Author's Note: Hello, everyone...

This was an AU story idea that was holiday-themed that I had for awhile and later upon rediscovering it within my documents placed the finishing touches on it. I've seen a multitude of different AU stories that take place in WWII or similar periods in time and this was me from awhile back trying my hand at creating a Christmas story taking place during a point in time such as that.

I must make it clear that I am in no way an expert on the subject matter of what life or a holiday celebration might have been like during then, so the scenery and whatnot within this story is strictly coming from my own imagination.

Hopefully I've done a good job at creating an idea of what Zootopia would've looked like had it taken place then, and I do hope that you enjoy reading it as well. This one is a little more on the bittersweet end compared to other stories that are about the holidays I've written in the past, but I do hope it's an enjoyable read for you all.

I also have several different Christmas stories planned out as well that I'll be sharing soon if my schedule, which has been getting busier as of recent, allows.

And as always, your feedback, whether good or bad, is gladly appreciated.

Disclaimer: This story was in no way inspired by or commentating on any currently ongoing conflicts in real life and was written solely as a work of fiction.

The Wilde-Hopps household stood nestled in the heart of Zootopia, adorned with patriotic banners that were a symbol of resilience against the challenges of an era that they would never forget. Despite the harsh realities that came with what had been declared, Judy worked to create a haven of warmth within their home during the Christmas season.

The air still lingered with the aroma of baked gingerbread cookies from earlier, mingling festively with the scent of cinnamon and pine. The crackling fire in the hearth cast a warm glow, while the soft and slow melody of a holiday carol crackled from a radio that was next to where she was seated. The Christmas tree, adorned with paper ornaments crafted by Noah's tiny paws, stood tall in the corner of the living room. The few merry strands of twinkling lights reflected in Judy's eyes as she hummed along with the radio, its melody continuously weaving through the cozy space.

The click-clack of Judy's crochet needle echoed in the cozy living room. Wrapped in her favorite floral dress and seated in her favorite armchair, Judy deftly worked on a vibrant scarf, a gift she planned to give for the holidays to Mrs. Otterton who lived next-door. Beside her, a basket of colorful yarn remained spilled over.

Perched on the floor was her son Noah Wilde. Playing with a wooden toy car in his paw, the young kit rolled it across the rug, mimicking the sounds an automobile made as it drove down a street. Every now and then, he glanced up at his mother with bright eyes, ready to assist her in any way he could.

"Mom, do you need the green yarn next?" Noah asked, his voice a delightful blend of curiosity and eagerness.

Judy beamed at her kit's willingness to help. "Yes, sweetie, that would be perfect. Thank you for being my little helper."

Noah toddled over to the basket, his small frame barely able to contain his excitement. With determination befitting a kit twice his age, he plucked the green yarn from the basket and handed it to his mother. With each skein of colorful yarn that he handed to her, the scarf gradually grew longer as it was stitched with meticulous precision.

As Judy paused her crocheting to gaze out the nearby frost-kissed window, she wondered about her husband serving on the front lines. The evening sky mirrored the uncertainty of the times, but a flicker of hope remained in her eyes. Although it was cold winter's nights like these that made her miss the company of her beloved fox, the positivity remained that he would return to her and Noah very soon. The celebration of the country's victory together as a family, safe and sound and without any more fears, was what she would cling onto the most in times likes these.

Noah, sensing his mother's quiet contemplation, looked up from his toy and over at her. "Mom, do you think Daddy will get our letter?" The little one's voice was filled with hope, breaking her mind's silent contemplation.

Judy's eyes softened with love and tousled his ears. "Oh, sweetheart, I believe he will. Nothing can keep our letters from reaching him."

A second question arose from Noah about his father that he missed very much this holiday season. "Do you think Daddy's warm? And well-fed?" It hadn't been easy not seeing him for so long, and quite often he wondered about how he was doing where he was.

As she gently smiled at him, his leporine mother replied, "I'm sure he is, my dear. Your Daddy's strong and brave, just like you."

Noah returned an equally warm smile back to his mom. "And you think he'll like the drawing I made for him?

"He'll love it. It's a piece of your heart, and that's the best gift anyone could ask for right now."

Meanwhile...

The campfire crackled and flickered, casting dancing shadows on the faces of the soldiers huddled around it. Nick, dressed in military garb, sat beside Benjamin Clawhauser, a cheetah soldier known for his jovial spirit, and two other comrades from different corners of the country – two no-nonsense wolves that went by the names of Gary and Larry.

Nick stirred the contents of his mess tin, a concoction of army rations that attempted to mimic a hearty stew. Clawhauser, ever the optimist, grinned as he stirred his own tin.

"You know," the feline soldier said, "I heard they're working on a new recipe for this stuff. Might taste like actual food someday!"

Gary chuckled, his ears twitching. "Well, if they need help in the kitchen, I've got a few ideas. A pinch of sugar can do wonders when it comes to flavor, you know."

Larry, more focused on the task at hand, surveyed their surroundings. "Let's hope our allies are putting their efforts into better things than improving this mystery stew."

Nick smirked. "You've got a point, Larry. But hey, at least this stuff is edible..."

As the soldiers finished their makeshift dinner, the atmosphere around the campfire buzzed with a mix of camaraderie and quiet contemplation. Nick leaned back against a rough-hewn log, his thoughts momentarily drifting to the home he left behind. Just then, Sergeant Rhinowitz, a stern but fair figure, approached the group. He carried a small stack of mail in his paw, a mixture of envelopes and parcels.

"Alright," the rhino said in his scruff tone of voice. "We've got some mail for the four of you."

Nick's ears perked up, and a glimmer of anticipation sparked in his eyes. He accepted the first envelope at the top of the stack they received from Sergeant Rhinowitz, noticing the familiar handwriting before even opening it. He glanced at the return address, a smile forming as he recognized Judy's meticulous script. The weight of the letter in his paw held more than just paper; it contained the warmth of home, a connection to a world he longed to return to.

Sergeant Rhinowitz, more observant than his stern exterior let on, gave Nick a nod. "Got a letter from the missus, Wilde?"

Nick's grin widened. "Yes, Sergeant. A little piece of home to keep me going."

With that, he carefully opened the envelope, revealing Judy's heartfelt and poetic words, penned in their ever-so-familiar cursive:

Nick,

I hope this letter finds you safe and well, my love. The warmth of our humble home carries with it the love and thoughts of Noah and me. As I sit by the fire, the crocheting needle in hand, I can't help but imagine you here with us, sharing in the cozy glow of Christmas.

The Christmas tree, adorned with paper ornaments Noah crafted with care, stands tall in the corner, casting a festive shimmer across the room. The scent of cinnamon and pine fills the air, a reminder of the holidays we've spent together.

Noah, our little artist, insisted on drawing a picture for you. It's a snowy scene with you, him, and me, side by side, wearing the warm scarves I made for us. His eyes gleamed with joy as he carefully placed it in the envelope, hoping it would bring you a smile.

The radio softly plays familiar tunes, echoing through the house. It's our way of keeping the spirit of the season alive, even in your absence. The singing and the sounds of vevlety pipes by Jerry Vole, though coming from a small radio, feels like a connection to the world we hope to see again soon.

As I sit here crocheting, I can't help but glance out at the snow as it falls, wondering where you are and praying for your safe return. The cold and snowy landscape mirrors the uncertainty of these times, but within our home, there is a sanctuary of love and hope.

Noah, with his innocent heart, asks about you every day. He wonders if you've received our letters and how you are doing, and I assure him that his father is strong and brave, fighting for a future where families like ours can celebrate Christmas together again.

Nick, my love, we miss you dearly. This Christmas may find us separated by miles, but our hearts remain intertwined. With each stitch of the crochet needle, with each note from the radio, and with every flicker of the Christmas lights, we hold on to the hope that the New Year will bring us back together.

Until then, know that you are in our thoughts, our prayers, and in the very essence of this humble home. Merry Christmas, my darling, and may the coming year bring us the victory and reunion we dream of.

With all my love,

Judy and Noah.

As he finished reading the last bits of the letter from his bunny back in Zootopia, the strains of harmonica music from the nearby tent seemed to harmonize with the distant memories of a cozy home, a Christmas tree adorned with paper ornaments, and the promise of a reunion beyond the front lines. Despite the challenges, he too believed that they would be victorious into the New Year and he would be safe and reunited with his family very soon.

In that quiet moment, surrounded by fellow soldiers, Nick Wilde found solace in the connection forged by something as simplistic as that simple letter, a thread that tied him to the love, warmth, and hope of home. The handmade drawing that was enclosed on a second piece of paper from Noah added a touch of innocence to the reality that was being faced, and a bittersweet smile touched Nick's face as he held the letter and drawing close to his heart.