⸻
That afternoon, Santa called a meeting in the Great Hall.
Not a ceremony.
Not yet.
Just a gathering of the Reindeer Arena team.
Merryfin, Snowblossom, Twinkletips, Jollywhip, Pebblemint, and Grumwald sat together on a long wooden bench.
Tobias stood near the windows.
Mrs. Claus brought cocoa.
Pebblemint accepted two.
Grumwald took the second mug away from him.
“I was holding that for someone.”
“You were holding it toward your mouth.”
“That someone was me.”
Santa stood beside the great stone fireplace.
Golden light moved across his red coat.
“I asked you here,” he began, “because North Peak has shown us something important over the last two days.”
Pebblemint whispered:
“That the bakery requires stronger bolts?”
Jollywhip nodded.
“It does.”
Santa smiled.
“We learned that frightened hearts can be reached with patience.”
Merryfin looked toward Prance, visible through the frosted courtyard window.
“That courage is not the absence of uncertainty.”
Tobias’s gaze moved toward Merryfin.
“That knowledge matters most when it is shared.”
Twinkletips and Jollywhip glanced at each other.
“That truth can wound.”
Grumwald lowered his eyes.
“And still begin the healing.”
Pebblemint nudged Grumwald lightly with one elbow.
Santa looked toward Tobias.
“But perhaps the greatest lesson is this.”
The room grew quiet.
“No one carries North Peak alone.”
Santa let the words settle.
“Tobias has spent more winters than any of you can remember protecting our reindeer, guiding our flight teams, and preparing young elves for responsibilities they did not yet believe they could hold.”
Merryfin stared at the floor.
Tobias’s face remained still.
Santa continued.
“He has also spent those winters teaching each of you to notice what others need.”
Snowblossom’s eyes filled.
Twinkletips blinked rapidly behind her glasses.
Jollywhip folded his hands tightly in his lap.
Pebblemint stopped drinking cocoa.
Even Grumwald looked toward Tobias without hiding what he felt.
Santa stepped closer to him.
“I believe North Peak is ready for its next chapter.”
Tobias’s jaw tightened.
“And I believe,” Santa said, “you may be ready for yours.”
No one spoke.
At last, Merryfin stood.
“Is he leaving?”
Santa did not soften the answer.
“Yes.”
The word struck the room.
Snowblossom covered her mouth.
Twinkletips’s glasses slipped down her nose, but she did not fix them.
Jollywhip looked at Tobias as if he expected him to correct Santa.
Pebblemint whispered:
“Where?”
Tobias looked toward them.
“I don’t know.”
Grumwald frowned.
“You’re leaving without knowing where you’re going?”
“That is generally how journeys begin.”
“That is irresponsible.”
Tobias almost smiled.
“Perhaps you are rubbing off on me.”
Merryfin remained standing.
“When?”
Tobias looked toward Santa.
Santa answered.
“At the next opening of the Aurora Bridge.”
Twinkletips calculated automatically.
“Three nights.”
The room seemed to grow colder.
Three nights.
Not someday.
Not after Christmas.
Not when everyone felt prepared.
Three nights.
Merryfin sat back down.
Tobias moved toward him.
“Merryfin—”
“I need air.”
He rose quickly and left the hall.
Snowblossom started after him.
Tobias raised one hand.
“Let him go.”
She stopped.
The doors closed behind Merryfin.
Santa looked toward Tobias.
The old Master of the Reindeer stared at the empty doorway.
For the first time, he wondered whether his last lesson might be the hardest one he had ever asked Merryfin to learn.
⸻
Merryfin walked until the village lights disappeared behind him.
He followed the outer path past the training fields.
Past the nursery paddock.
Past the last lantern marking the safe boundary of North Peak.
He stopped on a low ridge overlooking the Ice Caverns.
The mountains glowed pale blue beneath the afternoon sky.
Far above them, the faint red shimmer had vanished.
Merryfin did not care.
He kicked a loose patch of snow.
Then another.
The golden spark beneath his coat flashed angrily.
He had known Tobias might leave.
He had heard it in the silences.
Seen it in Santa’s expression.
Felt it every time Tobias placed the brass whistle in his hand.
But knowing something might happen was different from hearing that it would.
Three nights.
Merryfin sat on a frozen stone.
He remembered the first morning he entered the Reindeer Arena.
He had been too nervous to speak.
Tobias had handed him a brush and pointed toward an enormous reindeer named Thunderhoof.
