Cad was making himself busy around the barn. Buddy had dropped off Simon and Veronica at their stations, but he stayed in the stables to oversee the other elves. In particular, he directed Cad around with an angry scowl on his face; but when he scolded his subordinates, they merely laughed with a jingle-bell giggle. Finally, after Buddy had given Cad the tour around and threw a wide pitchfork into his hands, the angry elf left.

Cad cast a glance around the stable. Most of the reindeer were already outside, and two elves were leading out the final one. Cad twirled his pitchfork and stomped into one of the stalls. Peering over the wall to watch what the elf in the next stall, Cad copied whatever it did. He scooped out the reindeer manure into the nearby wheelbarrow, then the wet wood shavings, then the dry…

"Hiya, newbie!" exclaimed a high-pitched voice. Cad turned around. Behind him, were three elves. Two of them were standing around with big smiles on their little faces, while the third grunted to lift up the wheelbarrow. Cad glanced over to the neighboring stall, realizing that one of these elves was the one he had been copying.

"Buddy's already got you mucking, huh?" asked another elf, and the three of them started chittering.

Cad turned his ear back, feeling awkward, and went back to picking at the spare scraps of hay that lay at the bottom of the stall.

"I'll sweep that out for you!" said another one of the elves. It pointed behind its back to an area of the barn that led into the workshop, where a big walk-in cooler laid. "You just get the new bales!"

"Needs a little de-stinking anyway," said another one, rubbing a claw against its chin thoughtfully.

Cad nodded. He stepped out of the stall and laid his fork against the stable, silently going around them to where he was told. As he did, he looked around the barn for any amount of ruckus he could cause. It was a big barn with the same wood-shaved flooring as the stables. At the moment, other herds of elves grouped around their assigned sections. There were too many eyes for Cad to do anything at that exact moment… nor did he see anything special that could mess up the place.

As Cad dawdled around, he suddenly felt the lash of a cold, snowy wind whip across his back. When the sharp pinpricks faded, he snapped around on his heel, expecting to see the bright red form of Underdog ready to tackle him.

What he saw was approximately the size and color of Underdog, but as Cad looked him over, he was far too thin. Additionally, his blue cape was missing and, when Cad really squinted, his sweater seemed to be lined with fur. In fact, he had a red fur hat as well. Cad took in his face, then—it was not doglike at all. His snout was short, more feline than anything, and his fur was a soft ginger with slightly darker stripes.

Cad's eyes went wide. "Dad?" he gasped before he could stop himself, then he slapped his hands over his mouth.

Around him, the herd of elves gathered in a crowd around the newcomer. The cat let out a jolly laugh, a "HO-HO-HO!"

That was when Cad realized.

The red elf Buddy stood beside him while Santa Claws looked over each of his elves, talking to the ones closest to him gently. Then, he raised his voice to address the whole barn. His voice was warm and rich, but it cracked on a few words as if it was an impression. "I wished to stop by to ensure that everything is going well before the big day!" he announced, "It seems I've come a little too early."

The crowd of elves jingled a laugh.

His eyes scanned all across the barn and the workers until they landed on the tallest elf—namely, Cad. The big dog stiffened up, suddenly worried that he was caught. And before he could get away with anything!

"Ah," said Santa. The eyes of all the other elves turned to Cad as well. Santa continued, "You must be our South Pole transfer. I hope you are getting on well?"

Cad gulped thickly. His voice caught in his throat. Instead of answering with something cool, Cad smiled awkwardly and gave two shaking thumbs-up.

Santa laughed his jolly laugh again. "Then I will let you all get back to work!" he announced, voice still trilling with his chuckle, "There is still much to do and much to look over."

He gave Buddy a little pat on the head, then turned on his heel and padded out the stable door the way he had come, his leather boots clicking on the wooden floor.

Buddy raised a finger to point, himself stating, "I will return in just a moment. In the meantime, GET BACK TO WORK!"

