A Trinket Tradition
A middle-grade Christmas fantasy short story set in the Everwolf Chronicles universe
I am equally excited and terrified to introduce you Callum and Thistlepaw and the Everwolf Chronicles world. This festive short story is set after the events of the first book* and sorry not sorry for not providing a whole lot of context.
*Can you read it?** Sorry, I’m still working on it!
**Unless you’re a publisher/agent/editor ;)
I’m a massive fan of festive spin-offs so writing this was a dream. I hope you enjoy it!
Gunnar’s foot was in Callum’s face again.
Callum turned his head so that Gunnar’s big toe was closer to his ear than up his nose, and blearily blinked his eyes open. Gunnar’s small bedroom room came into focus, the surrounding furniture, toys and strewn-about clothes muted by the soft grey light of dawn.
A sharp chill pricked the bits of him that weren’t under the warmth of the blanket. Though thin and ripped in places, the knitted blanket was enough while lying side-by-side with Gunnar in his single bed.
It must have snowed overnight.
Gunnar shifted in his sleep and let out a long, low fart. The smell hit a moment later and Callum coughed, rolling out of bed to hit the cold floorboards.
Thistlepaw came over immediately, filling Callum’s vision with caramel fur; warm rough tongue licking his face as he held up his hands in protest, softly zapping his face with tiny electric shocks. He didn’t think he would ever get used to this: her cute puppy face being the first thing he saw in the morning, always happy to see him.
‘Good morning, girl,’ he said on a laugh, pushing her gently away from his face. She bounded immediately for the door and scratched at it.
‘Alright, alright.’ Callum pushed to his feet and shivered against the cold. The house he used to share with Dr Berith had always been warm, even in the middle of winter. He didn’t miss much about the house in the forest, but he did miss the constant and permeating warmth from dozens of machines and computers.
Not that he wasn’t grateful that he could stay with Gunnar, whose house was small and old and crumbly; and Gunnar’s mother was kind and fed Callum and did his washing. Gratitude pinched Callum’s heart; he would have nowhere to go if it weren’t for the Hoffmans.
Thistlepaw scratched at the door again. Gunnar snorted and blearily opened his eyes.
‘Are you gonna take her out or what?’ he asked sleepily. ‘No more accidents, please.’ He said this as if he didn’t just watch Callum clean them up every single time.
Callum cringed. Thistlepaw was magical, smart, and a fast learner, but she was still just a puppy and there were a couple of times she just hadn’t been able to hold it, and Callum had cleaned up several little poos and wees in the past few weeks.
He pulled on a jumper and his boots and turned the handle of Gunnar’s door. Thistlepaw pushed it all the way open with her nose and darted out of the room. Callum followed her out. The house was quiet, but Mrs Hoffman was always up early so he knew she would be around somewhere.
Outside, the cold morning air hit him like a slap to the face. He shoved his hands under his armpits and danced on the spot. Thistlepaw sniffed around in the bushes that lined one side of the Hoffman house, looking for all the world like it was a warm spring day. Callum supposed when you were covered in fur and also had the power to harness lightning, you probably didn’t feel the cold as much. At least the little snow that had fallen overnight had already melted.
As he waited, shivering, he glanced up and down the street of houses as old and faded as Gunnar’s. There were quite a few people outside, he noted with surprise. They were hanging things on fences and trees - green garlands, small coloured baubles, dried fruits, among other things.
‘Oh wow!’ Gunnar appeared out of nowhere, throwing his arm around Callum and scaring the life out of him. ‘Christmas! I almost forgot it’s Decoration Day Eve.’
Christmas.
Callum knew of the holiday but had never celebrated it. He’d had to listen jealously as the kids of the hunters from the mainland came to stay sometime in January and boast about the foods they had eaten and the presents they had received.
Gunnar continued, ‘We can go looking for decorations today.’
‘Oh… I don’t know,’ Callum said, even though he didn’t really know what that meant.
‘Come onnn, it’ll be fun.’ Gunnar squeezed his shoulders. ‘Thistlepaw needs the walk, anyway. She can explore.’
Thistlepaw straightened from her squat by the bushes and bounded over to Gunnar, tongue out as she smiled, tail wagging madly. Gunnar crouched to wrap his arms around her. ‘Who’s a good girl?’ he said in a baby voice. Then he tilted his head. ‘What’s that, T? You want to go searching for decorations in the forest? Me too. If only your big mean human would let us go.’ Both Gunnar and Thistlepaw looked up at Callum with pleading expressions.
Callum rolled his eyes.
After a breakfast of toast and way too much jam, Callum, Thistlepaw, and Gunnar headed into Wandering Forest, which surrounded the small town of Rafe. They searched for pinecones, winter flowers, sprigs of bushes with perfect leaves. ‘Anything that we can decorate the house with,’ Gunnar explained. ‘No one can afford those fancy decorations from the mainland, so we make do with what the island provides.’
