"Blitzen!"

He awoke to a hoof prodding his shoulder. He raised his chin from his folded forelegs and found himself looking into the face of a familiar dark ginger buck. "Rise and shine, pal!"

Blitzen yawned. "Sunrise already?" He slowly stood, kicking loose bits of hay from his hooves.

This cozy pile of hay was where he slept every night. Seven other nests lay along the walls of their home. It was a cozy, warm barn with Christmas lights strung across the walls, troughs of food and water, and warm wool blankets.

"Yep!" The younger buck trotted toward the barn door. "You know the drill." His eyes gleamed. "It's December 22nd, and Santa wants our help around the workshop."

I know. It's been the drill for centuries! Blitzen nodded his great antlered head. "I'll be right out, Comet."

As Comet galloped out of the barn, Blitzen stepped out of his bed of hay and surveyed his surroundings. A few of the others were still asleep. "Prancer, Vixen, Donner," He called quietly. "It's time to wake up."

"Already?" Prancer moaned as his chin plopped down in the hay. "But it's waaaayyyyyy too early, dude."

Across the barn, Donner grunted. "We've only been on this schedule the past two-hundred years! Get used to it."

"Don't be rude, Donner." Vixen blinked his gentle hazel eyes. "Yes, it is early, Prancer, but it will all be worth it when those children smile on Christmas Day!"

As Donner rolled his eyes, Blitzen stepped out to his water trough and lowered his head, drinking the cool arctic water. The golden star shaped pendant hanging from his neck tapped gently against the side of the trough.

Two-hundred years had passed since that stormy night Blitzen had lost his life. But he had been given another by the hand of Saint Nicholas. After the revival, the old man had explained his miraculous story to Blitzen. The man had lived alone in the North Pole for years, fishing, sawing down trees for firewood, and simply surviving off of the snowy land. Nicholas claimed that one night, when all felt lost, the spirits of the northern lights gave him a gift- the ability to revive the dead.

However, this ability wouldn't work for humans, nor dogs, cats, or horses. Only one animal could receive this gift. The deer. Why? Even Saint Nicholas didn't know. The northern lights only promised that these noble creatures would help him bring joy to the world.

When Blitzen finished drinking, he started toward the barn doors, Prancer and Vixen following. Twitching an ear, he looked over his shoulder. Donner remained in his bed, his dark body motionless. "Donner?"

"I'll meet you at the workshop, okay?" The buck grumbled.

As Prancer and Vixen exchanged a glance, Blitzen hesitated. "Alright." He looked forward and led his companions outside.

The pale sun had begun to rise over the snowy hills in the distance. The cool air felt good on Blitzen's brown coat as he stepped onward, his hooves sinking gently into the snow, which glistened with the light of morning.

Up ahead stood three other deer. Dasher, a sleek coated dark brown buck stood tall and proud. Dancer was staring out into the distance at who knows what. Cupid stood calmly and patiently, his gentle eyes fixing on Blitzen as he neared.

"Good morning, Blitzen." Cupid spoke in his usual kind, soft tone. "Did you sleep well?"

Blitzen dipped his head slightly. "I did, thank you." He looked past them. "Where is Comet?"

"Take a guess." Dasher snorted, jerking his antlers toward the workshop in the distance. "That deer can't stay still for five minutes!" His eyes narrowed. "He'd better not be talking to the does without me. Not that he'd have a shot with any of them."

Dasher hasn't changed a bit over the years. Blitzen shook his head good humoredly. Neither has Dancer. He realized, seeing that he hadn't yet noticed Blitzen's presence.

For many years, Blitzen had been the only companion of Saint Nicholas. The man had explained that when the right deer died, the northern lights would send him a sign. Sure enough, over the years, seven signs had been given to him, and seven reindeer had been found and revived just as Blitzen had been. Each deer had suffered in death, but been given a new life of purpose.

Dasher had been on the team for about one-hundred years now. He was quite irresponsible, spunky, and arrogant. He claimed to be the handsomest buck on the team, and tried to establish this by flirting with every doe he met. Blitzen couldn't be sure who he loved more, himself, or the females who so easily distracted him. Perhaps it was the females, due to the circumstances of his death.

After receiving a message from the northern lights, Saint Nicholas and Blitzen had journeyed to a forest where they'd found the mauled body of Dasher. He had been killed defending a group of does from a trio of hungry wolves.

