Snow pelted against the wind shield. Just my luck, Sarah thought to herself bitterly. Of course she would get a caught in a snow storm — she hated driving in snow, always had. Despite growing up in Vermont, she didn't fully trust herself to maneuver through the icy streets safely. Plus, she wasn't a huge fan of the cold — her hands were practically frozen even with the heat cranked as high as it could go. But that was probably just poor circulation.

She sighed and tried to ease her tense shoulders. She wouldn't be out on the road much longer, she reminded herself, she was only a few miles away from Montpelier. Just relax. But try as she might to calm herself, she couldn't stop imagining the wheel spinning out of control, the car careening into a snowbank or worse into another vehicle. She shuddered at the thought.

Sarah pushed away thoughts of car accidents, focusing on her family and Christmas instead. As much as she hated the trip up, she always enjoyed seeing her family during the holiday season. Staying in her childhood room filled her with nostalgia, reminded her of being an angsty teen who spent most of her time either devouring fantasy novels or penning dreamlike stories where the heroines always won and happily ever afters were a given. Her eyes quickly glanced at the marbled notebooks in the passenger seat. Each contained notes, ideas, and scraps of story that struggled to be a cohesive whole.

"When are you going to let me read your novel?"

Sarah snorted. "Calling this project a novel is generous. It's novel-like at best."

Darren, her best friend and confidant, laughed. "Come on. Maybe I can help with whatever block you're having. I do know a thing or two about writing." An understatement. He had already published three books, each one critically acclaimed and on the New York Times bestseller list.

Sarah shrugged, staring down at her coffee. "I don't know. It just feels too personal."

"You're going to have to share it eventually. Unless you want to just let it collect dust in a drawer, I guess. But where would the fun in that be?"

If she were to be completely honest, it was tempting to do just that, to stuff all the images, stories, and yearnings bouncing around in her head into a drawer and to forget about them. She supposed that would the defeat the purpose of storytelling — you can't have a story with just a teller. Still, she —

There was something in the middle of the road, several feet ahead of her. She frowned. It looked to be the size of the large car, but even with the dense snowfall she could tell that it wasn't the right shape. It looked like an animal of some sort. And it wasn't getting out of the way. She pushed down on the brake, but the car continued to slide forward. Even snow tires can hydroplane apparently. Fuck.

As the car propelled forward, she was able to make out what was in the road. A stag. Tall, white-furred, and staring directly at her, but not in a deer-in-headlights sort of way. No, the creature was calm, she could see that in the way it held itself. It was standing in the middle of the road and seemed unconcerned by the imminent collision.

Sarah, on the other hand, was panicking, and swerved to try and avoid the stag. The car careened off the road, crashing into a snowbank. Her head slammed into the airbag, but thankfully it didn't seem like much damage was done to herself or the car. Her bigger concern at the moment was the stag (which in retrospect, Sarah would think to herself, spoke volumes to who she was as a person). She quickly slid out of the car, heart thudding in her chest. The stag continued to stand absolutely still as it stared right at her. She tentatively approached the creature, and as she moved closer, she noticed that it's eyes glowed faintly. She shivered.

"Who are you?" She only felt a little ridiculous for expecting a response.

The stag did not respond. Instead it seemed to consider her, and upon making its appraisal, the stag snorted. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Just as she was beginning to wonder what she should do next, the sound of tires on pavement caught her attention. She turned around and watched as a pick-up truck approached. The truck slowed to a stop, the windows rolling down to reveal two flannel-clad people, each with scruffy beards and kind smiles. "Hey, do you need some help?"

"Uh, yeah, it's just - " She turned back to the stag, but it had vanished. Not run off, vanished without any indication of where it had gone off to. Her shoulders began to tremble. She told herself it was the cold and not a thrumming excitement that pulsed like blood through her veins.

With the help of the truckers, Sarah managed to get her car out of the snow bank. Thankfully, there was not much damage done to the vehicle, just a few dents here and there that she would have to get taken care of after Christmas.

The rest of the ride home was uneventful, though Sarah's mind swirled with questions. What was that stag and what did it want with her? Did it have anything to do with the Labyrinth? With him? Her heart pounded against her breastbone, excitement and unease filling her in equal parts. It had been so long since something inexplicable, something magical had happened to her, she didn't know what to think or do. After the Labyrinth, she spent an inordinate amount of time in the library, researching the mysterious, leather-bound book she had found in her room to not much avail. After dead end after dead end, she eventually gave up, unsure of what she had been looking for to begin with anyway.

As she eased her car into the driveway, she tried to stop thinking about the stag. Focus on being home. Focus on anything else. She cut the engine and took a deep steadying breath. You're home, just be happy. Sarah hopped out of the car and hurried to the front door. Her parents thankfully had seen her pull in and were already at the door ushering her inside.

Karen fussed over her, sitting her down in the kitchen with a blanket and immediately brewing a cup of tea to warm her up. Sarah smiled as Karen and her father asked about her job, if she was dating anyone, etc. She was mostly engaged in the conversation, but every once in awhile her mind would wander and they would have to ask her the same question twice or wave a hand in front of her face to get her attention. Neither thought much of it.

