Tale 83- The Gift-Giving Angels

 After a week of walking up one of the mountains, the Traveler finally reached a new town, where she was greeted by a kind man who offered her some food. She had completely forgotten to eat, and couldn’t sleep, so she appreciated the respite, the two sitting on a bench and watching as the snow started to fall. Her gaze drifted toward a large cluster of trees, all being decorated and lit by candles, and the man explained that the trees were to guide the angels who brought them presents once a year. Sensing a tale, the Traveler opened her book, ready to write the tale of ‘the Gift-Giving Angels’

‘Once a year, a small village is lit up in thousands of candles and decorated with trees, to guide the angels that fly over it and leave gifts for every resident. They know what each person wants and desires, and leave their gifts in the doorways, where they will receive them when morning comes. Though the angels are seen and cheered for each year, there was one year when only one of them appeared. She had been injured during the flight toward the village, her wing torn, and her partner had to encourage the entire town to light up to provide a beacon and guide her, as her sense of direction would be confused even if her wing healed slightly. Unsure where she had fallen, the angel asked everyone to do their part and save their partner, the entire town lighting up the trees in candles and garlands to help them find their way. Everyone prayed for the angel’s safety, and eventually she arrived, the two giving twice as many presents for the residents that year in gratitude for their help.’

The Traveler finished writing the story, wondering what she might get if she ever received a present. Perhaps she’d be given Sarafelle back? But that was impossible. Trudging through the now freshly fallen snow, she bid the man goodbye, and fixed her hood to hide her teary eyes from anyone who wished to stare. And then, she departed.

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