Work Text:
The drafty cottage groans under December's gale, its log walls weeping resin tears onto packed-earth floors. Rudolph presses his muzzle against frost-crusted windowpane glass, watching his crimson reflection pulse like a captured star against the blizzard's howling darkness. Behind him on straw-stuffed mattresses, Hermey meticulously folds dental tools into a patched handkerchief while Yukon Cornelius snores into his furs, silver prospecting pans gleaming dully by his boots.
"Tomorrow," Hermey whispers, needle-thin fingers pausing mid-fold. His voice slices through the wind's moan—soft, urgent, impossibly steady for an elf barely taller than Rudolph's foreleg. "We leave together. Finished discussion."
Rudolph whirls, nostrils flaring. His nose flares brighter, painting the rafters bloody red. Shadows leap like startled ghosts across Yukon's snoozing form. "He'll spot this *thing* miles off!" The words crackle with static terror. "The Abominable'll hear my glow humming through the snow!"
Yukon snorts awake mid-snore. "Nonsense!" He thumps a mittened paw against his chest. "All for all... er, one for..." He trails off, scratching his grizzled jaw before collapsing backward onto the bedding. "Ah, tarnation. Shut-eye, boys. Big trek tomorrow."
Rudolph's ears flatten. "But—"
Hermey snaps his handkerchief shut with finality. "Worrywart." A tiny, calloused hand pats Rudolph's trembling foreleg. "Sleep."
Outside, the storm screams. Inside, three misfits breathe as one beneath a roof that creaks like old bones.