And as quick as a flash, in a little cloud of kicked-up sawdust, the elves returned to their respective stables. Each little lifeform nearly ran Cad over, spinning him around until he was dizzy and unaware. He stumbled over slightly, catching one hand on his knee while the other held his head.

Trying to gain back his bearings, Cad closed his eyes. With his back toward the great barn door, he didn't notice a little creature coming up behind him. The little creature huffed, pawed at the ground, and rushed toward him.

"ACK—!" Cad exclaimed as a blunt force rammed into his butt. He stumbled, but luckily, the creature who shoved him was so small that he didn't actually fall over. Around, the elves laughed their jingle-bell laughs. Cad felt his face heat up, and then angrily stomped around to find which of the jerks it was. As he did, he raised a quivering fist to get back at whoever had done it..

When he turned, however, he did not find an elf. Instead there was a little reindeer, covered in white fuzz everywhere except its nose and its back. It looked like a burnt marshmallow. Cad only grew confused as he looked at it. He couldn't bring himself to hit it.

In his hesitation, the little reindeer again pawed the ground, and again coiled up to ram him..

"Woah, woah, woah!" came the stern voice of an elf. A streak of red crossed Cad's vision, and in just a moment, he saw Buddy throw his arms around the calf's neck. "Bad Vixie!" he scolded, "Bad!"

Despite its anger, the little reindeer—Vixie—huffed one last time and grumbled. Buddy released her neck and patted her round head.

"Sorry about her," said the elf, "She's rude. Just like her mama." Then he turned away from Cad and put two claws in either corner of his mouth, blowing out a whistle that reverberated off the walls. Cad whimpered, slamming his hands over his ears—as if the elf's voices weren't high enough!

Cad was the only one who seemed to have a problem, as the numerous other elves who milled about the barn suddenly came stampeding up in front of Buddy.

Buddy cleared his throat before addressing them. "The kitchen staff has given us some fresh cookie prototypes, I left them in the freezer," he said. Then, his face became a richer red and he sternly pointed a finger across the gathered crowd. "And absolutely no feeding them to the reindeer! Last time Rudolph ate one we had to wrap his muzzle in lights."

All the elves chittered to eachother, except for one—the soft green of its cheeks had turned to a rich pine in its embarrassed, glowing flush.

Buddy's own complexion cleared as he scratched Vixie's shoulders. "And after that you're free to go on—"

The crowd of elves didn't wait for him to finish. In one multicolored cloud, they all rushed out of the stable before a single bell could ring.

"—break," Buddy concluded, sounding defeated. He hummed, then craned his neck up to Cad. "That goes for you too, newbie. Need me to show you the break room?"

Cad felt his nerves flare. With every elf out of the stable, he'd have the perfect opportunity to mess things up—the only question was what.

"Uhh…" Cad droned. He raised a hand as if to brush aside the suggestion, "No thanks. I think I'll, uh, stick around here. Get myself… really familiar with everything."

The bell atop Buddy's nightcap jingled as he nodded. "Suit yourself," he answered. Without another word, he began to mutter at Vixie and wrestle her back out to the pasture. The reindeer whimpered and whinnied the entire time.

Cad didn't stick around to watch. Instead, he made his way toward the walk-in cooler stashed away in the stable's corner. In the elf's haste to grab their cookies and leave, they had left its door open. Standing in the middle, perched upon a stool, was the tray of cookies. Cad picked one up to examine.

It was squishy under his fingers, save for a few chunks of whatever candy had gotten inside it. Cad couldn't be too careful—after all, Veronica was in the bakery, and who knew what she was up to. He broke the soft cookie in half to peer inside. Not spotting anything that looked like a razor or a nail, he took himself a bite.

Cad wasn't sure he could describe what the flavor was. It was mapley, maybe like cinnamon, kinda minty, certainly full of butter—was that a marshmallow?—maybe caramel, or vanilla. His tooth definitely struck a chocolate chunk. One thing was for certain, Cad concluded as he swallowed his bite: one whole cookie could give a mortal man like him a heart attack.

He shivered as his teeth began to hurt. He had to get rid of this cookie somehow.

