Archive of Our Own ^beta

Winter.

This was the moment that Pure Vanilla found himself retreating to the cabin he had just at the edge of the woods.

He didn’t mind the cold. In fact he loved it. It gave him a reason to retreat in the first place, to enjoy some time alone for just the moment.

Usually, Pure Vanilla is the type to spend the Winter Festa as everyone usually does. Festivals, parties, with friends and family. He’s seen it all before, done it all before.

Pure Vanilla steps into the cabin, shaking the coat off his shoulder quickly. He carried a long from outside to put into the fireplace, letting it ignite once again.

Before he had departed for his cabin, he had made sure everyone knew he was leaving. But nobody truly knows where he is. One might have thought it to be odd, to spend the season alone, partially Pure Vanilla would agree.

He makes his way through the cabin into the bathroom, his hands holding onto the edge of the sink. His reflection stared back at him, a sudden hesitation present in his body.

He’s been around long enough to know what happens around Winter Festa. Not only do people come out to celebrate, it is also a time where hybrids also find joy.

…some hybrids…

His gaze lowered, his grip on the sink tightening only a fraction.

All except reindeer hybrids.

Hybrids as a whole weren’t treated different from people. They were loved just the same, they received equal treatment like everyone.

But reindeers… they were looked at differently. Especially during winter.

They were rare. Valuable. Dangerous, people said.

Their magic fetched high prices, stated to be more diverse and powerful then anyone else’s; especially in winter. Their antlers were trophies. Even their fur was rumored to possess properties meant to benefit. It was all so… terrible.

How much Pure Vanilla did wish it was different.

The thought pushed at his mind harder than usual this year, it was the reason he had opted to stay away. While he hadn’t disclosed that reason in certainty, he felt he didn’t need to.

What Pure Vanilla had originally planned was to prepare up a quick meal for himself, nothing too heavy. That of course was until he heard it.

A very faint cry, distant and strained. Almost like a shout, but not quite.

He froze.

If he had been more lost in his thoughts, he might have brushed it off as the wind. The blizzard was loud enough to hide almost anything. But something about it felt wrong enough for Pure Vanilla to want to confirm it with his own eyes.

Pure Vanilla moved to the door before he could question it further.

Cold rushed inside at once, sharp and biting at his loose clothes. Snow and fog filled the air, the world beyond the cabin was barely visible. He scanned the forest with what little he could see hoping quietly that it wasn’t a person.

Then he saw it.

A faint trail of red cutting through the snow near the treeline.

Pure Vanilla’s eyes widened.

He grabbed his coat and pulled it on quickly, stepping outside without hesitation. The cold burned against his skin but he ignored it.

A cry like that, paired with blood; this wasn’t an animal. And it certainly wasn’t his imagination.

He followed the trail into the forest, watching at is continues to get thicker and thicker against the snow.

It didn’t take long to reach the source.

There, half-buried in snow, was a person caught in a bear trap. The metal jaws were clamped tight around his leg, blood soaking through the snow beneath him. He struggled weakly, breath coming out in sharp, uneven gasps.

At first Pure Vanilla was dumbfounded at the trail, it signified that the person must have either limped or stumbled while still being in the bear trap. He winces how painful that would have been to experience.

And a blizzard like this…

It seemed likely he wouldn’t survive much longer if Pure Vanilla decided to leave.

The moment the injured person noticed him, surprise flashed across his face briefly before transitioning into fear. He thrashed harder, teeth clenching, trying to pull free despite the pain.

And Pure Vanilla already knew that attempt was going to do more potential harm than good.

Pure Vanilla stopped and slowly raised his hands.

“I apologize for startling you,” he said, keeping his voice calm. “I promise. I’m here to help.”

He took a careful step closer.

The other person looked at him much more closely now, whatever strength he had left finally started to give out. His body went slack, eyes fluttering shut as he collapsed into the snow.

Pure Vanilla’s breath caught. His fingers immediately flew to check his pulse, his mind spinning with different outcomes.

Fear. Blood loss. Shock. Whatever it might be.

It didn’t matter which.

This was bad.

He didn’t waste another second. Carefully, he pried open the trap slowly as best he could, then lifted the unconscious stranger into his arms.

The wind howled around them as Pure Vanilla turned back toward the cabin, holding the injured body close.

Not exactly how he thought he would be starting the week of his holidays. 

As he quickly made his way back to the cabin, he took the moment to inspect the being in his arms. He only gained more surprise when he finally focused more on his appearance.

The person had clothing that wasn’t at all prepared for winter, especially a blizzard like the one they were in. 

Tattered black clothing, not even long sleeves. Pure Vanilla had not a clue how long they might have been outside for, but hypothermia was also on the list of things that could go wrong here.

He quickly reached his cabin, quickly him down on the couch before fully being able to assess the wound on his leg. Without the bear trap, he was able to get a much better look of what he had to work with.

The cabin was already warm so he wasn’t as worried in that regard, nonetheless, he draped a blanket over him for good measure. Mainly to calm his own racing mind already heavy with anxiety.

Now the main focus.

First, the leg. The bear trap had done brutal work; deep gashes ringed the lower half where the jagged teeth had bitten in, muscle torn and bone likely bruised, but it showed no signs of being cracked which was a plus. However, what surprised Pure Vanilla was how the blood flow had stopped. With an injury like this, there should still be some oozing. 

But the wound seemed… better? Compared to when he had first glanced at it outside, it appeared to have closed up on its own.

Which was incredibly strange. A wound like this would at least require more stitches then what he would now need.

“Alright.” He muttered under his breath, he wasn’t complaining at the turn of events, this would mean there would be less to do.

The next confused was how he showed no signs of hypothermia. After being in the blizzard for an undetermined amount of time, Pure Vanilla estimated he had to have been outside long enough to at least show mild symptoms. And yet checking him over, you wouldn’t even have known he was outside at all except for how cold he feels to the touch.

Alright then.

He fetched his healing kit from the shelf: a clean cloth, salves infused with his own magic, and bandages woven from enchanted threads that promoted clotting. Years of practice made his hands sure as he worked. 

First, he cleaned the wound with warm water from the kettle he’d left simmering by the fire, wincing at the stranger’s unconscious flinch when the cloth touched raw flesh. Then the salve, glowing faintly gold as Pure Vanilla channeled a gentle pulse of magic into it; enough to staunch the bleeding and ease infection if any present.

Wrapping the bandages was the easy part, but then his gaze drifted up curiously. The stranger’s face was sharp, high cheekbones, a sly curve to the mouth. lashes against pale skin bluer skin. 

In the back of his mind, Pure Vanilla wondered where he could have come from.

The stranger stirred then, a low groan escaping his lips. His eyes fluttered open—mismatched surprisingly, one a deep blue, the other glowing brighter like the pale sky at the moment. Confusion clouded them at first, then sharpened into wariness as they focused on Pure Vanilla.

“Where…?” His voice was rough, strained from cold and pain. He tried to sit up, gasped, and fell back, clutching at the couch under him.

“Easy,” Pure Vanilla said softly, raising his hands in the same placating gesture as before. “You’re safe. I found you in the woods caught in a trap and I brought you back to my cabin.” Pure Vanilla stood up from where he was crouched beside the couch. “The wound is tended, but you’ll need rest.”

He looked up from the couch, looking at Pure Vanilla with narrowed eyes. He clearly showed weariness, suspicious in his eyes as his looked at his bandaged up leg. “You helped me?” He questioned, sitting up properly to inspect his leg. “Why?”

Pure Vanilla tilted his head, he offered a confused smile on his face. “Because it was the right thing to do. You wouldn’t have survived in the blizzard out there.” Pure Vanilla glanced out the window, the snow only seeming to get stronger from when they were outside.

The stranger glanced up at him, their eyes seeming to think strongly about something, calculate something. “…And, what are you seeking in return?”

That made Pure Vanilla pause.

What an odd question.

“Must there always be something needed in return to do something for someone?” He gestured down at his leg, noting his injury. “Especially in your case?”

In response, the stranger nodded with no hesitation. “Isn’t that the point?”

Pure Vanilla sighed faintly, shaking his head. “I don’t need anything in return.” He bent to pack up all the supplies he used and the ones he didn’t need. He had surprisingly overestimated how much the injury truly needed. 

“My name is Pure Vanilla, what’s yours?”

He got no response at first, only a weary glance for just a moment.

“Shadow Milk.” He received it faintly.

“Alright, Shadow Milk.” He smiled, standing up to make his way to the bathroom where he got all the supplies. “Go ahead and make yourself at home, the snow seems pretty bad right now, so you’re welcome to stay.”

With that left him on the couch.

——

Shadow Milk watched the healer—Pure Vanilla—disappear down the short hallway, the soft click of the bathroom door the only sound breaking the crackle of the fire. Only then did he let out a slow he had been holding. The air trembling slightly as it left his lungs.

He was still alive. That was the first surprise. He had been sprinting through the forest when stepped into the trap. It was already a nasty fall he didn’t expect to completely recover from.

The second was how little his leg hurt.

Carefully, he swung his feet to the floor, testing his weight. The bandaged calf throbbed dully, but the sharp agony from the trap was gone; replaced by a warmth that spread through the muscle like sunlight on snow. Whatever Pure Vanilla had used, it worked fast. Fast enough for even him to be impressed. Shadow Milk’s kind healed quickly, and even quicker in winter when the magic ran strongest beneath their skin, but this felt… enhanced.

He stood fully, balancing on the injured leg. It held to his satisfaction. Good enough to walk. Maybe even good enough to bolt if he had to.

But he didn’t bolt. Not yet.

Instead, he turned in a slow circle, taking in the cabin with the wary curiosity of a wild thing suddenly caged in comfort.

The space was small—smaller than the open forests and ruined shelters he was used to—but it wasn’t unpleasant. The walls were lined with dark wood that were coated in the firelight, shelves cluttered with jars of dried herbs, books with cracked spines, a few simple carvings that looked handmade. A thick rug covered most of the floorboards, soft under his bare feet. Everything smelled warm. Safe. But he didn’t let it put his guard down.

