A Very Shin Makoku Krismass

Chapter Two: The Lion of Covenant Castle

The ball felt a little rough in her palm, which was just a fraction too small to hold it comfortably, but Greta liked how heavy and solid it felt, like always. She ran her fingers over the stitching idly, admiring the way the light of dusk fell across the almost perfectly spherical surface.

From a few feet away, Conrart smiled knowingly at Greta's pause and lowered his catcher's mitt. "Is something on your mind?" he inquired gently.

Greta's eyes were wide as she looked up again. She opened her mouth once before hesitating and biting her lip. Just when Conrart thought she might not be ready to talk yet, she mumbled, "Conrad, what does Yuuri like?"

"Well," Conrart started thoughtfully, slipping his mitt off and relaxing his stance. It seemed that they were done with their game of catch for the day. "He likes a whole lot of things... his precious daughter, for example."

Greta rolled her eyes and huffed, moving her hands to her hips. "Conrad," she scolded, "that's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, then?" Conrart returned, smiling playfully.

She hesitated for a long moment, reluctant to reveal her intent. "I meant like... for a present," she admitted at last.

This didn't seem to surprise her adopted uncle in the slightest. "In that case," he mused, "I believe that anything you made would make him very happy."

"That doesn't help," Greta pouted, although her cheeks colored a little with happiness. Having a family was still a new joy to her, after all. "I just don't know what to make for him!"

"There's plenty of time until Krismass," Conrart offered, and when it didn't seem to satisfy the princess, he added, "I'll let you know if I think of anything."

Reluctantly, Greta nodded, "Okay. Thanks, Conrad."

"Of course," he smiled, resting his hands against his knees as he stood from his crouching position. "Shall we call it a night, then? It's getting dark, and I believe Wolfram will be waiting with a storybook for you."

Now, Greta really didn't feel like going to bed. But, she had to admit, story time with Papa Wolfram was one of her favorite things. Truth be told, he was just a better reader than Daddy Yuuri. So, she grinned and crossed the distance to where Conrart stood, slipping one hand into his free hand and swinging the other one by her side, the baseball still clutched within. They had nearly crossed the courtyard when a thought occurred to her, and she turned her head up excitedly to look at Conrart. "Do you know what Yuuri's favorite animal is, Conrad?"

Conrart considered it for a moment before smiling. "I believe he said that he likes... white lions."

"White lions," Greta repeated, looking just a bit astonished.

"It's very like him," Conrart chuckled. After considering it for another moment, Greta nodded her agreement.

~*~*Merry Krismass*~*~

"I could use a new pair of stockings," Doria sighed, leaning her head over her shoulder to rest against the stone wall of the hallway.

Sangria nodded fervently. "I know, I know," she chirped in. "We'll need to tell the whole staff about Krismass, so we can all participate, too."

"Did Lord von Kleist say it was only for nobles?"

"No," Sangria shook her head gravely. "So, I don't see why not."

As she spoke, a glittering silver orb came flying just to the side of her face, close enough to send her hair blowing forward. She 'eeped' softly and followed Doria's lead, leaning against the wall. Fortunately, she managed to keep hold of the basket of laundry she was carrying. The two maids laughed together as she balanced her burden against the wall to free one hand in order to attempt to straighten out her hair again. In the past few days, their gossip breaks had come to double as strategizing time to learn the trajectories of the dangerous decorations Anissina had set up around the castle. When they leaned back out of the way to admire the dance of the globes, they were also actually quite beautiful and, indeed, festive. And, if someone shrieking accompanied by the sound of a crash came from somewhere far-off, it didn't do much to detract from the castle's newfound holiday cheer.

The sound of tiny little pattering feet approaching rapidly did, however, catch the chatting duo's attention.

"Princess Greta!" Doria called to her as she stopped on her heels, bending over to catch her breath. "Is something the matter?"

"I need to," Greta forced out before she needed another puff of air, "bake."

Both maids paused for a beat before sharing a smile. "What would you like to bake, Princess?"

"White lions," Greta answered, her face dead serious.

Despite herself, Doria laughed a little. Sangria looked quizzically down at the little girl. "I'm not sure... that we can do that," she put forth gently.

The determination didn't slip from Greta's face for an instant. "Cookies!" she exclaimed. "White lion cookies!"

"Hmm," Doria hummed thoughtfully. "We can talk to Effe and see what she comes up with."

Greta sucked in her lower lip, looking like she did when she had her first ever taste of Lasagna's time-tested (but bitter) herbal remedy. "No good," she shook her head. "I need to do it on my own, or it won't be special!"

