”“It worked.” John added dryly.“He couldn’t get them all, though.” Rhys said as he joined them and turned around. “The scouts will bring...more, soon. We should hide.”“Hide?” Dulgan growled. “There’ll be no hiding! I’ll kill every las’ one o’ ‘em!”“Master Ironhand,” Rhys said gently, “while I admire your enthusiasm, I do not believe we can stand for long against even twice that number.”“He’s right.” John agreed. “The question is: where do we go from here?”They continued to the north, then swung. It had worked so well at getting them into the holiday spirit, thatthey had continued to write a family letter to Santa every year,telling him what they each wanted. Though the requests had started outnormally, each year afterward they had tended to start requestingthings that they knew no one could get them, and making real wishes.Even though their annual letter to Santa had long since ceased to beuseful for letting them know what the others wanted, it had become afamily tradition, and still. More

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