“'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Forest, not a creature was stirring, not even a squirrel…”
“Hey, that doesn’t rhyme!”, one of the little fawns, Tyssen, interrupted. Tails shushed the little one, “Let him tell the story. Go on, Dag.”, he said. Dag smiled and nodded, “It’s quite alright. It won’t rhyme because I changed the words so it would make more sense. But I hope you enjoy it.”, he said. The storyteller straightened up and continued the poem.
“The Old Oak was cleared and empty for the night, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would arrive; The fawns were nestled all curled by their mothers, while visions of mushrooms danced in their minds; And I sat alone, listening to the sounds, of the Pond trickling and the wind breezing, when out on in the poppies there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the hycanths to see what was the matter. I watched intently with my eyes open wide, to the sky open from the forest heights. The moon which was wide and bright gave the glow of morning to the Forest below, When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer…”
“I bet Toukan was one of them.”, another fawn, Temnota, interrupted. The other fawns giggled. “Hush, everyone!”, Tails snapped at them. Dag cleared his throat and continued.
“With a little old human, so strange and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than ravens his reindeer they came, and he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name; ‘Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet!