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Inside a warmly lit underground den at snowy dawn, Opossum Rose, Opossum Stem, Opossum Twig, and Opossum Mist sit around a low wooden table as a firefly lantern casts a golden glow.
Snow sparkled the day before Christmas. In their cozy den, Rose, Stem, Mist, and Twig planned gifts. “Let’s share cheer,” Rose said. “We’ll each find something,” Stem agreed. Mist grinned, determined.
In a sun-dappled oak grove, Rose places glossy acorns into a woven basket, purple wrapping paper and twine beside her on snowy ground, afternoon light filtering through bare branches.
Rose trotted beneath oaks, nose twitching. She found glossy acorns and a woven basket. “Perfect,” she whispered. She wrapped them with purple paper and twine. “Nutty joy for everyone,” Rose chuckled.
At a frozen riverbank under pale noon sky, an adult male opossum kneels beside a neat pile of smooth sticks, carving a tiny wooden rabbit while finished animal figures rest on shimmering snow.
Stem stacked smooth sticks by the riverbank. “I see shapes inside,” he said. Whittle, scrape, tap—small animals appeared. He polished them with snow. “Wooden friends for my family,” Stem smiled.
In a sheltered winter meadow at golden sunset, Twig crouches among blooming snowflowers, weaving green stems into two bracelets, petals scattering around his smiling face.
Twig skipped through a sheltered meadow. Winter flowers peeked bravely. “Hello, little colors,” he giggled. He braided stems into bracelets. “Blooming bracelets for Mist and Mom,” Twig cheered, twirling happily.
On snow-covered logs deep in the forest, dusk darkening the stormy sky, Mist clings to the slippery wood, eyes narrowed against swirling flakes and roaring wind.
Mist climbed snowy logs, still empty-handed. Clouds thickened and the wind hissed. “I need something special,” she murmured. Flakes whirled into a blinding curtain. The storm pushed hard, but she pressed on.
In a snowstorm, Mist kneels to pick up a tiny gold bell.
She paused beneath a pine to rest. Something tiny winked from the snow. “A bell?” she gasped. Another glimmer chimed ahead. Mist followed a sparkling trail, heart thumping with hope.
Outside the den during swirling midnight snow, Rose holds the door open while Twig and Stem, lanterns raised, peer anxiously into the blizzard, their tracks already vanishing.
Back home, Rose peeked outside anxiously. “Mist is late,” Twig whispered. Stem tightened his scarf. They searched the grove, calling her name. Only swirling snow answered, so they trudged home, worried.
In front of a warmly lit cottage with snow-topped sleigh, night sky glowing, Santa Claus emerges from the chimney, soot-smudged beard sparkling against falling flakes.
The bells led to a cozy house with a sleigh outside. Hooves stamped softly nearby. “Hello?” Mist called. Whoosh! A jolly man popped from the chimney. “I’m Santa,” he boomed, smiling.
Beside the sleigh under starlit night, Santa Claus and Mist fasten jingling bells onto a leather harness while two reindeer watch, their breaths forming clouds in crisp air.
Santa jingled the loose harness. “You found my lost bells!” he laughed. Together they brushed snow, tightened straps, and clicked bells in place. Reindeer snorted happily. “Teamwork saves Christmas,” Santa cheered.
High above snowy forests in the glowing midnight sky, Santa Claus guides the sleigh while Mist grips the rail, four ribboned ornaments dangling from her paw and starlight reflecting on their faces.
From red ribbon, Santa tied four shining ornaments. “A family gift for you,” he said. “Thank you,” Mist breathed. They soared into starry sky. “Our secret ride,” Santa winked, guiding the sleigh.
Inside the den at sunrise, Rose, Twig, and Mist sit around the hearth exchanging an acorn basket, bracelets, and sparkling ornaments, warm firelight illuminating their delighted smiles and wooden animals beside them.
Morning light warmed the den. The door swung open as Mist hopped inside. “Mist!” Rose cried, hugging tight. They shared bracelets, sculptures, acorns, and the sparkling ornaments. “Best gifts ever,” Twig declared.
Evening moonlight spills through the den’s doorway as Mist ladles steaming stew at a rough wooden table; outside, Santa Claus stands in snowy glow, waving with a gentle smile.
That evening, stew steamed and laughter bubbled. Mist glanced outside and saw Santa waving by moonlight. “Ho, ho, ho!” echoed softly. She winked back, keeping their promise. The opossums feasted, feeling merry.