Both Gunnar and Thistlepaw had their noses to the ground, scampering through the underbrush of the forest - Gunnar was literally on all fours.
Callum paused his search to watch Thistlepaw. He often did this - just marvelled at her existence with a kind of wonder and gratitude. But always it had an undercurrent of fear and worry. Though Dr Berith had been lost in the cave after the ordeal with the Gold Coin wolf, something inside Callum knew that he and Thistlepaw weren’t safe just yet, not when the Hunter’s Guild knew about them now.
‘Ah ha!’ Gunnar emerged from the bracken, an extraordinarily large pinecone clutched in one hand. When he saw Callum standing upright, doing not much, he said, ‘Hey. Get looking!’
Callum sighed and lowered his gaze to scan the ground.
‘Why aren’t you enjoying this?’ Gunnar asked.
Callum shrugged. ‘I’m not not enjoying it. It’s just we never did anything like this when I was with Dr Berith. This is your tradition.’
‘Hm…’ Gunnar tapped the tip of the pinecone against his chin. ‘You need to start your own tradition. Something that’s completely yours.’
That wasn’t a bad idea. After all, this was the beginning of Callum’s new life. A life without Dr Berith and the hunters, a life without training to do something he hated, a life with Thistlepaw.
‘What do you think, girl?’ he asked the pup. Her front half was obscured, buried in a thick bush, fluffy bum in the air. ‘What new tradition should we make?’
Thistlepaw’s tail wagged. She gave a short bark, muffled by the thick branches.
‘She’s found something!’ Gunnar cried. ‘Onya, T! At least someone’s still happy with my traditions.’
Thistlepaw didn’t look up from whatever she was pawing at in the ground under the bush. Callum went over and crouched beside her, gently pulling back the round leaves.
A beautiful, multi-coloured rock was nestled among the roots.
‘Whoa,’ breathed Callum. He lifted the rock. It was impossibly smooth, and glittered when he turned it in his hand and it caught the light from the sun. Orange-red and swirled in white. He held it up to Gunnar, who nodded in approval. ‘That’ll be great on the Christmas tree.’
They kept searching, and among the forest’s underbrush, found several more shiny stones in various colours, a few large shells, and even some flowers cut from the stem. It was as if someone had purposely hidden these small things around the forest.
‘Where has it all come from?’ Callum asked as he examined a red flower he had never seen before, detached from whatever plant it had come from.
‘Who cares! This is amazing!’ Gunnar head a green crystal up to the light.
As they walked back to town, Gunnar spoke loudly, brandishing the couple of stones and crystals he had found. A few of the adults they passed just shook their heads. But a couple of small kids lost to their curiosity and came running over, poking and prodding at Callum and Gunnar. Some gave Thistlepaw a pat, which she welcomed with a wagging tail and licks to the face.
‘We found these in the woods,’ Gunnar was boasting.
‘Woooow,’ the kids cooed before being called back by their parents.
Mrs Hoffman was outside the house, wrapping a garland around the front fence. She greeted them cheerfully. She always looked happier when Mr Hoffman was away. Less tired. Less afraid.
After they’d taken their treasures inside, they spent the next hour or so helping Mrs Hoffman decorate the house. Just as it started to get dark - which was early, with winter - they all headed into the town to celebrate the evening of Decoration Day Eve.
Rows of market stalls had been set up down the main street, which was closed to traffic. There was a lot of fresh produce and even more decorations that people had made from natural things around the island. The people in Rafe greeted Thistlepaw happily. After she’d helped with the Silver Coin wolves and the hunters a month ago, they were much more accepting of her. As Callum and Gunnar trailed behind Mrs Hoffman, Callum noticed how she chatted to many of the stall holders, picking up and admiring decorations, but always putting them back without buying any. She looked sad every time she replaced a bauble or other decoration.
‘Let’s got back into the forest tomorrow and look for more decorations,’ Callum said to Gunnar in a low voice.
‘Yeah. Can’t afford any of this stuff.’
‘But for your mum. I think she’d really like that.’
Gunnar brightened at that. ‘Hey, that’s a good idea.’
So the next morning, they ventured back into the forest like before, except this time they had a small crowd of kids following them.
‘We want to find treasures too!’ they said, eyes sparkling.
‘No way,’ Gunnar said, rounding on them. ‘This is me and Callum’s thing. Jigger off.’
‘Gunnar,’ Callum said. ‘Let them come.’ From what he’d seen yesterday, there was plenty to go around.
Gunnar rolled his eyes but he didn’t say anything more, and the kids trailed along behind, chatting happily.
To Callum’s astonishment, even more objects had appeared, almost like everything they’d taken yesterday had been replaced overnight. But no one else thought it strange; they were gleefully plucking fruits and shiny rocks and flowers from beneath leaves and behind boulders and in logs.