And… the place smelled strong of vanilla, sweet, rich, and almost dizzying. He hadn’t known humans carried scents at all, let alone like this; strong enough to linger in the air long after they’d left a room. Perhaps he had never been close enough to one to find out. He had always avoided them always.

His ears remained hidden under his hair, they twitched instinctively beneath the fall of his dark hair, straining for any sound of pursuit outside. Nothing but the wind and the relentless hush of falling snow.

So this human lived alone…

He drifted toward the nearest shelf, drawn by the glint of glass jars. One held pale golden petals suspended in honey. Another, tiny blue berries that looked like frozen stars. His fingers hovered, not quite touching. Everything here spoke of care. Of someone who tended things gently, who coaxed life instead of taking it.

It made the hairs along his neck rise.

No one helped without wanting something. Especially not a lone wanderer caught in a poacher’s trap, bleeding out in the snow. And especially not during winter, when reindeer were worth more dead than alive.

Shadow Milk’s gaze flicked to the doorway Pure Vanilla had vanished through. The healer had looked at him too calmly. Too kindly. Hadn’t asked why he’d been in the woods, or why he was dressed for anything but a blizzard. Hadn’t flinched at the blood or the state of him.

He knows, Shadow Milk thought, heart beating a little faster. He must know what I am.

But then why the bandages? Why the broth simmering on the stove? Why the offer to stay? All the questions range through his mind and still he couldn’t think of a possible answer to them.

He reached out and brushed a fingertip along the spine of a book, something about healing herbs, then pulled back quickly when he heard footsteps returning. Pure Vanilla stepped into the room, pausing in the doorway when he saw Shadow Milk standing, quietly examining the shelves.

“You’re up already,” Pure Vanilla said, voice mild with surprise but no accusation. He tilted his head, a small, curious smile tugging at his lips. “Does your leg not hurt much?”

Shadow Milk froze for half a heartbeat, then forced his shoulders to relax, his posture to shift into something more human—less alert, less ready to spring. He couldn’t stand here gawking like a fawn seeing snow for the first time. He couldn’t let wonder show on his face.

He had to act like a human.

“Yeah,” he answered, voice rough but steady. He gestured vaguely at his leg. “Whatever you put on it… it works really well.”

Pure Vanilla’s smile warmed, soft and unguarded. “I’m glad. Though you should still take it easy. Wounds like that can surprise you if you push too soon.”

Shadow Milk nodded, shoving his hands into the pockets of his torn pants to hide the faint tremor in them. He glanced around once more, then back at Pure Vanilla; those gentle golden eyes watching him with nothing but quiet concern.

He didn’t know what game this was.

But for now, he’d play along.

With his leg still healing, he wouldn’t be able to go as far and quickly as he’d like. He can’t risk running into trouble and not being up to full capability.

Flying is out of the picture, he needs to be able to push up and against the air with his legs while doing so.

In other words, he was forced to stay put. With a human. The one thing he despises.

“Sorry, I’m a bit nosey I suppose.” Shadow Milk finally responded, his eyes scanning the many trinkets Pure Vanilla left lying around. It was a surprising sight to see, usually people would not want to leave anything just out in the open. At least not his kind. “You have a lot of interesting things on display. Shiny too.”

Pure Vanilla seemed unphased, walking past him to get to the kitchen. “Well feel free to look, many of them are quite old.” He turned his back to him, searching for items in the cupboards. “Nothing more than trinkets and decor, if that’s what you’re wondering.” He stood up, moving deeper into the kitchen while Shadow Milk continued to look around trying not to touch anything.

“Still interesting to the eye.” Shadow Milk muttered, occasionally glancing at Pure Vanilla through the corner of his eye. All the movement instinctively made him nervous, though it seemed that Pure Vanilla didn’t have a clue on what Shadow Milk was. Yet.

That formed a thought in his mind.

What if he does know?

Was he obvious? Did he accidentally catch a glimpse while Shadow Milk was unconscious?

How would he react?

None that he could answer in confidence.

His eyes dropped to look down at himself, nothing that he could pinpoint made him look strange other than his attire that was most definitely not suited for winter weather for human standards. Nervously, his hands ran through his hair slowly, fingers feeling for anything that might call out his lie.

Shadow Milk turned to look at Pure Vanilla once more for clarity, his eyes focusing when he realized his back was turned to him. He started from the top, his hands rising to his head before falling back and down his hair; his fingers met no resistance. No antlers, check. Next let his hands run down his backside, stopping at his tailbone and his fingers meeting nothing. No tail, check.

He looked down, raising his legs to see if his magic had failed to conceal his hooves, disguising his whole structure to look more human. No hooves, check.

Ugh.

His magic had to work overtime to keep the concealment going, he had plenty to spare and it wouldn’t be the first time he had prolonged magic use on himself, but the thought of having to conceal himself into something as… lowly… as a human. It brought a scowl to his face.

“Shadow Milk,” His thoughts were  interrupted by Pure Vanilla calling his name. “I don’t know the last time you ate but,” He paused, his back still to Shadow Milk before he finally turned his head. “You’re welcome to eat if you’d like.” Pure Vanilla smiled at him, it was evident it was a genuine smile.

Okay, now Shadow Milk is confused.

Shadow Milk’s scowl lingered for only a heartbeat before he forced it away, smoothing his expression into something carefully neutral. Genuine smiles were not something he was used to receiving as much anymore, especially not from humans. Most looks thrown his way were wary, greedy, or outright hostile.

Yet, this one felt disarming. At least for him that is.

He walks over to the sturdy wooden table, leaning his hip against the edge as thought in a casual manner and not to take his weight off his leg.

"Food, hm?" He let his voice carry an edge of mockery, as if testing the intent of Pure Vanilla in front of him. "No price? You're offering it for free?"

Pure Vanilla turned to fully look at him, a steaming pot in his hands that Shadow Milk would never admit smelt delicious from where he stood. He cursed under his breath at the fact he actually started to feel hungry, he knew it contained spices and vegetables within it. This really had him wondering if Pure Vanilla knew of his origins, his kind loved that stuff.

"Price... Ah well, I have questions," Pure Vanilla admitted briefly, his tone light and honest. He cleaned up the counter with a rag, the bowl being held in the other. Shadow Milk's eyes followed it. "Plenty of them. But they can wait for now until you eat. Starving guests don't make for good conversation, don't you think?"

Guest. The word landed strangely. Shadow Milk wasn’t a guest anywhere anymore—not ever. He could really only be a trespasser, a stray, something to be chased off or captured. Yet here he was, standing in the middle of a human’s home, being called a guest with that same soft smile.

He pushed off the table to take a few steps to the side, making sure he could see the exit at all time. The leg held. The bandages tugged a little, but the pain was distant now, muffled beneath whatever magic the healer had worked into the salve. It still unnerved him how quickly it was mending. Perhaps it was working well with his natural healing capabilities.

“I’m not used to… this,” Shadow Milk said at last, gesturing vaguely at the cabin; at the fire, the food, the quiet lack of threat. His eyes flicked to Pure Vanilla’s face, searching for the catch–for anything. “People don’t just take in strangers.”

Pure Vanilla’s expression softened further, something almost sad flickering behind the gold of his eyes before it vanished. “Maybe they should,” he murmured, ladling thick stew into a simple clay bowl. He set it on the small table near the fire, along with a chunk of dark bread still warm from the oven stone. “Sit. Eat. The storm won’t let up for hours yet, you can go then.”

Shadow Milk hesitated, every instinct screaming that this was a trap wrapped in kindness. But the smell of the stew was rich and real, and the cold still lingered in his bones despite the roaring hearth. And his leg—his escape route—wasn’t ready for the kind of sprint he’d need if things turned ugly.

So he moved.

Slowly, deliberately, he lowered himself into the chair opposite the bowl, never turning his back fully to Pure Vanilla. At first he almost made the mistake of eating with his bare hands instead of the utensil he was provided, an old habit.

Well… It didn’t smell like any poisons he knew. It didn’t look odd either. He mentally ridiculed himself for not watching Pure Vanilla actually make it to be sure. This was a risk he had to take for now. The truth was he wasn’t concerned too much about food, reindeer hybrids can survive a long while before having to eat anything anyway.

If it was poisoned, at most he’d get sick and instantly know. Then he can finally kick Pure Vanilla in the face and sprint on out of there.

If it wasn’t…

He picked up the spoon like it might bite him, then took a cautious bite.

Flavor burst across his tongue, carrots, tender meat, herbs he didn’t have names for. Warmth spread through his chest like sunlight after weeks of only going off what the forest provided.

It was good. Way too good. 

He ate in silence for a few moments, watching Pure Vanilla from beneath his lashes as the healer busied himself pouring a second bowl—for himself, apparently, before settling into the chair across the table.

The quiet stretched, broken only by the crackle of logs and the wind rattling the shutters.

Finally, Shadow Milk set the spoon down, half the bowl already empty.

“You’re either the kindest human I’ve ever met,” he said, voice low, “or the most patient hunter.”

Pure Vanilla paused mid-bite, then lowered his own spoon. He didn’t laugh or bristle—just met Shadow Milk’s gaze steadily.

“‘Kindest human you’ve ever met’?” Pure Vanilla tilted his head, a confused smile on his face. “You make it sound like you are otherworldly.”

Shadow Milk’s fingers tightened around the spoon handle.

Ah. He slipped up.

Very bad.

“Oh! Well,” Shadow Milk stuttered, trying to play off his slip-up as just nervous wording on his part. “You know I’ve… met a lot of different types of people in my life. Have to be inclusive! You know?” Shadow Milk grinned, his shoulder hunched with his hands folded in front of him.

Pure Vanilla chuckled, leaning forward with his elbow on the table. “Of course, of course. With hybrids being more common, I suppose it’s a good thought to think about.” Pure Vanilla muttered, likely having no underlying message to his statement.

The mention of the word ‘hybrid’ made Shadow Milk tense up even further, his nerves firing at him to finally leave already.

So he would.

Kind of.

“Mind if I use your bathroom?” he asked, keeping his voice flat and mimicking almost boredom. Anything to hide how he truly felt.

Pure Vanilla leaned back, he already held his bowl in his hand ready to put it away. All while having that same gentle smile in place. “Of course. Down the hall, first door on the left.”

Shadow Milk nodded once and rose, testing his leg again as he walked. It held his weight easily as if he was never injured. He didn’t look back as he slipped into the narrow hallway, the firelight fading behind him.

The bathroom door was heavier than it looked. He fumbled with the lock twice before the mechanism clicked into place. Only then did he let his shoulders sag.

He turned to the mirror.

For a long moment he simply stared at his reflection, the more human face he had that looked almost uncanny on him. Admittedly he would say he looked well for a human, but in reindeer standards he looked basic. His hair fell messily over wary eyes, the skin that made him feel hairless.Then, with a slow exhale, he let the illusion unravel.

It felt like shedding a heavy weight on him.

His legs shifted first, bones lengthening and re-knitting with faint pops until they ended in sleek dark blue hooves that gleamed against the tiled floor. Light blue fur rippled up from his ankles, thick and soft as much as they were winter-dense. Claws curved from his fingertips, sharp and familiar to him, Then, a short fluffy tail unfurred itself from the base of his spine, twitching once in relief. Finally, the weight he missed most settled onto his brow—magnificent antlers sweeping back in proud, branching arcs, velvet already peeling from the new growth of the season.

He closed his eyes and breathed.

This was his element.

The relief was immediate, so much so it felt almost dizzying. This was him. Not the cramped clawless thing he’d been pretending to be out there.

His stolen clothes pulled tight across broader shoulders, the fabric straining at seams never meant for his true frame. He hated clothes—always had. They itched and felt confining, it dulled in every sense. But out in the human world, being ‘naked’ wasn’t exactly the norm, especially when one didn’t have fur to cover them up mostly.

Reindeer hybrids had never been the neat upright kind humans preferred in their stories. They were ‘too wild’, ‘too cloven-hoofed’, ‘too animal-like’’. More beast than person which is what the world liked to say the most. That way it was easier to justify cages and trophies in the long run.

Shadow Milk turned slowly in the small space, admiring the mirror’s honest reflection. His gaze dropped to the bandaged leg. Even in true form, the wrapping still held. The wound beneath was likely already done healing enough for him to run now.

Any other reindeer would have torn free at the first chance, vanished into the storm without looking back. Shadow Milk could have. Should have.

So why hadn’t he?

He scowled at his own reflection.

Faith? In a human? Ridiculous.

No. He was just… practical. Free food, shelter from the blizzard, time to let the leg finish healing. That was all.

His eyes drifted to the shower stall. Glass door and polished metal fixtures. Warm water on demand whenever, human indulgence at its finest.

He’d always loved the cold, thrived in it actually. But knowing that every once in a while a long, steaming shower was only a few paces away, felt like decadence itself to him. 

Later, he told himself. If he was still here.

With a quiet huff, he drew the illusion back over himself like a hated cloak. Hooves disappearing, fur vanishing, antlers dissolved into nothing, claws blunted to blunt human nails. The clothes hung looser again, less constricting but still wrong on him.

He flushed the toilet for appearances, the rush of water loud in the small room, then unlocked the door and stepped back into the hall.

Pure Vanilla was still at the table when Shadow Milk returned, the bowls nowhere to be seen. He probably already put them away.

A shame assumed Shadow Milk was done, he wanted to finish what he had left. The delicious taste still lingered in his mouth, his friends would have loved to try it.

Shadow Milk paused in the doorway, watching him for a long moment.

The human glanced up, that gentle smile returning. “Everything all right?”

Shadow Milk’s jaw tightened.

“Yeah,” he said at last, voice rough. “Just fine.”

Shadow Milk glanced out the window, snow was still aggressively pelting down. Truthfully it would be no hassle for Shadow Milk, he loved the snow, A blizzard wasn’t going to inconvenience or harm him at all. The thing was it would look incredibly suspicious as a human to just walk off into a really stormy blizzard and into the open forest. At that point, Pure Vanilla would probably start asking him questions.

Wait, questions. Pure Vanilla had talked about that before.

“You… you said you had questions for me right?” Shadow Milk focused on Pure Vanilla again, he had begun cleaning the table while Shadow Milk was lost in thought. “You wanted to ask them. Ask away.” Shadow Milk sat back down in the chair he was sitting in before, his leg bouncing under the table.

It was all in all a huge risk.

Of course, Shadow Milk could always lie.

“Oh, yes! I did say that, didn't I?” Pure Vanilla put away the rag he was using, beginning to rinse out the bowls they had eaten from just a moment prior. Shadow Milk waited for him to continue only for the silence to continue to stretch on.

Shadow Milk cleared his throat, his eyes locked onto every movement Pure Vanilla did. “...Are you going to ask me anything?”

“If I am being honest, I wasn’t going to in the first place.” Pure Vanilla hummed, as if this was casual conversation between friends. “I never really wanted to pry.”

Shadow Milk could only stare at him dumbfounded. He had wanted to use the opportunity as a sort of trade for him to ask his own questions.

He slumped in his chair.

In his mine he had already prepared what he was going to say. Deflections, half-truths, outright lies, anything that could be used against him. He had already mapped out possible questions that Pure Vanilla would have asked: ‘Was someone chasing you? Where were you going? Do you have anyone to meet up with?’

All questions he had already prepared answers too. But now he ‘isn’t going to pry.’ What a mess.

He folded his arms across his chest, a pout across his face. What a waste of perfect lies that would have worked. Now with nowhere else to go. “You really aren’t going to ask. How boring.”

Pure Vanilla faced him fully, drying his hands with a paper towel. “Not unless you were to tell me.”

“Most people are nosy.”

“I’m not most people it seems.” Pure Vanilla pointed at him, a certain gleam in his eyes sparking. “And you, are not most guests.” He stated calmly, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room. Shadow Milk perked up, his eyes widening as he slowly stood to follow a little behind him wary.

Shadow Milk walked slowly, examining where Pure Vanilla was going and doing. “Care to elaborate?” Shadow Milk muttered under his breath.

Pure Vanilla stopped briefly to toss a small stick into the fire, igniting it brighter as the flames swallowed it. “You are one interesting mystery. Caught in a poachers trap that should have left most people bedridden for at least a little while, but you seem to act just fine.”

Oh. Right.

Shadow Milk forgot humans heal terribly slowly. And here he was, standing and walking just fine as if the injury never occurred. Someone might not even realize what happened at all if the bandage still hadn’t been around his leg.

“Maybe I just have genetic prowess that most don’t.”

Pure Vanilla chuckled, opening a side door Shadow Milk hadn’t even noticed. For a moment Shadow Milk’s heart rate spiked, was he about to pull out a weapon, or maybe–

“I think it’s time I start setting up my tree.”

…

What?

Shadow Milk blinked. “…Tree?”

Pure Vanilla glanced back, head tilted in gentle confusion. “It is Winter Festa, after all. I usually wait until the eve to decorate. Tradition, you know. But I figured I’d do it early this year.” He gestured toward the bare evergreen standing in the corner of the living room, one Shadow Milk had assumed was just… there. A strange human habit of keeping half-dead trees indoors.

Oh.

Now that he’s thinking about this, this would answer a lot of things.

All the lights in the villages, the music, the bustle he’d avoided for years by migrating. it was for this. A tree. Decorations. A whole… ritual around it?

Shadow Milk’s mind scrambled for footing. He couldn’t admit he’d never celebrated, never even seen a proper Festa tree up close. So he did what he always did: improvised.

“Right. Of course,” he said, voice carefully neutral. “My… uh, family’s tree always looked kind of bland growing up. Barely any ornaments. I could… help. If you want.”

The words left his mouth before he could snatch them back.

Why did he say that?

Pure Vanilla’s face lit up like the fire behind him, his eyes crinkling, smile wide and genuine. “I would be ecstatic to have your help.”

Shadow Milk regretted it instantly. And then, somehow, didn’t.

They hauled the boxes into the living room together. Pure Vanilla hummed an old Festa carol under his breath as he unpacked delicate glass orbs, strands of silver tinsel, wooden figures carved into bells and stars and tiny reindeer. (Shadow Milk stared at those a little too long before looking away.)

The first ornament Shadow Milk picked up—a fragile blue sphere painted with swirling snowflakes—slipped from his fingers twice before he figured out the tiny metal hook. Pure Vanilla didn’t laugh, he only stepped close and guided his hands with infinite patience, showing him how to loop the hook over a sturdy branch.

“Like this,” he murmured, fingers brushing Shadow Milk’s as he adjusted the placement. “There. Perfect.”

Shadow Milk muttered something noncommittal, but warmth curled in his chest anyway no matter how much he tried to shoo it down.

They worked in a companionable quiet for a while. Pure Vanilla handed him ornaments one by one, explaining little stories behind some of them; an old glass bird from his childhood, a set of carved cookies a friend had made years ago. Shadow Milk listened more than he spoke, nodding at the right moments, asking careful questions to keep up the pretense.

Of course he couldn’t say much about himself in return. He only had stories from when he was considered a fawn. They would have been really interesting to tell to a fellow reindeer, but probably not to a human.

He found he liked the ritual of whatever this was. The way the tree slowly transformed from bare green to something glittering and alive. The soft clink of glass, the rustle of tinsel, the scent of pine growing stronger with every ornament. It felt deliberate. Purposeful in a gentle way he wasn’t used to. Maybe because Shadow Milk was learning something new finally, in a way it was as if they were sharing cultures. As one-sided as it was.

When they reached the lights, things went sideways.

Pure Vanilla handed him a long coil of tiny golden bulbs. “We’ll wind them from the bottom up. Here, I’ll start—”

Shadow Milk, determined to prove he could manage something on his own, took the strand and began wrapping it around the lower branches. The cord tangled almost immediately. He tugged. It tangled more. Another tug, and suddenly the entire string looped around his torso, then his arms, then somehow over one shoulder like a glittering snare.

He froze, draped in lights like some absurd festive mummy.

Pure Vanilla paused, lips twitching. Then a soft chuckle escaped, kind and not mocking. It grew into a quiet laugh, warm and unguarded.

Shadow Milk felt heat rush to his face as he turned his face away. Had true ears been visible they would have flicked as they always did when he was embarrassed. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” Pure Vanilla said, eyes shining with mirth as he stepped closer. Carefully, he began unwinding the cord, fingers gentle where they brushed Shadow Milk’s arms and sides. “Hold still. Almost… there.”

Their faces ended up inches apart. Pure Vanilla’s breath smelled faintly of the spiced tea he’d sipped earlier. Shadow Milk’s heart did something complicated.

He almost smiled.

Almost. Really close.

The moment the lights were free, he stepped back quickly, clearing his throat and turning to the tree like nothing had happened.

Pure Vanilla didn’t comment. Just handed him the next strand with a lingering smile.

Finally, the tree stood draped in color and light, beautiful in its own quiet way. Pure Vanilla stepped back, surveying their work with quiet satisfaction. Shadow Milk also smirked at how it turned out.

“Oh! One last thing,” he said, reaching into the final box. He lifted out a delicate golden star, faceted glass catching the firelight in tiny rainbows. He held it out slowly to Shadow Milk. In return, Shadow Milk raised an eyebrow.

“For the top. Would you like to do the honors?”

Shadow Milk took it, turning the star over in his hands. It looked… wrong, somehow. Too bright and pointed to just stick randomly on a branch. He glanced at the tree, then back at the star, confusion flickering before he masked it.

“Obviously,” he said, voice dry. “Where else would it go.”

Pure Vanilla’s smile softened, like he saw right through the bluff. “The very top,” he supplied again gently. “Tradition says the one who places the star makes a silent wish for the new year.”

Shadow Milk nodded like he’d known that all along. Right.

He stepped forward, reached up—and came up several inches short. The top branch mocked him from above.

He scoffed under his breath. If he could just shift a little magic, float an inch or two… but no. Not in front of Pure Vanilla.

He stretched higher, standing on the balls of his feet, arm straining.

A soft chuckle behind him. Then warm hands settled lightly on his waist.

“Allow me.”

Shadow Milk had half a second to yelp, it was sharp and undignified. He barely registered the touch before Pure Vanilla lifted him effortlessly, as if he weighed nothing at all.

Now that surprised him. He’s not supposed to be that easy to lift. Pure Vanilla showed no struggle at all carrying him so high too.

Shadow Milk didn’t know how to feel about that. But he knew he certainly didn’t hate it.

The world tilted. Suddenly he was eye-level with the treetop, the star steady in his hand, Pure Vanilla’s grip firm and warm through the thin fabric of his stolen shirt. Heat flooded his face, dark and mortifying.

Thank the stars his tail was not visible.

He cleared his throat roughly, reaching up to set the star in place. It settled perfectly, catching the light and scattering it across the room like tiny falling suns. It had been easier than he imagined.

Pure Vanilla lowered him slowly, hands lingering a moment longer than strictly necessary before letting go.

“There,” Pure Vanilla said quietly, stepping back to admire the finished tree. “Beautiful.”

Shadow Milk stood rooted, pulse racing, staring at the glowing star.

He didn’t look at Pure Vanilla. Couldn’t.

Because for one dangerous, flickering second, he’d felt safe. And that was far more terrifying than any poacher’s trap.

And his face was likely still harboring a flush. He could not expose how embarrassing that looked.

From the corner of his eyes he saw Pure Vanilla packing up all the empty boxes that used to house all the decorations now present on the tree. Time had past so much so quickly that he hadn’t realized he stayed way past the blizzard, which had calmed down significantly.

Pure Vanilla seemed to notice it too.

They both slowly turned to each other, both making eye contact and waiting for the other to make the first move.

“Ah,” Pure Vanilla muttered, standing fully again to turn to him. “I imagine you likely have people waiting for you for the Winter Festa, yes?” Pure Vanilla looked down, it was obvious he was trying to conceal his sadness for the inevitable possibly for them to part ways. Afterall, the blizzard had died down, the very reason Shadow Milk had stayed in the first place.

For what it was worth, surprisingly, Shadow Milk felt a pang of sadness in his chest also.

Wait.

What? Sadness? For a human?

Shadow Milk should feel glad, jumping for joy even. He finally had an excuse to leave, to finally put this all behind him. His leg was all better which meant he could run, fly even. He should be happy about this.

But he’s not.

Why is he not happy about this?

Shadow Milk looked out the window, and then to the tree. How for once he didn’t get treated like an anomaly, how surprisingly gentle it seemed to spend time inside, to partake in activities he never knew existed.

Such a human experience.

How can a reindeer feel happiness that involves spending time with a human?

So they stood there, facing each other silently. Two different worlds colliding just as fast as they needed to depart.

And Shadow Milk didn’t want to.

“I suppose I do.” Shadow Milk muttered. His eyes downcast, the tree shined on behind him, his hands balling into fists from his emotions.

He didn’t want to.

Shadow Milk turned towards the door slowly, his steps light against the floor. His walk was slower than usual, hesitant. He didn’t look back at Pure Vanilla even as he felt an overwhelming urge to look him in the eyes again. He still couldn’t pinpoint when he had started to care.

But he could leave, Pure Vanilla hadn’t stopped him once. Hadn’t even hinted at him wanting to stay, likely to not be influenced or pressured. And Shadow Milk was close to opening the door to his freedom.

He didn’t want to.

Outside led to freedom, nothing to worry about, space. Shadow Milk didn’t desire space.

He desired…

His gaze turned back to Pure Vanilla finally, his hand falling from the doorknob.

Shadow Milk pretended not to notice the subtle gleam in Pure Vanilla’s eyes. How his back straightened or how all the sadness that was seen on his face faintly had dissipated instantly. The emotion was replaced by careful hopefulness, mirrored in Shadow Milk.

But he also pretended that’s not what happened to himself either.

“Actually…” The word came out rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat, shoved his hands into the pockets of his torn pants and forced himself to hold Pure Vanilla’s gaze. “I don’t have anyone waiting.”

The admission felt strange on his tongue—too honest, too vulnerable. But he pressed on.

“No family. No… friends.” A faint, bitter huff escaped him. “No one to spend the Festa with.”

It was a lie. Shadow Milk had people waiting for him far out through the routes of the trees and probably into the clouds as well. His migration route he had been following before he had been injured.

But.

He glanced toward the tree again, its lights twinkling like captured stars, then back to Pure Vanilla.

“It’d be…” He searched for a word that didn’t sound weak. Nice didn’t cover it. Pleasant felt too small. “It’d be… good company,” he finished at last, voice low. “If you don’t mind me staying a little longer.”

The silence that followed stretched just long enough for doubt to creep in, cold and familiar as it was. Then Pure Vanilla’s face softened into a smile so warm it seemed to chase every shadow from the room.

“I was hoping you might say that,” he said quietly. “I’d like nothing more than to share the Festa with you, Shadow Milk.”

After that, the days blurred into one another like snowflakes melting on a surface. Shadow Milk found himself enjoying it more than he would’ve thought.

Shadow Milk woke each morning to the scent of pine and vanilla, the crackle of the fire already going, the quiet clink of Pure Vanilla preparing breakfast in the kitchen. He would lie there for a few stolen minutes in the healer’s bed, far too warm and soft than what he was used too and yet he couldn’t help himself burrowing deeper into blankets that smelled like herbs. The first night, he’d insisted on the couch, claiming it looked comfortable enough. One accidental brush against Pure Vanilla’s mattress had ruined that plan entirely. He’d claimed the bed without a word, sprawling across it like a triumphant stag claiming new territory.

Pure Vanilla had only smiled, shaken his head, and taken the couch without complaint.

Shadow Milk told himself it was practical. The couch was closer to the door, better for a quick escape if needed. But deep down, he knew the truth: he wanted the bed because it was Pure Vanilla’s. Because it carried his scent, his warmth, the faint trace of light magic that lingered in the threads almost invisible.

He never admitted how much he liked waking up surrounded by it.

During the days, they fell into an easy rhythm and Pure Vanilla taught him the quiet rituals of the Festa he’d never known existed.

They baked spiced cookies shaped like stars and bells, Pure Vanilla guiding Shadow Milk’s hands through the dough when he pressed too hard and cracked it. Flour dusting both their faces; Pure Vanilla laughed when Shadow Milk sneezed a cloud of it into the air. They strung dried orange slices and cinnamon sticks into garlands that filled the cabin with sweet, sharp fragrance. Pure Vanilla told stories of past Festas; friends gathering, lights in the village square, songs sung until voices grew hoarse. Shadow Milk listened, wide-eyed and silent, soaking in every detail like parched earth drinking snowmelt.

Deep down, he developed a new sense of longing. He wanted to visit such a festival. He had already heard stories of it from other passing reindeers who were bold enough to wander more closely, but he was never too concerned about them.

But the concept sounded so interesting.

Whenever the constant strain of his illusion grew too heavy, he’d mutter an excuse; bathroom, headache, needing air, whatever he needed to say to slip away. In the small, steamy room he’d let the magic fall. Antlers unfurled, hooves clicked softly on tile, fur rippled across his skin like water. He’d stand there breathing deeply, tail flicking, rolling his shoulders to feel the familiar weight settle back into place. Relief always came sharp and sweet.

Then he’d stare at his reflection, a form some would scream at or call beastly, and he’d wonder.

Would Pure Vanilla flinch? Would those gentle golden eyes widen in fear? In greed? In disgust?

He couldn’t bear to find out. Not yet. Not when everything felt so fragile and perfect. He might even never let him know.

So he’d pull the illusion back on like ill-fitting armor and return to the living room, where Pure Vanilla would look up with that same soft smile as if he’d never been gone.

Evenings were quieter. They sat by the fire, Pure Vanilla reading aloud from old books of winter tales while Shadow Milk pretended to listen from the armchair, secretly watching the firelight play across the healer’s face instead. Sometimes Pure Vanilla played a small wooden flute, notes drifting slow and wistful through the cabin. Shadow Milk would close his eyes and let the music settle over him like fresh snow.

He caught himself thinking, more than once, that reindeers often slept curled together in winter, bodies pressed close for warmth they didn’t truly need, antlers tangled, breath mingling in the cold air. It was practical as much as it was comforting to build bonds. Natural.

Having Pure Vanilla so near, yet separated by the width of the room each night, felt… wrong. Oftentimes he’d be disappointed internally at how he was so adamant about ‘respecting’ Shadow Milk and letting him have his bed when he was okay with sharing.

He’d flush at the thought and banish it quickly.

The official day of the Winter Festa arrived crisp and clear, the sky a bright cloudless blue that made the snow sparkle like diamonds.

Pure Vanilla emerged from his closet–the tiny one he’d surrendered most of his own clothes from so Shadow Milk had something warmer to wear–holding a thick coat of deep forest green, lined with pale fur at the collar and hood.

“You’ll need this in the village,” he said, holding it out. “The festival is outdoors most of the day.”

Shadow Milk took it cautiously. The fabric was heavy, soft, enchanted faintly to hold warmth. He slid his arms in, pulled the hood up; and immediately felt like he was being slowly cooked. It was still easy for his kind to run hot in winter; heavy clothes were more burden than blessing. But the coat smelled like Pure Vanilla and the fur trim brushed his cheeks softly when he moved.

He decided he could endure overheating for one day.

Pure Vanilla watched him adjust the sleeves, eyes warm. “It suits you.”

Shadow Milk ducked his head, muttering something that might have been thanks.

The walk to the village was short through the snow-packed path. Pure Vanilla led the way, boots crunching rhythmically, breath fogging in the air. Shadow Milk followed a step behind, coat pulled tight, hood up, secretly reveling in the bite of cold against his face whenever the wind shifted.

The festival unfolded like something out of the stories Pure Vanilla had told him.

Lanterns hung from every tree and stall, glowing gold and red and blue even in daylight. Music reverbed from everywhere, drums, bells, voices raised in bright carols. The air smelled of roasted chestnuts, mulled wine, cinnamon, and pine. Children darted past with painted faces and paper crowns. Vendors called out, offering hot drinks and sweets shaped like snowflakes.

Pure Vanilla greeted nearly everyone they passed, it was all warm smiles, quick hugs, inquiries about family and health. People greeted Shadow Milk too, curious but kind, assuming he was a friend visiting from afar. He nodded stiffly, keeping close to Pure Vanilla’s side, overwhelmed by the noise and color and sheer number of humans all in one place.

Ah, maybe Shadow Milk was a little nervous, a bit overwhelmed too.

Until he felt his arm being lifted.

He watched Pure Vanilla guide his arm to loop his with a smile, as if sensing Shadow Milk’s discomfort.

Shadow Milk’s face did not heat up.

But Pure Vanilla never strayed far. His hand brushed Shadow Milk’s elbow to guide him through crowds, or rested lightly on his back when introducing him to someone. Small touches meant to steady or ground.

They wandered for hours.

Or well, Shadow Milk.

When he eventually got comfortable with it all, he wanted to look at everything.

They drank hot cocoa so thick it coated the tongue. Pure Vanilla laughed when Shadow Milk got foam on his nose and wiped it away with a gentle thumb. They watched performers on stilts dressed as towering snow spirits. Shadow Milk won a small carved wooden reindeer at a ring-toss game, Pure Vanilla’s delighted cheering louder than anyone’s when the ring finally landed true. He clutched the little figure in his pocket the rest of the day, fingers brushing it secretly.

He would not cherish it forever very carefully.

As evening fell, the great central tree was lit; an enormous pine draped in thousands of lights. The crowd gathered, breath held, and when the switch was thrown the tree blazed into color, reflecting off snow and eyes and smiling faces.

Pure Vanilla stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder under the fur-lined hoods.

He watched the crowd of people around him begin to cheer and celebrate as loved ones started to hug each other and laugh. He heard shouts like “Happy Festa!” followed by chimes of bells.

Shadow Milk grinned sharply as he turned to Pure Vanilla looping his arms around him and squeezing him tightly, his cheek pressed to his chest.  He only started to let go confused as Pure Vanilla looked at him with an eyebrow raised, a large warm smile on his face no matter how questioning it was. His arms only remained stiff at his sides purely because Shadow Milk had his arms wrapped fully around them too. Through his confusion, his eyes showed nothing but fondness.

This confused Shadow Milk.

“What’s the matter? Don't loved ones do this?” Shadow Milk pulled back just enough to tilt his head at him, a light frown on his face.

Pure Vanilla chuckled soft and slightly breathless, his hand tapped lightly on Shadow Milk’s arm. “Yes… loved ones.”

Shadow Milk’s grin faltered into something smaller, more uncertain. He didn’t let go. If anything, he leaned in closer, voice quieter now. “Are we not loved ones?”

He hadn’t meant it so sound so small and vulnerable.

Sure, by definition he had only recently met Pure Vanilla. But among his kind, bonds formed fast and fierce, they shared warmth in a blizzard, a run beneath the moon, a brush of antlers in greeting. Days spent together like this, sharing food and shelter and quiet evenings by the fire… that was more than enough. It had to have meant something deep and immediate.

He hadn’t realized humans might measure it differently.

Now it was Pure Vanilla’s turn to flush.

Pure Vanilla’s cheeks colored a soft pink beneath the festival lights. He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again—searching for words that wouldn’t stumble over themselves.

“It’s just… usually it takes people a bit longer to—” He stopped, seeing the genuine confusion in Shadow Milk’s mismatched eyes. A helpless laugh escaped him. “Yes,” he said at last, voice warm and steady. “We are loved ones.”

Shadow Milk’s grin returned in full force, his personality returning once again as he laughed triumphantly, only further squeezing Pure Vanilla more by accident before releasing him. It was a little feral at the edges, but there was nothing malicious and untamed about it.

Both of their gazes returned back to the tree, appreciating the sight in their own ways.

Unbeknownst to Pure Vanilla, this was Shadow Milk’s first time feeling genuine warmth with another. He finally didn’t have to worry about labels or what he was born as. He could just be.

Unbeknownst to Shadow Milk, Pure Vanilla was happy he got to spend it with him at all.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Pure Vanilla murmured.

Shadow Milk could only nod. His throat felt tight.

Music swelled again, slow this time, a traditional song about light returning after the longest night. People began to pair off, swaying gently. It interested Shadow Milk greatly.

Pure Vanilla cleared his throat softly, the flush still lingering, and glanced around at the thickening crowd. “It’s getting loud here,” he murmured. “Would you like somewhere quieter? There’s a spot just down the lane; fewer people and still part of the festival, but calmer.”

Shadow Milk nodded immediately, relief flickering across his face. The noise and press of bodies had started to grate beneath his skin, even with the joy of it all.

Pure Vanilla led the way, weaving gently through the thinning edges of the crowd. Shadow Milk followed close behind, his hood still up, hands tucked into the deep pockets of the borrowed coat.

They passed the outdoor rink; a wide circle of ice gleaming under strings of soft white lights. Couples and families glided across it, some graceful, some wobbling and laughing as they clung to each other. Partners held hands, spun slowly, drew close until foreheads nearly touched, breath mingling in clouds of white.

Shadow Milk stopped dead.

His hidden ears flicked hard beneath the hood, twitching forward in sharp, eager motions he barely managed to control. His eyes went wide, fixed on the skaters.

The movements, the circling, the closeness, the way bodies leaned into one another in perfect balance, it was so familiar. Reindeer courted like this in deep winter: racing across frozen lakes, matching stride for stride, twirling in playful spirals until momentum brought them chest to chest, antlers brushing, breath warm against fur.

Was this… human courting?

His heart thudded hard against his ribs.

He had to do that. With Pure Vanilla.

He absolutely had to.

“Shadow Milk?”

Pure Vanilla’s voice broke through his reverie. The healer had paused a few steps ahead, looking back with gentle amusement.

Shadow Milk jolted, straightening quickly. “Coming,” he muttered, hurrying to catch up, cheeks warm beneath the hood.

But Shadow Milk shot the people one last glance, examining their moves. And then looking down what they were wearing. Their shoes.

Would they need those too? He’s only ever been on the ice with hooves, not much to work with if one has human feet.

Before he ran after Pure Vanilla he would snatch two pairs off the rack sneakily.

They continued down the lantern-lit lane until the music and laughter faded into a distant hum. Here, the festival thinned to quiet stalls selling hot drinks and small carved trinkets, a few benches dusted with snow, strings of lights draped between bare trees like frozen stars.

The silence settled soft and sudden, perhaps eerie to human ears, perhaps, but to Shadow Milk it was perfect. Deep-forest quiet. He’s dealt with it all his life, it’s common for him.

He breathed it in, shoulders loosening.

Pure Vanilla found a bench beneath a glowing arch of lights and brushed the snow from it before sitting. He patted the space beside him.

Shadow Milk dropped down immediately, close enough that their shoulders brushed. He pulled his hood back just a little, letting the cold night air kiss his face.

For a long moment they simply sat, watching soft snowflakes drift through the lantern light.

“Winter Festa is amazing.” Shadow Milk finally stated, breaking the silence finally. Had he known he was missing out on so many activities he would have used his magic for illusions much earlier then he had.

Pure Vanilla leans forward, his eyes scanning him curiously. “You really haven’t experienced the festa before?” Pure Vanilla tilted his head, an honest question that left Shadow Milk quickly fumbling for an answer.

“I have but…” Shadow Milk turned to look at him, his usual lies already lined up in his head. Yet as soon as he turned to make eye contact with Pure Vanilla–

Blank.

He can’t think of anything.

Anything.

“I…” Shadow Milk for once is caught off guard, stumbling on his words as he brain throws around blurry explanations he can’t seem to fully grasp. And he doesn’t understand why he can’t.

Pure Vanilla frowns at him for a moment, before gently reaching for his hands, holding them in his gloved hands compared to Shadow Milk’s bare ones. Shadow Milk would glance down at them with wide eyes before Pure Vanilla would call for his attention.

“Shadow Milk… It’s okay if this is your first year celebrating. It’s more normal than you would think. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Shadow Milk paused, he felt his eyes dilating and hoped it wasn’t too noticeable.

He…

He couldn’t ruin this, he can’t taint this memory he would carry. He can’t let Pure Vanilla know what he is.

Shadow Milk nervously swallowed, nodding along to what he said, agreeing blindly. “Yes, it is my first year. I normally don’t celebrate.” Shadow Milk’s hands clutched lightly at Pure Vanilla’s hands holding his. The contrast between his cold ones to Pure Vanilla’s warm ones was huge. “Not for even particular reason, I simply don’t.”

Pure Vanilla smiles at him, squeezing his hands back in response. “Then I hope I made it enjoyable enough for you.”

Shadow Milk nodded quickly, his ears folding back from under his hood before he would poof them away. “You did.” he responded, slightly breathless. “You did.”

They would sit in silence for a moment, Shadow Milk’s legs brushing against the skates he had brought with him, hidden under the bench.

Then Shadow Milk turned his head, voice low but determined.

“…Do you know how to ice skate?”

Pure Vanilla glanced at him, surprised, then followed his gaze back toward the distant rink. A slow, knowing smile curved his lips.

“I do,” he said gently. “Would you like to try?”

Shadow Milk’s answer was immediate, a sharp-toothed grin that flashed bright in the dark.

“Yes.”

He stood, offering his hand this time.

Pure Vanilla took it without hesitation, fingers curling warm and sure around Shadow Milk’s. He then handed him one of the pairs of skates he had stolen, Pure Vanilla looks at him surprised before giggling. 

His fingers fumbled with the unfamiliar straps and buckles, nerves prickling under his skin. It had been years since he’d danced a proper courtship on ice; racing across frozen rivers with another reindeer, matching stride for stride, breath clouding in the moonlight. This was different: blades instead of hooves, a human partner who probably didn’t know the steps, and the terrifying possibility of making a complete fool of himself.

He watched Pure Vanilla take of his gloves curiously, not even getting the chance to ask why before Pure Vanilla answered himself “We are skating together, yes? I’d want to feel it with my bare hands.”

Shadow Milk’s breath stuttered.

…What a way to word such a statement.

“Have you skated before?” Pure Vanilla asked, voice soft, eyes searching his face with quiet concern.

Shadow Milk hesitated. Saying yes might raise expectations he couldn’t meet. Saying no… might give him room to learn, to surprise.

“No,” he answered, a little too quickly. “Never.”

Pure Vanilla’s face brightened, not with disappointment thankfully, but with something more tender and delighted. “Then I get to teach you. Come on.”

Bonus points of Shadow Milk.

He guided Shadow Milk to the edge of the ice, one arm lightly around his waist until they both stepped onto the frozen surface. For the first few careful pushes, Shadow Milk stayed close, letting Pure Vanilla lead. The blades cut smooth lines; the motion wasn’t so different from skimming across ice on hoof-tips after all. His balance returned quickly, muscle memory from years of running wild over winter lakes guiding him.

He risked a glance back. Pure Vanilla was watching him, golden eyes wide with quiet wonder.

“You’re a natural,” Pure Vanilla said, voice warm with admiration.

A rush of pride warmed Shadow Milk’s chest. He straightened into pushing off a little harder, gliding in a gentle arc. Pure Vanilla matched him easily, falling into step beside him. Shadow Milk’s hidden ears flicked beneath the hood, truthfully he wanted to impress, to show what he could really do.

“Have you done this with someone before?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

Pure Vanilla laughed softly, breath fogging in the cold air. “A few times, it was long ago. They weren’t very good at it, though. We mostly just clung to each other and laughed.”

So no one had ever matched him. Good. He’ll blow his mind.

Shadow Milk’s grin sharpened. He reached out boldly, taking Pure Vanilla’s hand in his own. Their fingers laced together naturally, as if they’d done this a hundred times. He pushed forward, guiding them into a wider circle into then a gentle figure eight. Pure Vanilla followed without hesitation, letting Shadow Milk lead; and to his quiet delight, they synced perfectly. Glides matched stride for stride, turns mirrored, bodies leaning into each curve in seemingly effortless harmony.

In reindeer terms, this was exquisite courtship: perfect rhythm, perfect trust, perfect balance. Had any outsider reindeer been watching this happen, they would have swooned in awe. Shadow Milk’s reindeer heart soared.

Emboldened, he sped up, pulling Pure Vanilla into a faster glide. He spun him outward in a gentle twirl—then gasped as Pure Vanilla countered, catching him around the waist and dipping him low instead. For a long breathless moment Shadow Milk hung suspended, one leg extended, hood falling back, face inches from Pure Vanilla’s. The healer’s eyes were bright, cheeks flushed from cold and exertion, smile soft and wondering. They both stared at each other longingly, as if thinking about something.

Pure Vanilla seemed… hesitant about something, a new curious light in his eyes present now.

Shadow Milk didn’t notice it, his pulse thundered in his ears. He didn’t hate it at all.

With another thought, he was lucky he thought to tuck his ears away with magic before he had gotten dipped.

Pure Vanilla pulled him upright slowly, both of them laughing quietly, glowing under the aura of the moonlight.

They skated a while longer, their paces much slower now as he continued weaving lazy patterns. This was considered the encore of the courtship. Their hands still never fully parted until their lungs burned and their legs trembled pleasantly with fatigue. At last they glided back to the bench, collapsing side by side in a tumble of coats and scarves.

“That was incredible,” Pure Vanilla said, voice hushed with awe as he loosened his skates. “You seemed to learn so fast.”

Shadow Milk shrugged, trying not to look too proud. “It’s… kind of like a courtship—” He caught himself sharply, biting off the word. “Uh. Like a dance I knew once.”

Pure Vanilla tilted his head, curious once again, but he didn’t press. Instead he launched into gentle stories; more about Festa traditions, about candle-lit processions and shared meals, and about songs sung at dawn to welcome longer days. Shadow Milk listened intently, legs stretched out in front of him, skates dangling from his fingers. Every new detail lit his eyes brighter; he leaned forward, asking quiet questions, drinking it all in.

Eventually Pure Vanilla’s voice softened further. “And there’s the mistletoe, of course. People hang little sprigs of it above doorways or arches. If two people stand beneath it together…”

This caught Shadow Milk’s attention, his gaze drifted upward. Above their bench, woven into the lantern-lit arch, hung a small bunch of dark green leaves and white berries, tied with red ribbon.

In all light, he had noticed it there from the start, but he figured it was more decoration people did for the Festa. He didn’t think it held any more value other than that.

He pointed, questioning. “Like that?”

Pure Vanilla’s eyes went wide, it must have been his first time noticing it there. He looked quickly back at Shadow Milk, cheeks coloring deeply. “Yes. Exactly like that.”

Shadow Milk blinked. “It’s pretty. What does it do?”

Pure Vanilla rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy. “It’s… a tradition. If two people find themselves under a mistletoe, they’re supposed to kiss. But only if both want to. It’s never forced—just a sweet custom, mostly for couples.”

Shadow Milk processed slowly. Kissing. He knew the concept, he wasn’t dumb on that front. Humans pressed mouths together, a gesture of deep affection. Reindeer nuzzled instead, foreheads and muzzles brushing, antlers carefully angled. Mouth-to-mouth felt strange, intimate in a different way.

But if it was human tradition… and if it meant what he thought…

He leaned forward into Pure Vanilla’s space, close enough to see the faint snowflakes caught in his lashes.

“Define a couple.” he asked, voice low and earnest. “Like… partners? Like choosing someone to share winter with, to stay close to, to—” He gestured vaguely between them. “This?”

Pure Vanilla’s blush deepened, but his eyes were soft. “Yes… I suppose. Exactly like that.”

Shadow Milk’s heart stuttered. He leaned closer still, excitement sparking bright in his mismatched eyes.

“Then… we’re a couple, right?” A breathless pause. “Do you want to do it? The kiss?”

Pure Vanilla’s breath caught. For a long moment he simply looked at Shadow Milk, his eyes searching his expression, contemplating the idea. Something achingly tender in his expression. Then, shyly, he nodded.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I would like that very much.”

He lifted a gentle hand to Shadow Milk’s cheek, thumb brushing the curve beneath his hood. Slowly, carefully, he closed the distance.

Their lips met, it was a lot softer than Shadow Milk expected, warm despite the winter air. Shadow Milk’s eyes fluttered shut. It was different from nuzzling, it was sharper and sweeter, but a quiet spark that bloomed slow and deep in his chest.

He wasn’t very good at it. But he loved to explore the idea, even if he preferred nuzzling since that’s what he’s used to. Makes him sad Pure Vanilla will never have the antlers for Shadow Milk to nudge his own again.

Pure Vanilla pulled back just enough to rest their foreheads together, both breathing a little unsteadily.

“Happy Festa,” he murmured, voice hushed and smiling.

Shadow Milk’s answering smile was small, wondering, and utterly unguarded.

“Happy Festa,” he echoed.

Above them, the mistletoe swayed gently in the cold night breeze, lanterns glowing soft around them like quiet witnesses.

Instantly, Shadow Milk wanted another. So that’s what he did, leaning in for another until Pure Vanilla stopped him with his hand, chucking under his breath. “It’s getting too cold out here, let’s go back to the cabin for now.”

Shadow Milk didn’t even feel any change in the temperature, let alone notice it at all in the first place.

But as much as he liked the cold, it’s not like Pure Vanilla had any resistance to it like he did. Humans seemed pretty fragile. And he was starting to overheat too much under the coat anyway.

They walked back to the main center of the festival, there were noticeably less people there than before. However there was still enough to be considered a crowd. The change made him question how long they had truly spent on the ice. No matter, he carelessly tossed their skates to the rack, trailing after Pure Vanilla through the remaining people quickly.

Winter Festa wasn’t too bad, not bad at all. He still has the little trinket he had won earlier in his pocket for safe keeping. When he finally let the illusion drop later, he would tuck it into his fur likely.

Now that he thought about them, his friends, he’s sure they would have loved to celebrate the holiday here. Especially one of his friends who also seemed to think humans were also interesting from time to time. And they had activities that served as good enrichment if you were bored.

He’d probably laugh trying to see a big red reindeer trying to ice skate with those shoes. Not like Shadow Milk has ever seen him perform well even on hooves.

Ah, but now that it was over he had to face a new reality. Something that was starting to sink in a second time.

And now that he was almost to the cabin, staring down at where Pure Vanilla held his hand guiding him back.

He felt a new weight settle over him.

At this point, lying was no longer a possibility, it was no longer something he could accept. Not after everything they just did.

“Pure Vanilla, wait.”

He firmly planted his feet to the ground to stop himself abruptly, causing Pure Vanilla to come to a sudden halt as well, he looked back at him with an eyebrow raised. He didn’t pull away from him.

To say he was nervous was an understatement. Would everything change about him? Would Pure Vanilla show him a side he’d never seen before?

Would he see the real Pure Vanilla when he saw a ‘beast’ standing in front of him.

“Go on,” Pure Vanilla said softly, voice barely louder than the hush of snow. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Shadow Milk swallowed hard. He glanced around, no one else on the path, no distant voices from the festival, just the muffled quiet of the woods and the faint glow of the cabin ahead. Alone.

He took one slow step back, letting their hands separate. The cold rushed in immediately where warmth had been.

“I’ve been keeping a secret from you,” he said, voice rougher than he wanted. “From the beginning.”

Pure Vanilla’s expression didn’t change, there was no wariness, no suspicion. Just that same quiet attention as if he already sensed the weight of what was coming.

Shadow Milk closed his eyes for a moment, drew a shaky breath, and let the illusion unravel.

It felt like stepping naked into a blizzard and finding sunlight instead.

The shift rippled over him in a cool wave: legs lengthening and reshaping into powerful, cloven hooves that sank slightly into the snow; soft light-blue fur blooming across his skin like frost on midnight glass; the proud sweep of antlers unfurling from his head, branching wide and elegant; the small fluffy tail flicking once behind him. The borrowed coat still hung loose around his broader shoulders, sleeves too short now,

He stood tall; taller than before and unmistakably a reindeer. He now had to look slightly down at Pure Vanilla due to having grown a few inches. He waited for the recoil of emotions.

He waited for the shout, the step back, the horror. The scream. For the gentle mask to fall away and reveal the hunter underneath.

He waited for the reveal of a weapon.

If Pure Vanilla had pointed a weapon at him, would he move?

Instead, Pure Vanilla’s eyes widened, but Shadow Milk didn’t sense any fear, Pure Vanilla’s eyes showed wonder. His lips parted on a quiet exhale that fogged in the cold air.

“You are more beautiful than I could have imagined,” he whispered.

Shadow Milk’s heart stuttered.

…

“…What?”

Pure Vanilla took a slow step closer, hands lifting palms-up in gentle offering. “I suspected,” he admitted softly. “Not at first. But tonight—on the ice—some of the ways you moved, the rhythm you fell into so naturally… I’ve studied reindeer behavior before. It was old research, years ago when I had a study on reindeers.  The courtship patterns you showed on the frozen lake, the way partners mirror and lead…” A shy, wondering smile curved his lips. “It was familiar. I noticed it instantly.”

He stopped just in front of Shadow Milk, close enough to see that snowflakes caught on both their noses.

“I didn’t know for certain,” Pure Vanilla continued, voice steady and warm. “But I hoped. And I never wanted to push. I only wanted you to feel safe enough to choose when.”

At such a revelation, Shadow Milk could only be confused. “You… hoped?”

Shadow Milk stared, his throat tighter than usual. Tears pricked sharp at the corners of his eyes, and he blinked hard against them, angry at how easily they rose, how vulnerable he felt with antlers bared and fur exposed.

He should have his defenses up, be ready to rear his antlers up and push forward, Or getting ready to deliver a harsh kick to the chest.

Instead, Shadow Milk stood unsure.

Pure Vanilla’s hands hovered near his face, hesitant. “May I…?”

Shadow Milk didn’t speak. He simply leaned forward, pressing his furred cheek into Pure Vanilla’s waiting palms. He crouched slightly, letting them finally be at eye level again.

The touch was careful at first, fingertips tracing the soft fur along his jaw, brushing reverently up to the base of one antler. Then both hands cupped his face fully, thumbs stroking gently beneath his eyes, catching the tears before they could fall.

Shadow Milk’s voice cracked when it came. “Are you going to kill me now?”

The question hung raw and trembling between them.

Pure Vanilla’s expression showed full heartbreak. He shook his head at once, stepping closer until their chests nearly touched, until Shadow Milk could feel the warmth radiating from him even through the coat.

“No,” he said firmly, voice thick with emotion. “Never. Never that. Every moment we’ve shared has been real. Every smile, every story… all of it was real. I’m only glad—relieved beyond words—that I finally get to see all of you.”

He brushed a thumb across Shadow Milk’s cheek again, catching another stray tear.

“You’re safe here,” Pure Vanilla whispered. “You’ve always been safe with me. And you always will be.”

Shadow Milk’s breath hitched. The tears won this time, spilling hot down his furred cheeks. He leaned fully into Pure Vanilla’s hands, eyes closing, antlers tilting forward until the very tips brushed lightly against the healer’s hair. A common thing his kind would do for comfort.

For the first time in his life, he didn’t feel like a beast.

He felt like someone cherished.

Exactly as he was.

Even if it was still all a ruse, all a ploy to get Shadow Milk to believe it was real, he believed it. He let himself indulge.

He figured at that moment if Pure Vanilla were to end him right there, he would embrace it with open arms because there would never be another quite like Pure Vanilla.

So Shadow Milk let his tears be wiped, he let himself be guided back into the cabin and sat on the couch. His eyes immediately went towards the tree, all of the decorations they had pinned to it earlier, the star continuing to shine.

That was all them.

Shadow Milk hissed to himself as he frantically wiped at his face, trying to remove all evidence of vulnerability he showed. Crying over simple emotions… over a human no less. One might have laughed at him, or even called him crazy. He felt foolish.

“Here.” Pure Vanilla’s voice shook him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t realized Pure Vanilla had taken his leg into his lap, peeling back the bandages for him. “Just to check on it.

Shadow Milk already knew what to expect.

Underneath, the wound had fully healed, there wasn’t so much as a scar left in its place where there most definitely should have been. Shadow Milk expected that, the leg barely ached at all, it also doesn’t inconvenience him at all when he walks.

Which means he very much can run now, just as he was able to before.

Pure Vanilla scans his face again, likely trying to get a read for his emotions. “It’s a long day, you can take my room again.” Pure Vanilla began, already beginning to turn off the many lights decorated on the tree.

Shadow Milk frowned, hooved tapping against the floor as he walked. After being human for so long, it was almost as if he himself forgot this tree nature. “You aren’t coming?”

Pure Vanilla paused, he took a moment before turning to look at him with hesitance. Though it wasn’t the hesitance that suggested he didn’t like the idea, more the idea of not wanting to invade Shadow Milk’s space. He could tell by his expression.

“...Are you sure?” He questioned slowly.

Shadow Milk nodded, smirking as he padded over to the bedroom. After revealing his true nature, he had figured Pure Vanilla wouldn’t be so ready to deny. After all, he did state himself he did a whole study of his kind. How flattering.

Though he found it funny how… shy, Pure Vanilla could get in such simple situations. For example, sleeping in close proximity.

He knew it was probably weird to do for humans, but as Shadow Milk watched Pure Vanilla climb into the bed as slow as a turtle, he figured he had to be overreacting at this point. Reindeers are so simple, never this much hassle.

Anyway, something is only ever so weird when one believes it’s weird.

Shadow Milk was quick to curl in close, ignoring how stiff Pure Vanilla got every time he moved. Honestly it was amusing.

However, eventually Pure Vanilla’s hands reach for his antlers, his fingers light as Shadow Milk felt the brush of them. They wandered curiously along the velvet base, tracing the sensitive new growth with the lightest touch.

Shadow Milk had allowed it for a moment, it caused his heart to pound and his breath to become shallow before instinct overrode trust. He’d shy away with a soft huff, ears flicking back, body tensing despite himself. Antlers were sacred, fragile in more ways than one. To let another touch them was to offer the deepest vulnerability, reserved only for a true partner whose own antlers could answer in kind.

Pure Vanilla had withdrawn immediately, murmuring an apology, but his eyes had held understanding. He’d filed the reaction away gently, the way he did with every new piece of Shadow Milk he was allowed to see.

They’d fallen asleep eventually with Shadow Milk curled possessively against Pure Vanilla’s side, antlers carefully angled away. The cabin was quiet, the fire already put out, and for a few precious hours everything felt possible.

But biology is patient and unforgiving.

