Each needle was accounted for, shimmering threads of prickling, all made of ice- shining and magnanimous in the light. He worked tirelessly, piecing together the beacon of Christmas, making it just so. Making it just like he had watched Father do, closing his golden eyes in intervals, seeing in his mind’s eye the memory- recalling the way Father crafted scenes of merriment.
The ornaments kept taking on images of their world as he prepared them. Some were scenes of meadows, rife with lush grass. Others were great willows, with long drapes, adorned with tiny leaves. Foals in the clearings, kicking happily in the sun, rearing back on their hinds- tossing their dainty heads to the sky with laughter. Other equids, great horns against their brows, mighty wings against their backs- some with expressed magic in their veins.
Would he that he could know them all, place each meaningful vision of them upon the tree.
It brought a small smile to his lips, velveteen made of rust and froth. Whipped clouds the color of his blaze, running straight down the length of his poppy nose. A cheerful hum left him, caught behind his mouth, like a dam against a river.
Christmas..Santa...presents...Family...warmth..
“It’s beautiful, magical..”
A woman speaks at his back and his twists his head, looking around at her, though he is caught off guard. It takes a few seconds for his bearings to return, wide eyed and speechless for a breath- maybe more.
“Why thank you,” he beams stepping back to inspect his work, panning out. “It’s a Christmas tree, Abies, right, well- it’s a fir tree.” Caught up in explanations, voice quick and sharp, but he welcomes her anyway, smiling like an old friend. Though they had never met.
“So you like it? I do hope I’ve got it right.” Chest puffing as he takes in a breath, letting the air fill his lungs.
“I’m Scholar, a pleasure,” he blinks, then nods his head in greeting.