Thistlepaw was in her element, happily chasing after the younger kids as they ran around, giggling, her tongue lolling.
Mrs Hoffman was so grateful of the things Callum and Gunnar had brought home. Callum thought he even saw tears in her eyes as she pulled him in for a hug. Callum had never been hugged like this before. He wondered, if he had a mother, if this was what it would feel like.
That afternoon, as Callum let Thistlepaw out to go to the toilet, he was surprised to see what looked like half the town chatting excitedly as they walked in a procession down the street towards the forest. Callum watched them curiously. As a woman with two young children passed, he called out, ‘Excuse me, where is everyone going?’
‘Someone is leaving small gifts in the forest,’ she replied cheerily. ‘We’re all going to find them! It’s been the most wonderful Decoration Day yet!’
Callum felt a little bit sick; something was wrong but couldn’t put his finger on what. Something told him they weren’t supposed to be taking the things left in the forest - that they were put there for a reason. A reason that was specifically not the people of Rafe to find.
That night, as clouds gathered in the sky and Gunnar and Callum were sitting on the floor in front of the fire, Gunnar playing a game of tug-of-war with Thistlepaw and a bit of rope, a scream disturbed the peace. Thistlepaw dropped the rope and flattened her ears against her head, letting out a growl. Lightning crackled up and down her body.
They ran outside. A few neighbours were also standing in their doorways, arms folded against the cold, looking around fearfully.
‘What happened?’ someone called.
A woman across the street and a few houses down said, ‘Something came into my house. An animal of some kind. I don’t know what it was!’
Thistlepaw growled again and Callum looked down the street, following her gaze. He thought he saw a large shadow dart between houses, but it was gone so quickly, he might have imagined it. Could it be the Silver Coin wolves again? Callum really thought they’d seen the last of them. The forest was theirs again, their food source returned… There shouldn’t be a reason for them to return to Rafe.
Callum, Thistlepaw, and Gunnar stayed by the window as the night wore on. Callum couldn’t sleep, anyway. He was uneasy. The bad feeling he’d had all day was building even more. He knew they shouldn’t have touched the things in the forest. But if the Silver Coins had returned, then Callum and Thistlepaw would deal with them again like they did before.
The night outside was quiet. They stayed up until all the lights of the houses in the street had turned off, and the moon lit the few flakes of snow that had started to fall - Gunnar yawning loudly and pointedly every few minutes. But just as Callum was going to call it a night, he heard strange sounds coming from outside - very faintly, but it sounded like growls and crashing. Thistlepaw’s ears perked up at the sound, and she looked this way and that out of the window, but nothing else happened.
They waited.
And they waited.
And they waaaai-ted. Callum yawned.
Gunnar was snoring. Callum was just about to drift off to sleep when low growls startled him back awake. He tapped Gunnar awake, and they stared out of the window without barely daring to breathe. Three large dark shapes prowled to the front gate of the house across the road and sniffed at the forest decorations lining the fence; various pinecones tied with ribbons and shiny stones affixed to sticks. Though Callum couldn’t make out many details, their silhouettes were unmistakable. He tapped Gunnar awake.
‘They’re everwolves,’ Callum whispered in awe.
Indeed, they were three large wolves, thick hairy tails twitching agitatedly as they sniffed and examined the decorations. With a gentleness Callum was surprised by, they each picked up a mouthful of decorations and ran off.
He continued to watch for a few minutes after the wolves had disappeared, hardly daring to move. Then Gunnar let out a breath.
‘I can’t believe it,’ he said. ‘Everwolves! Stealing our decorations. So the Silver Coins are back.’
Callum shook his head. ‘They aren’t Silver Coins. These ones didn’t have long manes, and they collected the trinkets in their mouths. I think they were the ones leaving the decorations in the forest.’
‘But why?’ Gunnar asked.
Callum scratched Thistlepaw behind the ears. ‘I don’t know,’ he said.
‘Should we check the everwolf book?’ Gunnar asked, referring to a guide book on everwolves Callum had found in the Gold Coin cave a few weeks ago.
‘I don’t remember seeing anything about everwolves and decorations,’ Callum said. ‘But let’s check it out anyway.’
The guide book on everwolves was a battered old book, its cover faded and spine coming away from the pages. Callum loved flipping through it, wondering if the species inside were somewhere on the island. After all, Callum had been taught there were only about three species left, yet he had discovered Silver Coins, the Gold Coin, Thistlepaw, and now these decoration wolves. Callum hadn’t been able to identify what kind of everwolf Thistlepaw was, but he promised they’d find out together.
After flipping through the crinkly pages, Callum closed the book and sighed. ‘Nope, nothing here about them.’
‘Hmm,’ said Gunnar. ‘Well - add them in!’
‘But we don’t know anything about them.’