Merryfin had whispered:
“Does he bite?”
Tobias had replied:
“Only when asked foolish questions.”
Thunderhoof had sneezed directly into Merryfin’s face.
Tobias laughed for nearly a minute.
Merryfin smiled at the memory.
Then the smile disappeared.
Footsteps approached behind him.
Snowblossom sat beside him.
“I thought Tobias said to let me go,” Merryfin said.
“He did.”
“So why are you here?”
“I let you go.”
She looked toward the mountains.
“Then I came to find you.”
Merryfin pulled his coat tighter.
“I don’t want to talk.”
“That’s fine.”
They sat in silence.
One minute passed.
Then two.
Merryfin sighed.
“You are very good at waiting.”
“I learned from Tobias.”
“That is not helpful.”
“No.”
Another moment passed.
“He thinks I can replace him,” Merryfin said.
Snowblossom nodded.
“Do you?”
“No.”
She waited.
Merryfin looked toward her.
“You are supposed to disagree.”
“I don’t think anyone can replace Tobias.”
Merryfin stared.
Snowblossom continued.
“But that isn’t what he is asking.”
“He is giving me his position.”
“He is asking you to carry forward what he taught.”
“That sounds like the same thing.”
“It isn’t.”
She pointed toward the distant arena.
“Tobias taught Twinkletips to trust her knowledge.”
Merryfin nodded.
“He taught Jollywhip to act before he knew every answer.”
“Yes.”
“He taught Pebblemint that laughter can help frightened people breathe.”
“Did he?”
“Perhaps not intentionally.”
Merryfin smiled despite himself.
Snowblossom looked toward him.
“He taught Grumwald that truth can begin repairing harm.”
Merryfin’s smile faded.
“And he taught me that gentleness is not weakness.”
She touched the center of Merryfin’s coat, where his spark glowed beneath the fabric.
“What did he teach you?”
Merryfin looked down.
“Everything.”
“No.”
Snowblossom lowered her hand.
“He helped you recognize what was already here.”
Merryfin was quiet.
Below the ridge, a gust of wind lifted loose snow into the air.
The flakes swirled briefly, then settled.
“He’s going to the human world,” Merryfin said.
“We don’t know that.”
“The Aurora Bridge leads there.”
“It leads to someplace else.”
“That is what humans call their world.”
Snowblossom smiled faintly.
“You have been spending too much time with Twinkletips.”
Merryfin looked toward the Ice Caverns.
“What if he never comes back?”
Snowblossom did not answer immediately.
“I don’t know.”
His spark dimmed.
She leaned her shoulder against his.
“But leaving does not remove what someone gave you.”
“That sounds like something Tobias would say.”
“I learned from him too.”
They sat together as the sun began lowering behind North Peak.
At last, Merryfin stood.
“I should go back.”
“Yes.”
“I’m still angry.”
“You can be angry and go back.”
“I’m also sad.”
“You can carry both.”
Merryfin looked at her.
“Hearts are rarely only one thing.”
Snowblossom smiled.
“Exactly.”
⸻
When Merryfin returned to the Great Hall, the others had gone.
Only Tobias remained.
He stood beside the fireplace holding the brass whistle.
Merryfin stopped near the doors.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then Tobias held out the whistle.
Merryfin shook his head.
“No.”
“It belongs to the acting flight leader during practice.”
“You are still the Master.”
“For three more days.”
“Then keep it for three more days.”
Tobias lowered his hand.
Merryfin looked toward the flames.
“I’m angry with you.”
“I know.”
“You should have told me.”
“I was trying to understand it myself.”
“You let Santa tell us.”
“Yes.”
“That was cowardly.”
The word struck harder than Merryfin intended.
Tobias’s face changed.
Merryfin immediately regretted it.
But he did not take it back.
Tobias nodded slowly.
“Perhaps it was.”
Merryfin looked at him.
“I expected you to disagree.”
“I was afraid of your reaction.”
“You are never afraid.”
“That is an exhausting reputation.”
Merryfin swallowed.
Tobias stepped closer.
“I have faced storms, broken flight lines, frightened reindeer, and things in the Ice Caverns I hope you never see.”
His voice grew softer.
“But telling you I might leave was harder than all of them.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew it would hurt you.”
Merryfin’s eyes filled.
“Then don’t go.”
Tobias closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, they were bright.
“Staying only because leaving hurts is not always kindness.”
“It feels kinder to me.”
“I know.”
