AN: Dungeons and Dragons and all related characters belong to Marvel, TSR, and the late Gary Gygax. I'm just borrowing them for a bit.

Seasons

By The Lady Razorsharp

-Winter-

"Merry Christmas, Sheila!"

Her father set a big box wrapped in shiny red foil in her lap, and she gaped at the present in shock. "Golly," she breathed, gently brushing the gold ribbon with her fingertips. "What is it?"

Laughing, her mother placed a similar box in Bobby's lap. "Open it and find out!"

"All right!" Bobby exclaimed, tearing into his package, but Sheila frowned, hesitating. For some reason she felt like handing the package back and saying 'no thanks.' Instead, she looked up at her father, who grinned and nodded toward the box.

Slowly, Sheila pulled the ribbon off the box, tore the paper off, and set the white box on her lap. The feeling was stronger than before, and she bit her lip as she looked up at her father one more time.

"Well, go on honey, open it," urged her mother. "I just know you'll love it."

"Yeah, sis, come on!" Bobby freed his box from the paper and began tugging at the tape that held the box closed.

Her heart pounding, Sheila lifted the lid. Inside the box was a folded length of purple cloth.

No, she thought. No, this isn't happening…

With shaking hands, she reached into the box and pulled the yards of feather-light cloth from the nest of tissue paper. The fabric shimmered in the light of the Christmas tree, glowing with a faint violet aura—or was she imagining it?

"It's a cloak," her mother said, beaming. "Do you like it, dear?"

Sheila swallowed. "I-I love it," she managed, her throat tight and dry.

"It's even got a hood." Her mother smiled. "It's so elegant; I just knew it belonged to you."

"It sure does," she muttered. It was her Thief's Cloak all right, down to the single gold button embossed with a curled-up dragon, its nose and tail touching.

"Hey, what's going on?" Sheila looked up just in time to see Bobby pull his Barbarian's Club out of his own box. He looked at Sheila, confusion written on his young face. "Sis?"

She glanced from Bobby to their parents, hoping that some explanation would come. Instead, her father's face began to lose its color, the familiar features turning a sickly, dead-white hue. Blue eyes went dark; canines lengthened and sharpened; fingernails grew into hooked claws—and then the form of Venger loomed before her, tall and terrible.

"You cannot escape me, young Thief," boomed the dark mage, his long arms reaching out to grab her.

Just as his icy fingers closed on her ankle, Sheila screamed—and sat bolt upright out of a sound sleep.

"Sheila!" Instantly, a pair of coffee-colored eyes were staring into hers. "What's the matter?"

The redhead blinked groggily. Diana. It's Diana… "N-nothing." She drew up her legs and rested her forehead on her leather-clad knees. "It was just a nightmare."

There was a shuffle of movement from beyond the low glow of the fire. "You two all right?" Hank's voice was sleepy, but the concern in his tone was clear.

"We're okay," said Diana. "Get some rest, Hank."

As the Ranger settled back down, Sheila heard Presto murmuring reassurance to Bobby. Eric alone slept on, his snores echoing softly against the roof of the cave. Sheila felt a smile touch her lips briefly; the Cavalier had done a lot of running in the last few days…

Diana shifted from her pallet and sat next to Sheila, their backs to the boys. Picking up her javelin, the Acrobat stirred the fire back into life with the end of the glowing rod. "You wanna talk about it?" she asked, low.

Sheila shrugged. "What's to tell? I was just dreaming what we all dream about." She wanted the images of her parents to slip away into memory; it was easier not to miss them so much if she didn't remember the details of their faces.

"Home," murmured Diana, stabbing at the embers with her javelin. Then she shot her friend a shrewd glance. "And Venger too, from what it sounded like."

With a shudder, the Thief leaned down to rub her ankle, where she could still feel the evil mage's touch. "Yeah, it was awful." She sighed and tucked her legs beneath her, drawing her cloak around her shoulders. "Diana, aren't you cold?"

The Acrobat grinned and removed her javelin from the fire, allowing it to shrink back to the size of her palm. "Not really," she said, tucking the length of enchanted wood into her waistband. "I guess this fur bikini keeps the important parts warm enough, so it doesn't matter." She brushed a bit of dried grass from the tufted tops of her boots. "Maybe our clothes are magic, like our weapons."

"Hmm, I hadn't thought of that." Sheila glanced down at the two inches of exposed skin between the hem of her skirt and the cuffs of her boots. She'd climbed rocks, waded through rivers, and landed in no doubt several dozen unladylike positions since she'd found herself in these clothes, and yet she'd never felt embarrassed. She'd never caught the guys looking up her skirt, anyway. On the other hand, they'd probably never had a chance to do so, between running for their lives and fighting their way out of danger.

Despite this reassurance, she felt her cheeks grow hot. She hoped she hadn't disgraced herself in front of Hank, although she knew the Ranger would never say anything.

"Hey," said Diana, and the surprise and wonder in her voice brought Sheila back to reality. "Do you see what I'm seeing?"

Sheila looked to where Diana pointed, toward the mouth of the cave. There was motion just outside, as if a beaded curtain were fluttering across the door. "Is that snow?"

"Yeah, I think it is."

Both girls watched in silence as the flakes, painted silver by the Realm's moons, fell in a silent stream. Sheila smiled. "Reminds me of the powdered sugar my mom puts on French toast."

Diana closed her eyes, clearly savoring the thought. "Oh, wow. I can almost taste it." She opened her eyes and grinned at her friend. "When we get home, I'm coming to your house for breakfast."

Sheila giggled. "It's a deal."

They watched the storm for a few more moments, and Sheila was surprised to find that she was thinking of the dream again—but for some reason it didn't hurt as bad, now that she'd shared a memory of home with Diana. Still, her voice was quiet when she spoke again, and not entirely because she didn't want to disturb the boys.

"Do you think it's Christmas back home?"

Diana shook her head. "I don't think so. Every time we…" She sighed, and Sheila could hear the edge of bitterness in the sound. "Every time we see the way home, it's like we never left. It's still the same day."

"That's true." Sheila pulled her cloak tighter around her. "I hope it stays that way. I don't want my parents to have to go through Christmas without Bobby and me."

"Me too. Although…" One corner of Diana's mouth lifted a fraction. "Just because it's not Christmas there doesn't mean it can't be Christmas here."

Sheila smiled. "You're right." She hugged her friend, feeling tears well up as they embraced. "Merry Christmas, Diana."

-End-