"I'm not," the werewolf growled and started to say more.
Santa Claus shook his head and picked up the reins. "We can talk as we go, but we have a great deal yet to do, my furry friend. Trot on!" And he snapped the reins, urging the team up into the sky once more.
They ran between the stars and the earth, and Matthias paused a moment to snap at a bit of stardust that sprinkled from above an
d hauled the sleigh up and around into a huge, swooping loop - just to see if the red-coated man and his load of gifts would fall out. But Saint Nicholas only clung like a limpet to his seat and laughed, "Ho, ho, ho! Excellent, Mattie!"
As they raced ahead of the terminator, the weather became damp and misty, though none of the team or the driver seemed bothered by the cold. The fog, however, was a different matter.
"Oh dear," muttered Sunnercla. "Now I do miss Rudolph - that nose of his lit the way through even the densest fog. I hope we won't get lost in this murk. "
"I have a nose," Matt objected.
"And it's lovely, but it's not exactly casting light in the darkness, dear boy. How will we find the houses of the deserving children if I can't see them?"
"I'll bet I could smell them out," Matthias said.
"Really? Well . . . most of them do leave me cookies but there're a lot of cookies around this time of year. "
"And hope. You said your special children have hope. "
"Yes. And belief. But those don't have a smell. "
"Oh yes they do," the werewolf said, remembering. "Hope smells like despair before it goes sour. Belief smells like candle wax and incense. And I smell that right now. " He also smelled the odors of sleeping children and gingerbread and fir boughs near a wood fire. He was sure that only a house full of Christmas could smell like that - all the others had - but he didn't say so. Rider had his tricks, but so did Matthias and he wasn't going to let on that the Christmas Cheer had made his nose as magical as his flying paws.
"Indeed?" asked Sinterklaas. "Then lead on!"
Putting his nose to the scent, the werewolf snuffled and trotted through the air, following the smell down and around, skirting through ranks of tall buildings, over the tops of trees, and finally to a rooftop where the team paused for Santa Claus to run his errand.
As they waited, the reindeer looked at Matthias out of the corners of their eyes and muttered among themselves. They still didn't like him, but at least they weren't trying to bite him anymore.
When the man in red returned, he walked right up to the deer team and began distributing cookies from his pockets. "There you go, my good friends. You've worked very hard, so it's time for a treat - there's still much yet to do, though, so eat up!" He walked up to Matt and held out a gingerbread man. "That was excellent work, Mattie. I saved the best one for you. "
The werewolf sniffed at the cookie and sneezed. "I'd rather have the children - they're tastier. If you can go in all these houses and do all of this, why do you settle for cookies and milk? You could have anything. If I could do that, I'd definitely eat the brats in their cribs. "
The Bishop of Myrna frowned, saying, "I couldn't do that. I'm the patron saint of children - I could never hurt them. "
"But you let Black Peter punish them. Just like you did me. "
"You were awfully naughty, Mattie. Children need correction once in a while - to learn what is right and what is not. All parents know this. You had no parents and no one to help you know when you'd done wrong. "
"I had foster parents and a schoolful of nuns to correct me. "
"Apparently not enough - considering. And after all I'd done for you . . . Well, water under the bridge now. We'd best be going. "
Saint Nicholas scratched him behind the ears and walked back to the driver's seat with the shadow of Black Peter slinking along behind. For just a moment, the dark man showed his face and winked at Matthias and gave an evil grin.
Annoyed and a little afraid, but feeling a post-Rudolph emptiness, the werewolf gobbled down the gingerbread man in two bites - it certainly wasn't as good as reindeer, but it would do. Then the sleigh was on its way again, with Matthias still sniffing and leading them through the fog.
They'd visited several more fog-bound buildings and were just emerging from the mist above a frozen lake when a mournful sound drifted up to the sleigh from the ice below.
"Whoa, Mattie!" called the man in red. "Find that noise!"
Cocking his ears, the werewolf listened for the thin cry. There it was . . . the chilled voice of someone alone on the ice, freezing and crying. Matthias plunged toward the sound of the weakling, thinking of the times he'd hunted to similar cries of distress, cutting the weak and injured from herds of animals - and men.
The reindeer pulled with all their strength to match the powerful leaps of their leader and they dashed down to the ice-bound lake, circling lower and lower until they touched as lightly as eiderdown onto the cracked surface of the ice. A small figure lay on the ice beside a fissure in the surface. Next to the still body, a wavering form wailed its distress.
Matthias wouldn't have imagined the red-clad saint could move so fast, but Saint Nicholas bailed out of the sleigh when it was barely stopped and ran across the treacherous ice to the child lying beside the hole. He knelt down and scooped up the dead child, cradling its blue face against his red woolen shoulder.