Just then, he heard a scuff on the wooden floor outside. Cad turned around to face the door of the cooler. Tucked in the corner, and slightly startled that she had been caught, stood Vixie. Cad tapped his finger against the quarter-piece of the cookie, suddenly getting an idea.

"C'mere, baby!" he cooed, holding out the small piece of cookie.

Vixie snorted. Despite that, she crawled slowly forward with her head low.

"S'alright!" Cad told her, trying not to smile too wide.

Vixie let out a noise like a growl. Cad remained sturdy, still presenting her with the chunk of cookie. Finally, Vixie lifted her nose to give it a tentative sniff. She recoiled at the sweetness and stared at it for a moment. Then, despite her misgivings, ate it anyway.

Cad laughed to himself. "Good girl!"

Underdog was not a cuddly person, but even he had to admit that Polly was a good cuddle-buddy. Her ears and chest were always soft, but in the winter, when she didn't shave as often, she was even softer. They were snuggled together in the window seat under a huge sherpa blanket, so big that it nearly rose to Underdog's nose and still piled over itself on the floor.

Underdog hadn't noticed so much in the cold, but now that he was bundled up beside the fire, he felt the fact that his paws were frozen and his lungs were wheezy and his nostrils burnt. Polly was contentedly dozing, scratching her claws against the embroidery on his uniform.

The hero couldn't put his brain to rest. He kept glancing outside through the window, down into the stables below, to see if anything was remiss. Alongside that, he kept his ears perfectly tuned to pick out any ruckus from within the workshop.

It seemed his efforts were fruitless, however, as he heard the door of the den open long before he heard any approaching footsteps.

Underdog placed Polly gently aside before leaping up, ready to fight whichever villain that had come in. Rather than some sort of maniacal laugh and the ring of a charging laser gun, however, Underdog heard only a warm chuckle and the tinkle of porcelain.

He turned his gaze upward. He had… forgotten that Mrs. Claus had promised to bring them drinks. Underdog nervously drew his fists behind his back. Polly began to stir.

Mrs. Claus kneeled down to Underdog's level to hand him one of her drinks. It was an amber liquid in a small wine glass. "This should help with your sinuses," she said with a wink, before rising to give Polly hers.

Underdog examined his glass for a moment, then downed the shot with little other hesitation. He refused to believe that Mrs. Claus would steer him wrong. For a moment, his drink was nice—it was rich with all the Christmas-y flavors: vanilla, cinnamon, licorice… until a certain familiar burn kicked in as it coated the back of his tongue. Underdog wretched a little at the unexpected sensation, stumbling over himself.

Brandy— he concluded as he swallowed— of course.

Underdog turned gravely over his shoulder as he heard Polly and Mrs. Claus laughing at him. He swallowed his tongue back into his mouth and cleared his throat. Mrs. Claus floated back over to him, patting his head. "Good job," she smiled, this time handing him a more traditional mug, "Here you are. Hot cocoa, your favorite."

Underdog briefly opened his mouth to ask how she knew that—but considering everything else about her and the other elves, he refrained. He took a gulp of the cocoa, the hazelnutty flavor of it washing away the remains of the alcohol. He licked the line of wetness off his upper lip, and found that it wasn't twinged with the salt of his snot. Polly began to chat quietly with Mrs. Claus, so Underdog decided to take his leave to the easy-chair closer to the fireplace.

However, he could only take a few steps before a loud shriek pierced through his ears. Underdog choked on his cocoa and slapped a hand over his mouth so it wouldn't come out. He whipped around to Polly and Mrs. Claus, who seemed to have heard the noise as well. Polly turned to look out the window, and the big form of Mrs. Claus straightened up to stare as well. Underdog weaseled his way in between them for his own peek.

"Someone down there must have caused that shout," Underdog muttered, turning to Polly, "It will be our crooks, I have no doubt."

Polly nodded to him, moving to step off of the window seat. Underdog followed her as they both rushed toward the door to investigate.