Shadow Milk woke sometime in the deepest part of the night, body flushed with uncomfortable heat beneath his thick winter coat. The air in the cabin hadn’t truly changed, it was still cool and winter was very much still present, but to him it felt stifling. His blood ran too warm, his fur too heavy. The migratory pull that he’d ignored for so long to stay tugged insistently now, sharp and undeniable.

North. Colder. Wilder.

Where the wind cut like blades and the snow never melted.

He lay still for a long while, watching Pure Vanilla sleep, his face relaxed, lips slightly parted, one hand resting on Shadow Milk’s forearm even in dreams. The ache in his chest was worse than any trap.

He’d known this would come. It was why he’d fought attachment so hard.

Carefully, he slipped from the bed, his hooves silent on the wooden floor. He paused in the doorway, looking back once more, then padded into the main room. The Festa tree still glowed faintly in the corner, ornaments catching light from the star that sat up top. He stared at it for a long moment, tail drooping.

At the front door he hesitated again, forehead pressed to the cool wood.

Then he stepped outside.

The porch boards creaked softly under his weight. The snow fell slowly, a contrast to the blizzard they started in. It settled on his fur gently. He leaned onto the wooden railing, watching the forest breathe white into the night.

Footsteps behind him brought him out of his thoughts.

“Shadow Milk?” Pure Vanilla’s voice was thick with sleep, obviously laced with worry. He’d pulled on a robe against the chill, his hair tousled from sleep as if they’d only been ran through with a hand.  “What are you doing out here?”

Shadow Milk didn’t turn. “I have to go,” he said quietly. “North. Soon. It’s… getting too warm for me.”

Pure Vanilla stepped closer, bare feet silent in the snow, it was as if his focus on Shadow Milk negated the effects of the cold. He stood beside Shadow Milk, close enough that their shoulders brushed.

“Can’t you stay? Just a little longer? Or… could I come with you?”

Shadow Milk’s ears flattened. He shook his head, voice rough. “You’d freeze. The places I go when I follow the weather, no human could survive it. I won’t drag you into that.” Shadow Milk sighed, looking down at his hands. “Plus, there would be other reindeer there, they all aren’t exactly known to be friendly to humans.”

“Of course they’d never mess with you if they knew you were with me.”  Shadow Milk tried to playfully laugh before he turned serious again. “But I wouldn’t want you to live like that.”

He shifted abruptly, turning to face Pure Vanilla at last. The healer’s face was saddened deeply, eyes shining against the light the sun provided from behind the clouds..

“I’m sorry,” Shadow Milk whispered. He stepped forward, wrapping arms around Pure Vanilla’s waist, pressing his face to the crook of his neck. “I loved being here. With you. More than I thought possible.”

Pure Vanilla’s arms came around him instantly, his figure trembling faintly. “I love you,” he said against Shadow Milk’s fur, his voice breaking slightly.

Shadow Milk’s breath hitched. He pulled back just enough to meet Pure Vanilla’s eyes.

“I love you too.”

Then instinct took over. He leaned in, tilting his head to lock antlers—only to meet empty air. A frustrated huff escaped him. Instead, he cupped Pure Vanilla’s face in furred hands and pressed his nose gently to the healer’s, it was meant to last and linger, the closest a reindeer could come to a human kiss.

He pulled away slowly, every step backward feeling like tearing.

At the edge of the porch he crouched, his muscles coiling in response to magic gathering beneath his hooves for the leap that would carry him into the sky.

“Wait!”

Pure Vanilla’s voice cracked across the clearing. Shadow Milk paused, he was already half-turned with the snow swirling around him.

Pure Vanilla ran forward cheeks flushed with cold and desperation. “One last dance,” he pleaded. “Please.”

Shadow Milk’s heart twisted. He couldn’t deny him that.

He stepped forward, offering his hands.

They began slowly like last time, circling each other in the clearing, their steps light and careful, their hands linked. There was no ice beneath them this time, they had to work with just soft powder that muffled every footfall. Shadow Milk led at first, guiding Pure Vanilla through gentle turns and spins that sent snow spiraling upward like stardust.

Then Pure Vanilla took the lead.

His movements grew sharper, bolder and aggressive in the way reindeer stags sometimes danced when claiming a partner. They were admittedly powerful steps, sudden spins, a low dip that stole Shadow Milk’s breath entirely.

Mid-dip, Pure Vanilla froze.

A shudder ran through him, clear and visible enough for Shadow Milk to want to question. That was before golden light flickered beneath his skin like sunrise through frost.

Shadow Milk’s eyes widened.

Fur bloomed across Pure Vanilla’s body, rich golden to the point it looked glowing; thick and luxurious. His legs lengthened and reshaped into powerful hooves that sank deep into the snow. Claws curved from fingertips. And from his head, magnificent antlers unfurled; broad and sweeping, taller even than Shadow Milk’s own.

He rose to his full height, now towering over him once again, his eyes still held that same warmth but it was now framed by fur and starlight.

Shadow Milk could only stare, mouth agape and heart thundering.

Pure Vanilla slowed their dance to something delicate, almost reverent in the way he was spinning Shadow Milk once, twice, then drawing him close until their chests pressed together.

“I’ve been lying to you too,” Pure Vanilla said quietly, his voice seeming slightly deeper now. “For years. I suppressed it—hid it—so long I almost forgot how.” He bowed his head, apology in every line of his body. “I’m sorry.”

Then, carefully, really carefully, he tilted forward until their antlers met.

And Shadow Milk would say the lock was perfect. They were tangled gently, holding without pain, the way only true partners could manage.

Shadow Milk’s breath caught on a soft, wondering sound. Every instinct that he had been shying away from before now sang in harmony; yes, this one, safe, home.

Pure Vanilla’s voice was barely a whisper. “Did I do it right?”

Shadow Milk laughed, he was giddy now, a grin heavily on his face as he pressed closer, antlers clicking softly as he nuzzled along Pure Vanilla’s jaw.

“Perfect.” Shadow Milk bleated, his tail flicking in delight.

“I hoped,” Pure Vanilla admitted. “I had wanted to mimic you perfectly.”

“Don’t you realize what this means?” Shadow Milk pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, grin sharp and bright. “You can come north now. With me.”

Pure Vanilla hesitated, glancing back at the cabin, the life he’d built, the solitude he’d chosen to from time to time to protect his secret.

“I… don’t know how to be a reindeer anymore,” he said softly. “Not really.”

Shadow Milk stepped closer, pressing their foreheads together again, antlers locked in gentle hold.

“Then I’ll teach you,” he said fiercely. “Everything. How to run, how to fly, how to dance properly.” His tail swished, newfound excitement thrumming through him. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Pure Vanilla’s eyes shone. Slowly, shyly, he nodded.

Then, softer: “Before we go… could we… kiss? The reindeer way?”

Shadow Milk snickered, ears flicking forward. “We don’t really ‘kiss,’ you know. Nuzzling’s better. But…” He tilted his head invitingly. “Go on. Try.”

Pure Vanilla mirrored him carefully, it was slow and reverent, obviously a method of trying to get Shadow Milk to take the lead mostly. Their faces met, warm breath mingling between each other,  noses brushing in gentle circles. Antlers clacked softly as they shifted, locking deeper, holding.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice low and a little rough. “While on that topic, before we go… can we try it again? The, uh… human way?”

Pure Vanilla drew back just enough to meet his eyes. Surprise flickered across his face followed quickly by a warm understanding smile. His newly revealed antlers gleamed in the moonlight, broad and proud but his expression was as patient as ever.

“Of course,” he said softly. “If you want to.”

Shadow Milk huffed, trying to hide his nerves behind bravado. “I want to. Just… you lead this time. You’re better at the human stuff.”

Pure Vanilla’s smile widened, fond and a little teasing. He shifted his hold; one hand coming up and sliding to cradle the back of Shadow Milk’s neck, careful of the antlers, the other settling lightly at his waist. He leaned in slowly, giving Shadow Milk every chance to pull away.

Shadow Milk didn’t.

Their muzzles brushed first, it was something to offer familiarity, before Pure Vanilla adjusted properly and tilted his head just so. His lips met Shadow Milk’s in a soft press. It was steady and unhurried. Not the quick and curious peck they had under the mistletoe, but it was something deeper, more like gentle exploration or a quiet promise.

Shadow Milk’s eyes fluttered shut. The sensation was still strange. Was this truly how humans did it? No antlers to tangle, no fur to nuzzle through, it wasn’t anything like his kind but it sent the same spark racing down his spine. He leaned into it, letting Pure Vanilla guide the angle, the pressure, and the slowness before parting and coming back again.

When they finally separated, it was only by inches. Their foreheads rested together, antlers brushing again with soft clicks.

“Like that?” Pure Vanilla whispered, voice husky with affection.

Shadow Milk exhaled a shaky laugh, cheeks burning even through the cold. “Yeah,” he admitted, breathless. “A lot like that.”

Pure Vanilla stole one more brief, tender kiss—just because he could—then nuzzled along Shadow Milk’s jaw in the reindeer way that felt like coming home.

“Good,” he murmured against soft blue fur, his voice starting to drop. “Because we have all the time in the world to practice both.” He paused briefly. “And more.”

Shadow Milk smirked, ignoring how his face flushed further. Whatever that meant.

It was a long quiet moment shared between them, the snow falling around them, the world itself seeming hushed.

Pure Vanilla drew back just enough to whisper, “Does this mean… we’re partners now?”

Shadow Milk’s grin was all teeth and joy.

“Yes,” he said. “Now. For life, if you want it.”

Pure Vanilla’s answer was to nuzzle him again, more confident this time, their antlers tangled tight.

Shadow Milk laughed, now brighter and more free. He crouched slightly and coiled his magic beneath them both. With a powerful leap, he launched them skyward, hooves kicking up a spiral of snow that glittered in the moonlight.

They rose together, faint trails of blue and gold in their wake as they made their way into the clouds.

North waited.