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Donner

There was something unfinished about the night, as if the artist had started to paint the picture but had long ago forgotten it in the corner of a basement, where it now lay gathering dust. The sky in particular seemed to be incomplete; instead of a luminous dark blue dotted with diamonds of stars or radiant sunset of colors and flames, the sky was…vacant. Nothing but a stretch of blank canvas, a long range of flat, gray clouds that reached from horizon to horizon, as if trying to cover the land below in a region of darkness. No stars shed their light through that thick mantle, and only the vaguest hints even suggested that the moon was out. The proverbial dust that now landed on this half-made portrait was snow, only instead of a fine sprinkling it was coming down heavily from the sky. Down below, the snow covered everything except for the footprints behind a small herd of reindeer, and those were filling fast.

If it continues like this, Donner thought to himself, there won’t even be a tomorrow… He shook himself slightly, dislodging ice and snow from his dark coat before looking back at his herd. It was a small herd, but it was all he had. No, it was more than just that; it was all he had ever wanted. It was his responsibility to ensure that there was a tomorrow, not for himself, but for his herd. He snorted harshly and made another push through the icy winds and snow, trying to make a path for the others. The snow came up to his knees, but he was a large reindeer; he would have no trouble. Or at least ‘no trouble’ compared to the struggles that the others were already facing.

On the bright side, trudging through the snow was a mindless task. It left the rest of his brain unused, which meant he had plenty of time to try and come up with a plan to save his herd. This wasn’t exactly bright though; on thinking about it, Donner decided that it was a rather grubby sort of thought, especially when he considered the complete lack of shelter. Snow, snow, everywhere, and not a single tree. In a strange way, it would have been preferable to face lera. Any sort of lera. At least he could do something to fight them. Even the toughest wolf tended to be turned into a few stringy bits of red stains after a few minutes with Donner. But the weather… he couldn’t do anything against that, and that made him angry and afraid for the fate of the herd.

A flash of gray lumbered to his side and he turned to look at his sister, Blitzen; with the icy air, her dark gray coat seemed closer to silver than anything else. There was no mistaking her antlers for any other cow’s, however. Her antlers were the terror of many wolves, and occasionally Donner himself.

“The others are getting tired, Donner,” she muttered softly. Or maybe she hadn’t muttered; the biting gale snatched at her syllables, as if jealous of her voice.

“I know,” Donner rumbled easily. Everyone was getting tired, including himself. Mindless though the task was, it required a lot of muscles. “But, look; there’s no shelter anywhere. We must keep going.”

“Going?!” Blitzen snorted, the breath in front of her nose instantly crystallizing on the freezing air. Stamping her hooves impatiently, she managed to get in front of her brother. The glare of her eyes was enough to stop a charging wolf, and made even Donner freeze like the proverbial deer in headlights. “Going where, Donner? There isn’t anywhere to go! We must turn back! I’m certain that I saw some sort of cave we could hold up in!”

Eyeing her antlers, Donner slowly blinked before shaking his head. “We cannot go back,” he rumbled patiently. “There isn’t anywhere to go back to. The wolves…” he paused here, knowing that right now, the icy cold and lack of food was a more certain killer than wolves.

A lone bellow from behind called Donner’s and Blitzen’s attention behind them once more as the youngest member of the herd struggled through the snow. For Donner, it was only knee deep, but for little Rudolph, it was even deeper.

“We cannot go back,” Donner said simply, voicing what Blitzen now knew. Once again, the buck looked around and shivered. It was not the cold that made him shiver though. It was simply the fear that he could lose his herd. Unable to go forward or go back, they had only one choice. They had to stay here and do their best. “We must stay and keep close for warmth,” he said. Or, rather, yelled. Once again, the wind was stealing away the noises, making everything outside of the biting wind almost silent.

Blitzen opened her mouth to argue, but saw the glint in her brother’s eyes and closed her mouth once more. This was not the time to argue with Donner, she decided. The pair tramped back to the rest of the herd, which was milling around anxiously, unsure of what was happening. Donner sidled up to Rudolph, trying to keep his little brother warm with his own body heat. He stamped at the snow with his hooves, making a tiny flurry of ice, desperately trying to find food. Not for himself, of course, although gnawing hunger bit at his stomach. It was for Rudolph, and if there was more, for the others. The herd always came first. Slowly, the huddle made its way towards shallower snow, hoping that some green shoots would have survived.

“We must stay together!” he said in his voice, which was used to command. Uncertainly, the other deer looked towards the unofficial second-in-command, Blitzen. The cow blinked her dark eyes several times and looked around before nodding.

“We must stay together,” she agreed. Following Donner’s orders, the deer moved together in a huddle, the older and stronger deer on the outside, with the youngest on the inside so they could benefit the most from the body heat. And there was Donner, standing on the outside, waiting for morning to come.

The herd would be safe. He would see to it. Any lera that planned to attack this herd of reindeer would find a bright-eyed young bull ready to fight to the death and beyond.