"Oh, no!" Mrs. Claus scolded, lifting one of her hands.

Immediately, Underdog and Polly stopped in their tracks and turned back to her. They both made themselves small and their eyes went wide as the huge spirit turned over her shoulder sternly. Her body followed her head as she neared the pair of dogs.

"Neither of you are going anywhere until you finish your drinks," she ordered them, "You will catch no crooks if you're cold!"

Underdog patted his hands against his pockets, then looked at his empty palms blankly. He hadn't even realized he'd set the cocoa down in his rush.

Soon enough, Underdog, Polly and Mrs. Claus were rushing down to the stables. Underdog laid one hand on the snowy wooden beam of the fence, and shielded his eyes with the other as he looked upon the reindeer's grazing field. Instead of the lively prancing he had expected of the whimsical caribou, all he saw were various lumps of brown, each steadily gathering snowfall.

Mrs. Claus pushed open a wooden gate with a rusty creeaak. She stomped into the field with Underdog and Polly hot behind her.

Then came a pathetic bleeaat!

Underdog lifted his foot suddenly, tumbling over himself and landing butt-first in the snow. When he looked up, he saw a little face. It was white and had beady black eyes, but its nose was gently dusted with dark brown, like a toasted marshmallow. It bleated again, revealing its little pink tongue.

Immediately, Mrs. Claus knelt down beside the calf. She brushed the snow off its back and felt it all over. Polly fell down beside her, gently stroking the calf's head as it whined.

"Polly," Underdog muttered, "You've been a farmhand before. What do you think makes them so sore?"

Polly gazed out upon the numerous ill reindeer, then turned back to the calf in her arms. "I've only ever dealt with cows," she laughed, "Maybe... a... stomachache?"

At the same moment, Mrs. Claus pushed one of her mittened hands over the reindeer calf's stomach, and the calf let out a squeaky cry.

Mrs. Claus drew back. "You must be right," she concluded as she stood up. She turned around to survey the field with a sigh. "Every year," she explained, "we let all of our elves try our newest cookie flavor. And every year, the reindeer beg for them. Now, mind you, our reindeer love their sweet treats as much as the elves do—but they are merely reindeer. Every year we tell the elves to not give the team their cookies, and every year, like clockwork, someone gives in."

Underdog and Polly frowned at eachother. Then Underdog put his hand in the snow and stood. "But if it's just a stomachache," he argued, "Surely they will be fine before Christmas daybreak?"

"Oh, they're alright now," Mrs. Claus blinked down at him. "Reindeer are more dramatic than much else. They hurt a little, sure, as much as any wild deer eating the wrong thing. Oh, but how my husband spoils them—no, they will want a perfect meal before they feel better."

Polly was still petting the calf. "But what about this baby?" she asked, her eyes big and wet. "I think she really is sick."

Mrs. Claus hummed, a trilling sound, and knelt beside the calf again. "She may be," she answered, "This is our youngest yearling. Little Vixie, we call her—she is the elder Vixen's newest daughter. This must be her first Christmas."

Underdog crossed his arms. The little calf—Vixie—rubbed her head against Polly's gentle strokes, curling her body up tighter. She shivered.

"Then she has never experienced this cookie scare," he concluded, "Tell us, then, madam. What is our standard of care?"

"The kitchen will assist us," she said simply. "A simple diet of their mosses, oats and candy canes shall right them."

Underdog nodded and prepared to head that direction. Mrs. Claus did as well, so the hero quickly followed her. However, when he listened, he only heard one set of crunching footsteps. He looked down to find that Mrs. Claus left no trail behind her. And, now that he had stopped, the noise ceased. He turned over his shoulder to gaze at Polly. She continued to kneel beside the little reindeer, still twirling her fur and looking upon her sadly.

Underdog hurried back to her. He offered her a hand. Polly looked up at him, her sapphire eyes still big and almost as damp as the calf's own. "She'll be alright," he tried to comfort her. "We'll take care of her."

"I worry," Polly muttered, brushing a bit of snow off Vixie's back. "She's so cold."