Merryfin looked away.
Tobias placed the whistle on the table between them.
“Santa has waited a long time for me to realize something.”
“What?”
“That I have been teaching all of you how to continue without me.”
Merryfin shook his head.
“I don’t want to.”
“No.”
“But you can.”
“That does not make it fair.”
“No.”
Merryfin wiped one sleeve across his eyes.
“I hate this lesson.”
Tobias smiled sadly.
“So do I.”
For several moments, the only sound was the crackling fire.
Then Merryfin picked up the whistle.
He did not place it around his neck.
He simply held it.
“What happens over the next three days?”
Tobias looked toward the snowy windows.
“You learn everything I still have time to teach.”
Merryfin’s grip tightened.
“And then?”
Tobias met his eyes.
“Then you teach me how to leave.”
⸻
That night, North Peak gathered beneath the northern lights.
Not for a celebration.
Not yet.
Word had traveled quickly.
Tobias Wintermiere would cross the Aurora Bridge in three nights.
Elves stood together in the village square.
Some cried openly.
Some whispered stories about lessons Tobias had taught them.
Others simply watched him from a distance, as though looking too closely might make the news more real.
Tobias moved among them quietly.
He listened.
He accepted hugs.
He laughed at old memories.
He corrected Pebblemint’s wildly inaccurate retelling of the Great Antler Tangle.
“There were not forty-seven reindeer,” Tobias said.
“There were emotionally forty-seven.”
“There were six.”
“Six very complicated reindeer.”
Near the fountain, Santa stood with Mrs. Claus.
Merryfin and the others gathered beside them.
Grumwald held something behind his back.
Tobias approached.
Grumwald stepped forward.
“I made this.”
He revealed a new brass plate.
The engraving read:
TOBIAS WINTERMIERE
MASTER OF REINDEER
TEACHER OF NORTH PEAK
Tobias stared at it.
Grumwald shifted uneasily.
“It is not a retirement plaque.”
“No?”
“It is a record.”
“Of what?”
“That you were here.”
Tobias’s eyes filled.
Grumwald looked alarmed.
“I can change the wording.”
“No.”
“Or the spacing.”
“It is perfect.”
Grumwald glanced at Twinkletips.
“She measured it.”
Twinkletips nodded.
“Twice.”
“Three times,” Grumwald corrected.
Tobias held the plaque carefully.
“Thank you.”
Pebblemint wiped his eyes with both sleeves.
Snowblossom looked toward him.
“Are you crying?”
“No.”
“You are.”
“I have snow in both eyes.”
“It is not snowing.”
Pebblemint sniffed.
“Unusual weather.”
Merryfin stood slightly apart from the others.
Tobias moved beside him.
Above North Peak, the Aurora shimmered brighter than before.
Green.
Silver.
Gold.
The bridge had not opened.
But it was coming.
Three nights away.
Merryfin looked toward the sky.
“You said the next three days would be lessons.”
“Yes.”
“What is tomorrow’s?”
Tobias followed his gaze.
“Tomorrow, we fly farther than you ever have.”
Merryfin glanced at him.
“Silverwind Ridge?”
“Beyond it.”
“The outer mountains?”
“Beyond them too.”
Merryfin’s spark brightened despite his sadness.
“Where are we going?”
Tobias smiled.
“To the place where North Peak’s flight magic begins.”
Merryfin stared.
“I thought that was only a story.”
“Most important places become stories after enough people forget where they are.”
The northern lights shifted.
For one heartbeat, a red streak appeared beneath the green.
Tobias saw it.
So did Santa.
Merryfin did not.
He was watching Tobias.
“Will the others come?”
“All of them.”
“Even Pebblemint?”
Tobias looked toward the elf, who was attempting to catch tears in an empty cocoa cup.
“Especially Pebblemint.”
A low sound rolled across the distant mountains.
Not thunder.
Not wind.
Something deeper.
The red light flashed again above the Ice Caverns.
This time, Merryfin saw it.
“What was that?”
The gathered elves turned toward the mountains.
The glow faded.
Tobias’s hand moved instinctively toward the whistle he no longer wore.
Merryfin noticed.
“You said nothing was wrong.”
“I said not that night.”
“And tonight?”
Tobias looked toward Santa.
Santa’s expression had grown grave.
The old danger remained distant.
Quiet.
But not gone.
Tobias turned back to Merryfin and the others.
“Tonight,” he said, “we prepare.”
End of Part Four