The two maids looked at one another doubtfully. "Maybe with just a little supervision, then?"

Although a big reluctantly, Greta nodded her curly head of hair. "Okay. But I want to start right away!"

Smiling, Sangria and Doria nodded indulgently. The trio made their procession down the hallway, with only the princess short enough to be totally safe from the cascading decorations flying about. Doria had the feeling it was only the beginning of what would be a long day in the kitchens.

~*~*Merry Krismass*~*~

If this continued any longer, Gwendal was going to stride over there and give the little girl a hug. Greta had been sitting at the long table in his office, her shoulders hunched and her lips downturned into a gloomy pout, for roughly half of an hour. She had quite politely asked if it was alright for her to sit there, but had remained reticent when it came to the cause of her misery. This time, when he shot his eyes up from the official form he was barely concentrating on anymore to sneak a glance at her, Greta's big brown eyes were looking right back at him.

"Gwendal," she cried, "I'm a failure."

Her pathetic tone and eyes swimming with tears had an effect akin to that of a physical blow on Gwendal. Shocked and dismayed, his mouth simply hung open for a long moment. "That's not," he croaked awkwardly, before clearing his throat and trying again, "That's not true."

"It is!" Greta practically shouted, jumping off of her perch on the chair, which was very much too tall for her. "I'm not good for anything. I can't even bake a cookie on my own!"

That hadn't exactly been what Gwendal was expecting, either. His mouth worked soundlessly as he struggled to formulate a response. "Baking is very difficult," he stated flatly, although he had all the good intentions in the world. "That's why we have professionals to do it for us. Of course your first try was not perfect."

Greta bit her lip in silent defiance. She lasted a good minute or two before crying out, "It's not just that! I'm no good at anything."

His heart absolutely broken by the adorable little girl's practically tearful face, Gwendal could do nothing but shake his head silently. His expression remained as stoic as usual, but for his widened eyes.

For the first time in a long while, Gwendal felt deeply grateful when Anissina carelessly flung open his door and strode in.

"Gwendal!" she hollered immediately, before turning her head towards him and taking in the scene currently taking place. "Oh, and Princess Greta."

Hearing the voice of her unofficial Auntie and role model, Greta turned her head, her eyes swimming with tears. "Anissina!" she cried, hiccupping.

"Is Gwendal giving you a hard time?" Anissina inquired without hesitation, narrowing her eyes.

Gwendal's mouth snapped shut, his brows furrowing. His old worry lines were back immediately. "Of course not," he grumbled.

"Anissina," Greta repeated sadly, ignoring their exchange. "I can't do anything right. All I wanted was to make something perfect for Yuuri for Chri… Kristmass, but I kept on messing up, and then I thought I finally got it right… but then I found out that Effe had just made a perfect cookie and switched it out with mine when I wasn't looking!" She was sobbing by the time her story was done tumbling out from her lips.

While Gwendal sat totally paralyzed from the trauma of seeing the adorable girl crying, Anissina stepped closer before kneeling and reaching out to run a hand over her curly locks. "Greta," she murmured soothingly, "you know that's not true. You're a girl-and an exceptional one at that. You can do anything you set your mind to. It just takes determination and strength."

Greta's eyes were dry as she nodded, but her lip was quivering faintly.

"You know what," Anissina smirked as she stood up again, determined gaze settling on Gwendal, "you can already do one thing I know of better than this useless old man here."

Gwendal's eyebrow twitched in irritation, but he opted not to comment if he was being used as a tool to make Greta feel better.

"What?" Greta questioned, her eyes wide with astonishment at the idea.

Anissina beamed proudly. "Knitting!"

Although Gwendal was busily attempting to push out the knots in his strained forehead muscles behind her, Greta jumped a little with a huge smile spread on her face. "That's right!" she exclaimed, looking up at Anissina like she was a dazzling star. "That's exactly it! I can knit Yuuri a big white lion!"

"A white lion," Anissina repeated, nodding. Her eyes shone with pride. "That's a wonderful idea. Let me help you pick out the perfect yarn!"

"Oh, thank you, Anissina!"

Gwendal could do nothing but watch the pair exit his office, Anissina striding with her usual confident air and Greta trotting along with a bounce in her step. Although he felt ignored, he was also legitimately relieved, the more he thought about it. One, Greta was sufficiently cheered up. Two, Anissina had left without even stating the business she had come for (which, in all probability, would have ended with Gwendal strapped to some monstrous invention of hers).