"Always dreaming, that one." Her father said after Sarah spaced out for the umpteenth time.

Karen lightly swatted his shoulder, "She's just tired. It's a long drive."

Sarah bit the inside of her cheek, smiling weakly. "Yeah."

"You should get some rest, tomorrow will be busy."

"And I'm sure Toby will wake everyone up at the crack of dawn," her father added.

Sarah laughed. "There's no doubt about that." She finished her cup of tea. "Alright, I'll head up to bed then, 'night!"

Sarah left the kitchen to a chorus of goodnights. She climbed up the stairs two a time, out of habit more than anything else, and paused outside Toby's room. She knocked on the door. "Toby?"

"Come in!"

Sarah opened the door and found Toby sitting in bed playing something on his gameboy advance. "Hey kiddo."

Toby looked up from his game, a goofy grin taking over his features. "Sarah! You're home!" He slid off the bed, tossed the gameboy onto the covers, and pulled her into a hug. At thirteen, Toby was still shorter than her, but she could tell it wouldn't be long until he overcame her.

She ruffled his hair, "Yup, and I'll be here till after New Year's."

He pumped a fist into the air excitedly, "Yes!"

Sarah laughed. "Alright, I just wanted to say hi before I went to bed, I'm going to head —"

"Wait, before you go, can you tell me a story?"

"You're not too big for a story?" Sarah said teasingly.

"'Course not." Toby slid underneath his covers, snuggling into his bed.

"Okay, what story do you want to hear tonight?"

Toby paused, considering, and then said, "I want to hear the story of the Labyrinth."

Sarah's heart gave a painful squeeze. She wasn't sure why she had told him that story to begin with. Perhaps after running out of stories to tell, she had resorted to one she knew he had never heard before. Or maybe she felt the need to confess, even if she pretended it was a work of fiction plucked from the recesses of her imagination. Regardless, ever since she had told him the story, it remained a favorite of his, and he often asked her to tell it to him again and again. No matter how many times she told it, the guilt never quite stopped lingering. "Sure. Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young girl whose stepmother always made her stay home with the baby…"

"Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up!"

"Go away."

"Come on Sarah, it's Christmas! Get up!"

Sarah sighed into her pillow before rolling over and looking up at her alarm clock. 7:00 AM. "It's too early for this," she grumbled.

"Mom says we can't open presents until you get up."

"Ughhhh, okay, fine," Sarah huffed.

Christmas in the Williams's household was an all day affair that, depending on Toby's level of excitement that particular year, began as early as 7:00 AM with opening gifts. By noon, portions of the extended family would arrive for lunch, egg nog, and more gift opening. By evening, almost the entire extended family would arrive (except for Aunt Susan, who every year had some excuse for missing the celebration, but would promise that she "wouldn't miss it for the world next year!") and all the Williams would pack into the cozy, but not terribly large kitchen and dining room for dinner. Family members would start trickling out around 9:00 PM, and everyone would be gone by 11:00 or 12:00. By then, Toby would be tucked into bed and Sarah, her father, and Linda would have a final cup of mulled wine together in the living room before calling it a night.

That Christmas was just like any other, and just like any other Christmas, it was over before Sarah had fully registered that almost everyone was gone.

"Wine's ready."

Sarah thanked her father as she took a mug of his special, Christmas-only recipe of mulled wine and padded into the living room. Settling onto the couch, Sarah curled her legs beneath her, feeling like a large, very satisfied cat. While she hadn't forgotten about the mysterious stag from the night before, she was too caught up in the day's festivities to think about it for more than a few minutes. She took a sip of the wine, relishing its spiced taste.

"I think I would consider this Christmas a success," Her father said, taking a seat in his favorite armchair.

"It certainly was fun" Linda sipped her tea, a thoughtful expression creasing her brow. "Is it just me, or did George seem unusually quiet this year?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he…"

Sarah laughed quietly into her wine as the two of them began gossiping about various family members. She wondered if the rest of her family ended their Christmas's similarly and what they might say about her. Probably something about me constantly having my head in the clouds. She grinned at the thought. Traveling through a magical Labyrinth certainly managed to keep the dreamer in her alive well into adulthood. It's one thing to believe in magic, and quite another to know it's real.

"Sarah, what do you think?"

Sarah blinked. "I'm sorry, what? I spaced out for a second there."

"We were just saying, what do you think of Bella's new - "

BANG!

The three jumped to their feet, hot wine splashing from their mugs and on to the floor.

"What was that?" Karen asked, eyes wide.

"It sounded like the front door slammed open," Sarah, hand trembling slightly, put down the mug.

"What could possibly have—" Her father cut himself off as the sound of impossibly large footfalls crossing the foyer. "Who's there?" He shouted in a voice that held more conviction than any of them felt.

Sarah bit her lip as the footsteps paused and then continued, heading toward the living room.

"I'm warning you if you come any closer I'll—" The blood drained from his face.

Karen crossed herself.

Sarah frowned. "You again?"

Standing in the entrance of their living room was a large, white bear.