Ronin by Tony Bertauski

Author:Tony Bertauski
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy christmas, teen science fiction and fantasy, best scifi, young adult science fiction and fantasy, science fiction holiday, teen science fiction, scifi action, best scifi books, young adult scifi christmas
Publisher: DeadPixel Publications
Published: 2018-10-31T16:00:00+00:00

16

The reindeer are no longer calves.

It’s the last day of the year. The celebration would continue into the New Year. But this year was different from all the previous year ends. There are snowball fights and dancing and youngsters polar-bearing in the open leads.

Elven gather around the herd.

The antlers clatter as they dip their heads. The handlers feed them a blend that will burn the helium bladders faster and hotter. Off to the side and away from the herd, Gallivanter stands beneath the largest of them all.

The last reindeer.

Ronin’s growth spurt shocked the breeders. It happened over the course of a decade, a relatively short period of time. The top of Gallivanter’s head barely brushes Ronin’s knee as he holds out his hand. Ronin curls his tongue around the green cube and grinds it between his molars.

Gallivanter ignores the younger elven throwing up their grabbers—globes hovering to take photos. Neither of them look happy or sad. Intense, the youngsters call them. His green coat spreads behind him. The rest of the handlers, in a show of celebration, display red colors.

“Gather!” Jocah raises her hand. “Gather one and all!”

A single snow-white braid dangles from her head like a rope. There are only a few elven with more years than Gallivanter, but none more than Jocah.

The colony leader announces the first ever end-of-year reindeer games. The ice shudders beneath stamping feet. The crowd parts. A runway stretches across the ice. The handlers give their reindeer encouragement.

“Dasher?” Jocah asks. “Will you do the honors?”

The buck throws back his head and snorts. The elven throw snowballs like confetti as he separates from the herd. With ample space, he backs up several paces, shaking his head vigorously. A deep breath expands his belly. The helium bladder gurgles as his metabolism picks up.

Dasher gallops as his belly inflates. The strides grow longer and lighter. He throws his front legs out.

And soars.

Extra hide billows at the base of each leg to sail on an updraft. The elven celebration reaches a manic pitch as he lands deep down the runway. The herders dial their binoculars to measure the distance. The reindeer rear back to celebrate with kicking hooves.

The games are under way.

One by one, they stretch their bellies and inflate their bladders before launching themselves farther and farther. Each of them is mauled by excited elven. The herders struggle to record the exact distance. Cupid is winning by a nose.

It’s Vixen’s turn.

She’s the smallest of the herd. Her antlers are slim with fewer points. No matter how much they feed her, she maintains a gazelle-like figure. Light on her feet, she draws her breath deep and long.

“Vix-en. Vix-en. Vix-en,” the elven chant.

The others had launched like zooming balloons. She shoots like a rocket and glides deep into the night.

They stamp into the runway and lose sight of her. The herders shout for them to clear away, but she’s gone far beyond the runway. No one sees her land.

Not even a puff of snow.

A rumble of confusion ripples through the colony.

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