His hopes were dashed as, just before she closed the door, Anissina poked her head back in and mouthed the words, "I'll be back."

At the very least, he had some time to prepare a last will. It was more than he could say of most days.

~*~*Merry Krismass*~*~

One stitch at a time. One stitch after another.

That was Greta's mantra as she steadily knitted away. She'd talked over her ambitious plans for the big white lion with Anissina, and procured the loveliest, softest white yarn in the castle, along with two big, black and shiny buttons for the eyes. It was her biggest project ever, but the lion's head, with a curly mane and all, was already coming together. She positively couldn't wait to present it to her father. It was just perfect for him, especially with the big black eyes. Her legs kicked out beneath her with a sudden burst of energy, sending the tablecloth billowing inwards.

Greta's diligent work was only interrupted when a soft voice came from behind her. "Still hard at work, I see."

She turned to see Gisela standing at the doorway with a big smile. It would be a lie to say that Greta was always happy to see the castle's top healer, not when sometimes that meant having to drink bitter medicine, but she did really like talking with her. Gisela was one of her favorite adults, because she was nice but never let anyone push her around. "Yup!" Greta nodded, sending her curly hair bouncing. She'd become a bit infamous in the past week, as she'd been wandering about the castle and settling in different places to work. With her collection of supplies, the little princess could easily end up in the way of whatever work was about, however, so she found herself looking for the most inconspicuous places possible. She was currently in the dining room in between mealtimes. She figured it would be a while until the maids needed to put down the dishes and set the table, so she'd be safe for a good time.

Gisela took a seat opposite her, careful to stay out of the way of the extensive yarn. It was certainly going to be a big lion. "I'm getting my father a present for Krismass, too, you know," she whispered, as if divulging a big secret.

"Really?" Greta asked, her eyes bright with curiosity. "What are you going to get old Günter?"

It always made Gisela chuckle to hear the shockingly impolite ways Greta would come up with to refer to their country's top officials. "I'm making him a special potion, actually," she spoke while glancing about secretively. "He has an old habit of working himself into a frenzy, especially when His Majesty is around. This one's an old, rare remedy to help you relax."

Greta giggled, picturing how Günter flung himself around the castle, his cries of "Your Majesty!" reverberating through the halls. "That sounds great." She kicked her feet some more, watching the needles bob up and down as she knitted away. The lion smiled back at her. "I wonder what everyone else is making."

"Hmm," Gisela joined her in her musing with a playful smile. "I've heard some interesting rumors about that going around."

"Really?" Greta looked up, excited. "Like what?"

Gisela hemmed and hawed for a few seconds, pretending to debate divulging the information, before continuing, "They say that Lord von Voltaire is making something for Lady von Karbelnikoff."

Greta gasped loudly. "No way!" she exclaimed before smiling. "I knew Gwendal was just a big softie! But..."

"But?" Gisela repeated when Greta hesitated.

"I wonder if Anissina feels the same way."

"I wonder," Gisela nodded. "Now, I've only heard this from Sangria when I gave her a check-up yesterday, to be fair. It could just be the usual castle gossip."

"Mm," Greta hummed thoughtfully before the words sunk in. She dropped her knitting immediately and moved to hop down from her chair, but Gisela's hand had already crossed the table and covered her own. "Oh no," she gasped.

"Oh, yes," Gisela smiled, but her eyebrows were set in firm determination. "It's check-up time, Princess."

Greta whined quietly, her bottom lip trembling a little. She hated check-up time.

Gisela retracted her hand, but Greta knew better than to try running off again. The healer nodded in approval. "You can finish your row."

Although with a great sigh, Greta inclined her head in acceptance and picked up her knitting needles again.

~*~*Merry Krismass*~*~

Wolfram had had a very long day. The castle had ascended to even higher levels of insanity ever since the introduction of Günter's Krismass holiday, to the point that even walking through the hallways was a dangerous activity. To be fair, the decking globes had yet to injure anyone they'd impacted, but they'd left all their victims positively covered in glitter, from what he'd heard. The absolute last thing Wolfram needed was the shame of being seen walking around the halls shimmering with the silver stuff. He'd probably gain a new nickname, "Wolfram the Glimmering," or something equally ridiculous. The castle staff had far too much idle time. On top of that, he'd been working hard to keep his efforts towards his gift as discrete as possible, which was a truly laborious task thanks to precisely the same castle staff, with their constantly peeking eyes. They were positively fiendish, particularly when it came to his romantic endeavors towards their monarch. Honestly, it was as if they weren't already engaged!

