Page 3 of Naughty Elf: Aster

Noel sat down at the table once everything was cooked. “Did you warm the maple syrup?”

Picky little pup, he was. “I did. Eat up. Think about what you want to do once you’re done.”

We ate quickly and decided our morning would include a hike for pine cones. He liked making things for Christmas, both for the tree and the house. This year, he thought a pine cone wreath would be nice for the front door, and I couldn’t have agreed more.

“Hurry up, Dad.” He threw his arms up impatiently. I sat on the back porch, pulling on my boots while he crunched in the freshly fallen snow in his own boots. His cheeks were already pinked from the cold, but he had his basket ready for the hunt.

The hunt for pine cones. One day, he and I would hunt as our wolves for fresh meat but until then, pine cones would have to do. Plus, I knew better than anyone that time spent with your loved ones was precious and we couldn’t waste a second.

David and I never knew our last kiss that morning was the last of our life.

I pushed the constant loneliness into the corner of my consciousness and got up, ready for our adventure. In my backpack were some snacks because little wolf shifter.

“Which trail should we take?” I asked as he started walking without me.

“This way. My nose tells me that the pine cones are this way.” He wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t the cones leading his senses to the north. It was the pine needles hanging from the trees. We would gather some sprigs of those as well to complete the wreath.

“Lead the way.” I waved my hand even though he didn’t turn to see. I missed the days of having an adult to talk to after a long day with my pup, but after David passed, we found this cabin in the woods and took a break from all the sympathetic looks from my friends and shoulder pats from our families.

Plus, living in that house without him felt like having his funeral over and over, with no end.

“I found the first one. Yes!” He put a large pine cone in his basket only minutes after embarking on our hike. Pumping his fist in the air, he did a little dance, shaking his butt. Silly little pup. Just like his other father. Celebrating the small victories in life.

“Find some more. We need about fifty.”

“Fifty?” he asked, turning to give me a look.

“Yes. Fifty if you want to make a wreath.”

“Okay. Only forty-nine more to go.”

I snickered. At least he was learning more than slang and big words at shifter school. David wasn’t the best at math, so he also got that from me. “That’s right.”

We hiked until Noel needed a break and a snack which was not very far into to the trail. I took a long drag of the air into my nose, letting my wolf assess it. Winter was settling in, and soon the snow would stick and there would be less of these hikes and more stories by the fire, which was fine with both of us. Tomorrow, I would take Noel into town and make a supply run, stocking up on groceries and some other things for the holidays.

Christmas was, by far, my favorite holiday, which was why I insisted on naming our pup after the cheerful time.

“Let’s be careful with the glue,” I said, as we made the wreath while the sun set outside. We had some venison stew heating up on the stove and fresh bread in the oven.

“You do it, Dad. I don’t want to burn myself.”

“You got it, bud. I’ll put the glue on, and you tell me where to put each one. Deal?”

He nodded. “Deal.”

We finished the wreath and hung it outside. At the last second, Noel wanted to put some lights on it, and thank goodness I happened to have some battery-operated ones in the Christmas boxes. I always felt guilty when he was disappointed. He’d had enough disappointment in his life.

“Do you ever talk to Papa?” he asked as I tucked him into bed.

“Sometimes. Do you?”

He nodded and cuddled his teddy bear under his arm. “He don’t answer me, but my tummy feels warm when I do. My wolf likes it.”

“He doesn’t answer. And yeah, it makes me warm to think about him. Sometimes I ask him questions.”

“Does he answer?” Noel asked, yawning.

I sat on the side of his bed and put my hand on his cheek. “No. But I like remembering him. Do you remember him?”