"She's a reindeer, she can handle it."

Polly turned away from him noncommittally. Underdog retracted his hand, raising a finger to his mouth as he hummed. He glanced behind him, back to where Mrs. Claus was striding away. Another reindeer had come up to her, this one an adult, with a dark brown coat and massive antlers. It pitifully nuzzled Mrs. Claus's hand.

Underdog hopped up to begin floating and rushed over to her, trying not to kick up the snow.

"Mrs. Claus?" he asked meekly. The great elf turned to him, looking stern. It sent a shiver like dripping ice down Underdog's spine, but he tried not to let it affect him. He sighed out a cloud. "Should we put the little one in the barn?" he asked.

Mrs. Claus glanced back in that direction. She stared, for a moment, at Polly still kneeling by the baby. Finally she answered, "If she is so worried about her. The farmhands won't like the mess she makes, but they should not have gotten themselves into this mess."

Underdog nodded and floated back over. He landed on his knees in the snow, assessing the situation. He had never picked up a caribou calf before... not even a cow or any similar creature.

"How, uh," he asked Polly, his voice soft, "How do you lift a cow?"

Polly sniffled, but a smile crossed her face as she wiped one of her eyes. "With a crane, generally."

Underdog hummed. Tossing a glance around the snowy pasture, he didn't see anything even remotely motorized.

"But," Polly continued, "She's only a baby. Not much larger than a... golden retriever, really. Do you know how to lift a big dog?"

"I lift you," Underdog answered.

"I meant a feral one," Polly giggled.

Underdog shrugged.

Polly nodded. She scratched the side of Vixie's face, and leaned down slightly to speak to her. "We're gonna pick you up, okay? We're gonna make you better."

Vixie huffed. Her stomach grumbled.

Underdog dove his hands into the snow, flinching at the cold. Carefully he roped his hands beneath Vixie's chest, then beneath her rump. Then, getting one foot beneath himself, Underdog groaned as he lifted the little reindeer. Vixie squealed as well, and Polly leapt up quickly to console her.

Underdog pressed Vixie close to his chest and, pushing off the ground as he took a step, flew over to the stable doors. Polly ran beside him, unlatching the barn door lock. It rolled open with a noisy thump. The inside of the barn was warm, with well-worn wood and the scent of fresh hay stinging Underdog's nostrils. He shook his head to clear it and floated in, Polly beside him. He could see nor hear any sign of life.

"I guess they're on break, since the reindeer are sick," Polly stated.

Underdog stayed silent, but he tossed a suspicious glance around the lifeless barn. Polly nudged his elbow to get him back on task, and padded through the barn until she found the perfect, comfy stall for Vixie. Underdog leaned down as the reindeer calf extended her legs, trying to leap out of his grasp before he was ready for it. He stumbled in the air as she landed, his cape kicking up the wood shavings and his heel slipping. Vixie bleated again, pitifully nuzzling into Polly's hand.

"You're a little darling!" Polly cooed, ignoring Underdog as he righted himself.

The reindeer continued to beg for Polly's love, happy to ignore Underdog and even happier to let Polly fawn over her. Beneath Vixie's little whimpers and grumbles, Underdog heard the crunch of approaching footsteps on the wood shavings that coated the floor. His ear twisted in that direction as he straightened up, spinning around to face whatever threat it may be.

However, the steps left as quickly as they came—replaced by the sound of a door squealing open and shut. Underdog turned back to Polly, who hadn't noticed.

"She'll be alright, now, Polly," he said, his voice low as he looked around skeptically. He extended a hand out for her to take. "Let's go see what Mrs. Claus will have us do next."

Polly nodded, giving Vixie one last scratch on the cheek as she took Underdog's hand. "We'll get you better soon," she promised, "And all your friends too!"

As she stepped away from the calf, Polly gave Underdog a massive beam. Underdog passed her a small smile back, but in her excitement, she didn't notice his uncertainty. Underdog led her out of the barn, but kept his ears turned back to listen for more strange noises.