His mind raveled up in such thoughts, Wolfram barely ducked under a particularly low-swinging globe, a red one with a rather impressively detailed silver snowflake pattern sprinkled over it in glitter. Although he was quite pleased with the object as an artist, he still sighed as he pushed open the doors to his room. Well, properly it was considered the King's room, but he and their daughter were currently the only occupants. Günter's plan to have Ulrike summon Yuuri back for the occasion was the most exciting prospect of this whole Krismass fiasco for him; the months while the King remained on Earth (undoubtedly flirting with everything in sight) made time seem long as it never had before.

He was pleased to find that Greta was already seated on the massive bed, in her nightgown and everything. It was rare for her to be so promptly settled down. She'd normally wait until he arrived, bouncing on the luxurious mattress, and only agree to lie down if he'd tell her a story or teach her something new. He smiled proudly; his daughter had her father's inquisitive soul, that was for sure.

"Greta," he greeted her warmly, already feeling relieved of the day's stress.

Much to his surprise, she jumped and shifted a little. Most likely contrary to her intent, the movement caused the sheet to fall away, revealing yarn spilling over the bed. He stepped closer, and an object came into view from behind Greta. It was a huge, knitted creation, and if he wasn't mistaken, it was an exceptionally palely colored lion. Wolfram blinked, dumbfounded. Its curly mane and big black button-eyes were adorable. It only seemed to be missing hind legs.

"I'm sorry!" Greta cried, gathering up the yarn from around her. "It's just that I'm almost done, and I knew it was bed time, but I really didn't want to stop working. I promise not to leave any on the bed!"

Wolfram was too amazed and proud to be upset about that. "No," he shook his head, "It's alright, as you long as you clean up soon so that we can sleep."

Greta breathed a huge sigh of relief, and her hands went back to busily knitting away.

Eager to get a closer look at his daughter's creation, Wolfram crossed over and sat on the edge of the bed beside her without bothering to get changed out of his uniform first. Tentatively, he reached out a hand to touch one of the curly strands of the mane. It bounced, and he retracted his hand, his mouth hanging open in amazement. "Greta, this is wonderful," he stated with authority, but affection shone through his tone.

Her cheeks colored pink with pleasure, Greta beamed. "Thanks," she answered without stopping her work. "It's for Yuuri... for Ch, Krismass."

Although he briefly wondered why she could never seem to say Krismass right on the first try, Wolfram nodded. "He'll love it," he murmured as he absently stroked the back. It felt nice and soft, like only the creations his elder brother had tried extra hard to make for him as a child.

"Say, Wolfram," Greta started after a few moments when just the soft sound of her needles clicking filled the silence, "what are you getting for Yuuri?"

Wolfram's mouth opened, and then closed. A minute passed. He looked guiltily into the big black buttons on the lion to avoid his daughter's eyes. "Well," he muttered, "I don't want to tell anyone just yet."

Greta frowned. She then resorted to a pout, her big brown eyes boring into Wolfram relentlessly.

Wolfram almost gave in. He wasn't very strong against wide puppy eyes, after all. But, this was something he considered of primary importance. "How about this?" he smiled apologetically at her. "You'll be the absolute first to know, before even Yuuri himself."

Greta liked that idea, even if she couldn't share in the fun secret right away. "Okay!" she nodded.

He had a hard time convincing her, but eventually Wolfram managed to get Greta to put down her needles and get to sleep. She'd be done in one more day, and the month was hardly half over.

~*~*Merry Krismass*~*~

"I don't know, Wolf," Cäcilie muttered, her bright red lips pouting as she focused her attention on the parchment covering the desk.

"Mother," Wolfram whined, although he would have starkly denied that it was a whine if questioned. His hands were perched pointedly on his hips. "It needs to be like that, though, or it won't mean anything."

With a flick of her palm, Cäcilie sent an errant long blonde curl back over her shoulder. "I'll need to try a few things out."

Although he still looked reluctant, Wolfram nodded. "Yes. I'll do some more research, as well," he exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair.

"It wouldn't do to have your mommy take care of everything, after all," Cäcilie giggled. "Not when it comes to el, oh, vee-"

"Mother!" Wolfram yelled, cutting her off. His cheeks were stained a deep crimson.

"Oh, come now, Wolf," she crooned. "You can talk about this kind of stuff with your mother! I'm always looking out for my babies, you know that. And, like I always say, you're already doing better than either of your older brothers..."