‘But we’ve discovered them! You might as well add to the book.’
Callum opened the book to one of several blank pages at the back and grabbed a pencil. ‘What should we call them?’
‘Thieves,’ Gunnar suggested with a snort.
‘Decoration Wolves? Or how about just Trinkets?’
‘Stealers. Decoration Day Ruiners.’
Callum shook his head and wrote down Trinkets.
‘We have to tell the rest of the town,’ Callum said. ‘If anyone still has the things they found, the everwolves’ll come back for them. We might have made them really angry.’
***
In the morning, Callum, Gunnar, and Thistlepaw went around and knocked on people’s doors, explaining. Some people didn’t believe them - There are barely any everwolves around anymore, they’re going extinct - but most people glumly handed over their decorations.
They rested all the things that had been stolen at the edge of the forest in a big sparkly pile.
‘Well, that’s that,’ said Callum. ‘That should make them happy. Peace restored.’
Callum felt lighter about the whole situation now, and he was also filled with excitement at having discovered a new species of everwolf. He and Gunnar spent the rest of the day playing in the mushy snow, then at night, Callum grabbed the guidebook and a pair of binoculars and headed out to hide where he could see the decorations. He wanted to study the everwolves.
And indeed, the wolves came. Callum noted their dark fur, and that when they opened their mouths to pick up the trinkets, Callum couldn’t see any protruding, pointed teeth. He wondered if that made it easier for them to hold things in their mouths. He also noticed that all the wolves were males, and he made a note that maybe the small trinkets were collected for attracting females.
The next morning dawned bright and clear but very cold. Callum and Gunnar were enjoying a hot drink at a café, Thistlepaw crunching on a carrot beside them, when a commotion started up outside.
The everwolves were in the street. In the middle of the morning.
Now that Callum could see them in the daylight, he noticed lighter splotches of fur along their backs, like dappled sunlight, and that two front fangs had appeared in their mouths. Retractable? He made a mental note to add these to the guide book later.
Callum rushed outside. ‘Who’s still got something?’ he called.
But if anyone was holding onto a trinket, they didn’t give it up. The wolves continued to growl, saliva dripping from their jaws as they prowled around. Two were sniffing around the grocery deliverer on his bike, who was not-so-subtly trying to cover the opening of his basket with his hands.
Callum slowly approached, keeping distance between himself and the growling everwolves. He nudged the grocery deliverer’s hands aside to reveal a glittering white stone. Callum plucked it out of the basket.
The wolves watched Callum carefully as he opened his palm, and offered the stone to the them. ‘Is this what you’re looking for?’
One of the wolves prowled closer, lips still pulled back over its teeth in a growl. Callum was trembling, but he forced himself to stay still as he held out the stone, really hoping he wasn’t about to lose a hand.
The everwolf sniffed at the stone, then - as Callum watched in amazement - retracted its two front pointed teeth to reveal a mouth full of flat teeth, and gently plucked the stone from Callum’s palm. The everwolves ran off towards the forest.
Callum let out a shaky breath. The crowd cheered.
‘Thank you, Callum,’ the café owner said. ‘You’re a regular wolf-whisperer!’
There were a few calls of ‘Wolf-whisperer!’ and Callum blushed with pride and happiness.
Later in the day, Gunnar suggested they go back into the forest. ‘I promise we’re just looking for berries,’ he said with his hands up in surrender.
As they walked around the forest, Callum heard another growl. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as he slowly turned around. The pack of Trinkets were emerging from the forest, five or six of them.
‘Oh no,’ Callum murmured. ‘I thought we returned everything. I thought they were happy!’
Thistlepaw sidled up to him and growled, the little hackles on her back raising and electricity crackling through them, making the hairs on Callum’s arm rise. But one of the wolves let out a soft yip and she quietened, ears perked up in curiosity. Callum glanced at her in surprise.
One of the Trinkets came closer, something in its mouth. It dropped the thing at Callum’s feet before backing away. The look in its eyes was soft. Friendly, almost.
Callum slowly knelt and picked it up: a large pink shell.
‘Thank you,’ Callum said to the Trinket who had dropped it. ‘It’s beautiful.’
The everwolf lowered its head. Then the pack scampered into the forest.
‘Wow,’ said Gunnar, seeing it was safe to emerge from the tree he had hidden behind.
‘Maybe this can be our new tradition,’ said Callum, examining the shell. ‘Everyone loved coming out to find things. What if we all hid presents for each other and then went to find them?’
‘Hey, that’s a great idea!’
And so the new tradition was born. Though they waited until after Trinket wolf breeding season. Just in case.
If you enjoyed this and you’re still after more Christmas short stories, you might enjoy the Australian YA short story I wrote last year, The Great Secret Santa Swap.
I love this peek into the Everwolf world!
What a gorgeous story! Can't wait to read the book.