Dasher could be a real pain in the tail sometimes. But everyone on the team knew that he possessed an impressive level of bravery, and could be serious when he needed to be. Of course, they'd never hear the end of it if they told him this.

"Are we ready to go?" Vixen prompted from beside Blitzen.

"Oh!" Dancer's ears perked up as he turned his head, his eyes wide. "Blitzen, sir! Sorry, I didn't see you there!"

"That's okay, Dancer." Blitzen couldn't hide the amusement from his tone. "And I've told you, you don't have to call me 'sir'."

Being the oldest member of the team, the younger bucks tended to treat him with a great amount of respect. Of course, there was nothing wrong with respect. But Blitzen didn't want to be treated differently from anyone else.

"Let's go!" Dasher shifted his hooves impatiently before trotting off through the snow. While Dancer skipped after him gleefully, Blitzen, Cupid, Vixen, and Prancer followed more slowly.

"You'd think he'd be more careful," Prancer commented. "I mean, didn't he fall off a cliff?"

It was true. Dancer's death had been less than heroic. Several years after Dasher's death, this poor playful deer had fallen off a cliff while chasing a butterfly. Blitzen and Saint Nicholas had been quite perplexed when they'd come across this twisted buck laying in the dirt far below the ledge. "This certainly wasn't what I expected," Nicholas had commented. "But if the northern lights have chosen him, he must be worth more than he seems." Though Dancer had a bright spirit and was a great friend, he lacked some intelligence.

"I don't think you're in any position to judge him, Prancer," Blitzen commented, nudging his friend.

Prancer looked embarrassed. "Oh, yeah, well. Lights are distracting, you know!" His eyelids half closed. "So bright and pretty..."

Prancer was the most recent addition to the team, less than a hundred years ago. He'd been hit by a car while stunned by it's headlights. Many of The Eight hadn't seen these strange man-made things in their first lives, and the idea that one could so easily trick a deer into death frightened them.

The world has changed so much since this all began. Blitzen thought. And yet our mission stays the same. As more deer joined the team, Saint Nicholas became more certain of his purpose. Bring happiness to others. Here in the North Pole, he had begun building toys out of wood for children. He wanted to give one to every child in the world! In one night! It seemed crazy, plain impossible. No man on horseback, no train, no boat could make such a journey.

There was an incredible answer to this wish. Though The Eight were alive now, they had died before. Some part of them was a spirit. This gave them the miraculous ability to fly. For nearly a hundred years, only birds and deer held the ability of flight. But of course, mankind soon learned and built strange metal birds that loudly soared across the sky.

And so every year on December 24th, The Eight journeyed around the world, one with the starry sky as they pulled Saint Nicholas in his sleigh filled with gifts for the children. Elves had been recruited to help build toys in the workshop, and the reindeer helped around too. Christmas was a day of joy and love. Saint Nicholas' wish had come true, though the modern world had come to call him Santa Claus.

Nicholas and The Eight were immortal to a degree, thanks to the spirits of the northern lights. None of them would ever die of old age, or natural causes. However an accident could be dangerous. None of them ever dared test the extent of their immortality. It was better to be safe than sorry.

It wasn't long before they reached the little village around the workshop. This was where the elves lived, in little houses too small for a full sized human to enter. The little village held more than just the houses. There was a little restaurant called the Yule Log, an ice rink, and a club called The North Pole, where some elves hung out at night.

"Good morning, reindeer!" An elf named Twinkles spoke cheerfully, her pointy bell hat jingling as she walked by, carrying a stack of presents. "Have you by chance seen Pringles? He's supposed to be helping me in the workshop, but I bet ten candy canes he's in his house eating chips!"

While Prancer and Cupid frowned, Blitzen shook his head. "I'm sorry, I haven't seen him."

As he and the other deer carried on, Twinkles called out. "Hey, Wrinkles! Have you seen Pringles?"

Wrinkles' old cranky voice rose from behind them. "WHAT?" This old elf was hard of hearing. "Speak up, miss!"

As Twinkles repeated herself loudly, Prancer chuckled. "Didn't Santa give him a hearing aid last Christmas?"

"Yes, but he refuses to use it," Blitzen replied. "Wrinkles is quite stubborn."

To the right side of the village stood a barn, a bit like the one The Eight stayed in, but smaller and less decorated. This was where the other reindeer stayed.

Of course, there were other reindeer in the North Pole. But these were ordinary deer without the gift of eternal life from Saint Nicholas. Most of these deer admired The Eight, and were happy to help them prepare for Christmas. More often than not, The Eight enjoyed their company. However it always seemed short lived. The other reindeer came and went with their regular lifespans, merely passing guests in their endless lives.

For a long time, this had been a painful reality to accept for The Eight. In the sanctuary of the North Pole, the average deer lived about twelve years. It seemed that in the blink of an eye, an energetic newborn fawn became an elder gasping its' final breath. But centuries later, The Eight had grown used to their companions dying. Though it still saddened Blitzen, he considered himself lucky to be alive to befriend each and every one.

Three of the deer were outside now: Two does named Prisma and Luna, and a buck named Walnut. Upon noticing the members of The Eight, Prisma's eyes brightened. "Good day!" Not far from her, Walnut dipped his head respectfully.

"Look! It's The Eight!" Two fawns skipped excitedly out of the barn on short wobbly legs, their coats spotted white like the frost beneath their hooves.

Their mother, a light tan doe named Chestnut, followed more slowly, her eyes warm. "Peanut! Hazel! I'm sure the Eight are too busy to play today."

"It's quite alright." Vixen stepped forward and left his companions to greet the fawns. He lowered his head when they reached him, eyes alight with joy.

"It's almost Christmas!" Hazel exclaimed, giving a little excited bounce. "I can't wait to see you fly across the sky!"

Peanut nodded agreement with his sister. "Chestnut says it's the most amazing thing!"

Vixen laughed quietly. "It's certainly something!" He lightly nudged Hazel with his dark nose. "Don't forget, Santa always has a special gift for you, too." His teal eyes were warm and gentle as he spoke to them, as if they were more precious to him than anything.

The members of The Eight knew that Vixen loved children more than any of them. Blitzen had not been with Saint Nicholas when he'd found Vixen, but he'd been told the story. Long ago, Vixen had a family of his own. But during a harsh winter, he and his family quickly began to starve. Vixen had sacrificed himself for his mate and two fawns, giving all of his food to them. Saint Nicholas had found Vixen, a frozen, skeletal body in the snow. Vixen was the most caring and gentle of The Eight, and loved his job in bringing gifts to children, even if they weren't of his own species.

While Peanut and Hazel giggled and skipped around Vixen, Blitzen saw that Dasher had strut his way over to the does. "Good morning, ladies!" He said flirtatiously.

While Crystal and Luna exchanged an amused look, Prisma rolled her eyes. "Hello, Dasher." Her tone revealed that this hadn't been the first time Dasher tried his luck with them.

Dasher held his head high, proudly showing off his antlers. "Which one of you lucky does wants to go dashing through the snow with me?"

"I think we'd rather go dashing through the snow without you." Prisma replied, her eyes gleaming as her companions broke into laughter.

Dasher stiffened in offense. "Hey, now just a minute-"

"Oh look, Cupid is here!" Crystal's ears perked up. "Let's go see him." As all three does trotted past Dasher, he stared after them in disbelief.

Prancer slowly stepped to Dasher's side. "That burn looks pretty bad, dude," He commented. "You'd better roll in the snow."

"Oh, shut up, Prancer!" Dasher scowled. "Cupid isn't half as attractive as I am."

Beyond them, the three does had flocked around another deer. "Hello, Cupid." Prisma smiled. "How are you today?"

"Oh, I'm alright." Cupid ducked his head shyly. "How are you?"

Cupid was quite the opposite of Dasher. While Dasher was flirtatious and had an ego like no other, Cupid was sweet, kind, and never asked nor expected attention from does. Nevertheless, he was adored by them. Cupid had been quite timid after Blitzen and Nicholas had found him, shot in the throat with an arrow by hunters. Though he was still shy at times, he'd become much more comfortable around others.

"Hey, guys!" Comet skidded through the snow in front of the workshop, nearly trampling an elf named Jingles. "Whoa!"

"Aaaa!" Jingles screamed in alarm, stumbling over and falling into the snow with a little jingle of the bells on his hat and shoes. "Comet, my goodness, are you trying to kill me?"

Comet quickly stepped back. "Sorry, Jingles!"

Blitzen was mildly amused. Comet was definitely the fastest of The Eight. He could speed over snow and sky like a bullet with antlers. In his last moments of life, this gift had saved many animals from a raging forest fire. But unfortunately, he couldn't save himself. Saint Nicholas had found the poor buck burnt to a crisp before reviving him.

The little elf pulled himself to his feet, grumbling and shaking snow from his little green hat. "Always in a rush, you..." He sighed. "Santa wants to see you in the workshop."

Blitzen stepped to Comet's side. "We were just on our way," He told Jingles before looking over his shoulder at his companions. "Come on!" He called.

Cupid politely said his goodbyes to the does and hurried to join his companions, while Vixen touched his nose to Peanut and Hazel's heads in turn, telling them to be good before following.

Two elves, Shingles and Sprinkles, nodded to the reindeer and pulled open the mighty wooden doors of the workshop. The members of The Eight headed inside, their hooves clicking on the hardwood flooring.

This was where Christmas happened. Where letters were read, gifts were built, and packed into the majestic red sleigh that The Eight pulled across the sky every year. At this time, the elves were very busy, building last minute gifts, double checking the naughty and nice list, and filling the sleigh.

"Ah, yes, The Eight. Good morning!"

A deep but warm voice rumbled a greeting. A plump old man in a red and white suit stepped forward in heavy black boots. His long curly beard white as fresh snow, his old eyes twinkling behind small round glasses. This was a man known by many names over the years. Saint Nicholas, Father Christmas. But today, most of the world knew him as Santa Claus.

Blitzen bowed his head respectfully, and the other reindeer did the same. Saint Nicholas stepped forward and gingerly rested the palm of his hand over Blitzen's head, just as he had done when he'd first found him all those years ago. He closed his eyes with content.

Though Saint Nicholas felt great love and respect for all of The Eight, he had a deeper connection with Blitzen. He had been the first, his companion throughout his journey to build this holiday. He had accompanied Saint Nicholas on almost all of his journeys to find the seven other reindeer. Dasher often teased Blitzen about being "Santa's favorite".

"Eight," Saint Nicholas began, his eyes traveling over the reindeer. "Tomorrow is December 23rd, and I need you to-" He suddenly paused. "Where is Donner?"

The reindeer exchanged uncertain looks while Blitzen looked over his shoulder in surprise. I thought he would have joined us by now. "He said he would catch up with us," He hesitantly told Nicholas. ""I'm sure he won't be long."

Though Blitzen wasn't sure. Donner had always seemed... Different from the other members of The Eight. He was serious. Dead serious. Never cracked a smile or a joke. His eyes were always dull and distant, as if he saw the world through a lens of sorrow.

But Donner never failed to perform his duties in the workshop. Saint Nicholas frowned. "Odd..." After a moment, he went on. "There are two hundred extra rolls of wrapping paper in Sprinkles' house. Could you bring them here for me? With each of you pulling a sleigh full, I doubt it would take long."

"Of course, sir." Blitzen nodded and turned, leading his companions back outside.

When the elves closed the doors behind them, Dasher muttered. "Odd is one word to describe Donner." Blitzen glared over his shoulder, and Dasher blinked. "What?"

"Donner is just a little different." Vixen said quietly, his voice full of respect for the older buck.

Comet frowned. "I wonder why he's so secretive."

"Remember, we don't know what he's been through." Vixen murmured.

That was true. Donner was the only one of The Eight whose past and circumstances of death remained a mystery. Like in the cases Vixen, Comet, and Cupid, Blitzen had not accompanied Saint Nicholas when he'd found Donner. And Donner nor Saint Nicholas had ever revealed any information about it. And then there were his scars.

When each of The Eight had been revived, for years they bore deformities and scars from their circumstances of death. It had been a truly horrifying time. Blitzen had struggled with a pressure on his left side for years, as if the tree that had killed him was still crushing his body against the earth. Dasher had fur and flesh missing where the wolves had torn it away. Dancer had a twisted hind leg and a long scar across his flank. Prancer's neck had been broken, his head tilted awkwardly from the car which had struck him. Vixen had been horrifyingly skinny, like a skeleton with a single layer of skin tight around a boney frame. Comet had been furless, his body a red and black canvas of burnt flesh. Cupid had a hole in his throat.

It had been a truly horrifying time. But over the years, as the reindeer moved on from their pasts, the magic of the northern lights healed them. Soon, they looked just like any other healthy deer. That is, all but Donner.

Since the day Donner joined The Eight, he bore a scar across his left eye, and a strange hole in his ear on the same side. In the past two hundred years, they had never even begun to heal. No one knew what the scars were from, and why Donner was so secretive about his past. Occasionally one of the reindeer would ask. And every time, Donner would refuse to share any information.

He's become more and more depressed over the years. Blitzen thought as he led his companions through the village. What is his secret? And how can I help him?