His face still flaming, Wolfram slammed his palms down on the wooden surface of the desk. "Mother!" he repeated, louder this time.

Before Cäcilie could embarrass her son any further, the door creaked open just slightly from behind him. A little voice drifted in. "Lady Cäli?"

"Greta, dear!" Cäcilie called out boisterously, motioning although the door still separated them. "Do come in, please."

Despite the permission, Greta still looked a bit sheepish as she poked her head around the door and stepped inside. She'd been taught to be very careful to make sure it was alright to enter Cäcilie's quarters, thanks to her rather brazen manner of bursting into almost any other room. No one wanted the precious little princess to see anything she really would be better off learning about once she was a good deal older.

"Greta," Wolfram nodded, a rather curt greeting that doubled as a parting. "I'll see you tonight, okay?"

He had brushed past the door already by the time Greta chirped back, "Okay, Wolfram!"

While Greta was busy puzzling over Wolfram's rather odd behavior, Cäcilie swiftly wrapped up the parchment they'd been pouring over, and shifted it to the side of the desk. She then beamed at Greta. "What brings me the joy of your company today, dear?"

Greta smiled wide in return. She loved being around Granny Cäli. The warm and motherly woman always made her feel happy and loved. "Well, actually, I was wondering... if you could help me out with something."

"And what would that be?" Cäcilie asked with a knowing glimmer in her eyes. Greta wasn't the first to come to her in the wake of Günter's announcement, after all.

Greta bit her lip gently, her eyes shifting around. "It's about my present for Yuuri."

"Ooh," Cäcilie leaned forward. "I've heard all about how hard you've been working."

"Really?" Greta's eyes opened wide in amazement. Her cheeks colored a little, too, at the idea that people were talking about her like that.

"Of course," Cäcilie nodded, sending one of her blonde curls back over her shoulder. She didn't bother fixing it. "Everyone's said it's coming out wonderfully."

Greta lowered her face to hide her huge grin. "Well," she muttered, "I finished the knitting part. But..."

Cäcilie tilted her head quizzically. "But...?"

"I feel like it's missing something," Greta confessed, lifting up her head to look into Cäcilie's warm green eyes.

Humming thoughtfully, Cäcilie put a single slim finger to her lips. "Now, from what I heard, it's a lion, correct?"

Greta nodded. "Well... I was thinking..." she hesitated, sheepishly twirling one of her baby curls with a finger. "I thought he might look nicer with a pretty collar..."

Although she looked surprised, Cäcilie quickly smiled. "That's a great idea!" she exclaimed, standing up. "And you've come to just the right person. I can help you find a lovely collar for him."

Greta cheered, bouncing on her heels a little. "Thanks, Granny Cäli!" she cried happily.

Cäcilie took the girl's little hand in her own as an answer, starting to lead them out of the room as she chattered, "Now, what sort of stone were you thinking would look nice?"

As the door closed behind her, Greta shyly answered, "Well, I thought maybe... emerald..."

~*~*Merry Krismass*~*~

Krismass, Josak approximated, was the best holiday ever created.

At the very least, it was the best spectacle Shin Makoku had as of yet. When he'd come back from his latest assignment and started off down the halls to report to Lord von Voltaire, and he'd wound up with a mysterious globe in his face, his whole upper half positively saturated with glitter, he'd known right away that whatever was going down, was exactly the kind of thing he went for. With the excess glitter brushed off, he'd looked positively dazzling for the rest of the day, too. The maids even giggled extra hard when he winked at them as he passed. He couldn't have been in a better mood. He'd gotten the low-down on Krismass from Conrart, and found it only got better. The real treasure of the festive spirit was even better than the dance of sparkling globes decking the hallways; he got to spend a whole month watching everyone trying to discretely prepare the flashiest presents possible for their chosen beloved. The gossip material was insane.

Sangria had passed him a tip about Lord von Bielefeld's wily ways earlier that day. The bratty prince was being particularly slippery when it came to discovering his plans, much to Josak's surprise. It was close to hurting his pride as a spy. Even the latest development, that evidently Lady Cäcilie was in on it, had ended up falling through. He'd brought in a bottle of wine and sat down for a long chat, but the former Queen did indeed hold her alcohol admirably well. She didn't say a peep about the plans for the grand present once he slipped it into the conversation. With Cäcilie's lips sealed, that left no one to interrogate but Wolfram himself, and Josak didn't feel like losing the tips of his hair to errant fireballs. He quite liked how it had been growing out lately, in fact.

Conrart was being his usual secretive self about the matter, as well. As much as he would have liked to pretend that it was because the present might be for him, Josak didn't doubt for a second that it was for His Majesty. A little extra spying, which the experienced soldier undoubtedly knew about and had simply allowed, confirmed his suspicions. He was heading into town, seemingly wandering through randomly and stopping into homes. It wasn't quite enough intel to reveal the identity of the present, but he knew that on the off chance it was for him, he would have seen his old friend stopping into his favorite tailor's place.

The rest of the castle's inhabitants, to Josak's relief, were not quite so intent on concealing their endeavors. Or, if they were, they simply weren't very skilled at keeping secrets. Greta, the little dear, had been all about the castle with her over-sized ball of yarn. He'd watched with no small degree of amazement as the yarn took shape over the days into the cutest knitted toy he'd seen around the castle (although, in fairness, a large majority of the ones about were Gwendal's creations). The last time he'd caught sight of her treasured creation, the little guy was even sporting a luxurious black collar with an emerald glistening in the center. It was really an impressively sweet gesture, and it would surely remind the King of his most treasured friends, although Greta possibly didn't even understand the significance of the lion. Well, he certainly hoped she hadn't caught wind of many war stories. Meanwhile, he'd overheard Gisela chatting with the head gardener, and it seemed that she was cooking up something for her father, as well. Anissina's present, whoever it was for, didn't seem to be distinguishable from her usual fare. No one really needed to ask whom Günter had chosen, of course, although the exact present was a mystery. The Lord was in such a frenzy over Krismass in general that no activity of his seemed particularly suspect at this point.

So basically, the only presents people knew about so far were the less juicy ones. He had been betting on Lord von Bielefeld's present involving silk sheets and rose petals, and he wasn't sure whether the news of Lady Cäcilie's involvement strengthened or weakened that possibility. Himself, he was half tempted to gift Conrart some lacey lingerie and pass it off as a joke. He had to chuckle even just picturing it. Contrary to his demeanor most of the time, there were moments when even Conrart lost his composure, and Josak prided himself on being able to pull ridiculous enough stunts to create said moments. His only competition was the young King, really.

A crash from below him shook Josak out of his musings. He was perched on the roof of the stables, one of his favorite places just to relax and feel the wind over his cheeks. He preferred the tops of towers back in the castle, but last time Lasagna had caught him up there, she'd nearly had a heart attack and forbidden him from putting his life at risk like that. Beneath him, Dacascos seemed to be struggling under a massive burden. Casting an eye about the scene, Josak spotted what he suspected to be the origin of the crashing noise. What appeared to be a massive, twining branch had fallen from the burlap sack poor Dacascos had slung over his shoulder. His whole body was hunched over under the weight, and his face was twisted into an expression of such despair that it would have been heart breaking if it had not been so comical. Josak snorted.

"Oh, Lord von Kleist is going to be so angry if he finds out..." He heard Dacascos muttering, his chest heaving in a deep sigh.

Although he enjoyed many a chuckle on the other's behalf, Josak was not a man without human empathy. He'd surely slide down from the roof and help the unfortunate soldier out-in a minute.

~*~*Merry Krismass*~*~

Greta stared searchingly into the black depths before her.

They stared right back, unblinking.

Her big brown eyes did eventually need to close, but they were back open again in a flash. She frowned in concentration. Several long moments passed of the intense stare-down, with neither party budging an inch. The woolen lion was still smiling at her just as it always been, ever since she'd knitted in its mouth. At last, Greta gave a long grumble out of sheer frustration.

"What's missing?" she pondered aloud, moving her stare to focus on the lovely collar now adorning the lion's proud mane. It was truly eye-catching, perhaps more expensive than could ever be justified for a toy. But something still felt incomplete about her present. Frowning deeply, Greta reached out her short arms to grab hold of her creation, lifting it up to place it on one of her shelves where she kept her storybooks and knitting projects. It still felt so pleasantly odd to have her own little spaces dedicated to her stuff. When she placed the big lion on the relatively narrow shelf, however, it jostled a stack of books above it, and knocked over her other favorite knitted creation-the likeness of Yuuri she'd managed to make-sending him flopping right down onto the lion's back.

Greta gasped, her eyes wide in amazement. "That's it!" she exclaimed, taking up the little knitted doll and adjusting him to a more suitable riding position. "That's what it's missing!"

She smiled widely, clutching the pair in her little hands. No, she decided after studying them for another moment-there was still one thing missing before the present would be complete. And she knew exactly what it was.