The Reindeer Who Was Afraid to Fly

In the deepest depths of the snowy forests of the North Pole, where winter sings an eternal lullaby and where the northern lights dance like silk ribbons in the sky, lived a herd of reindeer not quite like the others. They were Santa's reindeer. Their coats gleamed like pearls under the moon, their antlers were adorned with tiny frost crystals, and their hooves quivered with a magical energy that allowed them to travel across the sky in a single night.

Among them, a young reindeer named Frost dreamed more than anything. His coat was an immaculate white, dotted with silver reflections that sparkled at the slightest gleam, and his eyes were two vast pools of winter sky, full of curiosity and hope. Since he was little, he watched, heart pounding, the great reindeer training. He listened to the epic stories of journeys around the world, of the thrill of cutting through clouds, of the joy of seeing children's eyes light up below. His greatest desire was to join the team and hold the reins of the great magical sleigh, alongside Rudolph and his companions.

But Frost hid a heavy secret to bear: he had vertigo. A deep, paralyzing fear of the void. As soon as he climbed the small hill behind the stables to practice a little leap, his heart would start drumming against his ribs, his slender legs would start trembling like autumn leaves, and a cold veil would rise to his head. The clouds, so soft and cottony from afar, seemed like impassable abysses to him. How could he ever travel through the sky if he couldn't even look down without everything spinning? The other reindeer, though kind, didn't always understand.

"Flying is in our blood, Frost!" said Tornado, in an encouraging tone.

But for Frost, that blood seemed frozen with fear. The nights passed, growing colder, and Christmas was fast approaching. The palpable excitement that filled the air – the tinkling of the elves' bells, the smell of gingerbread escaping from the workshop, the hurried whispers concerning the great List – made his sorrow even more acute. His dream seemed as distant as the stars.

One particularly cold and clear night, when the moon was an immense silver disc and every star shone with diamond intensity, Frost isolated himself near the frozen lake. Discouragement had overwhelmed him. He laid his muzzle on his hooves, a small cloudy sigh escaping from his nostrils.

"I'll never be brave enough," he murmured to the silent night.

It was then that something extraordinary happened.

One of the stars, just above him, seemed to detach itself from the celestial vault. It became a streak of silver light, bright and joyful, that descended swirling through the winter sky. Instead of extinguishing as it approached the ground, it slowed down, swirled one last time, and came to rest with infinite delicacy on the tip of his cold muzzle.

It wasn't a ball of fire, but a small soft and vibrant light, that pulsed like a miniature heart. A soothing warmth, similar to that of a candle behind a frozen window, spread throughout his body. And a voice arose, a voice so light that it seemed made of the rustling of piling snowflakes.

"Frost," whispered the star, and his name resonated like a little melody. "Why is your heart so heavy under this sky so light?"

Stunned, Frost barely dared to breathe. "I... I want to fly. Like the others. But I'm afraid. Afraid of falling, afraid of the void, afraid of not measuring up."

The star twinkled brighter, emitting a comforting glow. "Look at me," it said softly. "I travel through the blackest immensity there is, infinite space. I never fall. I entrust myself to the trajectory of my dreams. You don't need wings to fly, little reindeer... only confidence in yourself. Confidence is the true magic. It is the star you carry within you. Breathe on it to make it shine."

With these words, the little star rose, brushed his forehead with a gentle warmth, then went back up to the sky leaving a trail of silver dust that settled on his shoulders like a scarf of courage.

Touched to the depths of his soul, Frost felt a small ember ignite within him. The message wasn't a spell that would chase away fear, but a key. He decided to use it.

The next day, and every day following, Frost began to train, but differently. He no longer sought first to leap, but to breathe. Sitting at the edge of the cliff, he inhaled the crisp air and, exhaling, he imagined blowing on the small ember of confidence inside him, as the star had invited him to do. He learned to listen to the wind, not as a threat, but as music on which he could one day glide. He focused on the feeling of strength in his muscles, on the solidity of the ground under his hooves before considering the sky.

He started with small jumps in place, eyes closed, repeating to himself:

"I am light. I am sure."

Then he opened his eyes, fixed on the horizon and not the void. One day, he managed to run and glide for a few seconds above a pile of snow. His heart beat hard, but it wasn't just from fear; it was also excitement. The fear was still there, a faithful companion, but it no longer held him on a leash. He was learning to move forward with it at his side.

Christmas Eve finally arrived. The atmosphere was electric. The bells were ringing at full peal, the sparkling sleigh was loaded to the brim, and the eight majestic reindeer were already harnessed, impatient. Santa Claus, his beard sparkling with frost, consulted his great list one last time. His benevolent gaze swept over the assembly and stopped on Frost, who stood a little apart, his heart racing.

"Frost," called Santa Claus in a booming but warm voice. "We have a long journey and a full team. But Rudolph tells me you have an explorer's heart and rare determination. Come here."

Trembling in all his limbs, but carried by weeks of breathing and patiently cultivated confidence, Frost stepped forward. Santa Claus fitted him with a special little harness, connected to that of Tornado, the most experienced reindeer.

"You'll fly at my side, for this time. Not to guide, but to learn the sky. Are you ready?"

Frost raised his eyes to the starry immensity. He felt the old fear tickle his hooves, ready to seize him. But he also felt, on his muzzle, the warm memory of the star, and in his chest, the little ember that had become a flame. He took a deep breath, exhaled gently, and confidence radiated within him.

"Yes," he said, in a clear and firm voice.

With a resounding "Ho! Ho! Ho!" Santa Claus launched the sleigh. The reindeer leaped forward. Frost, pushed by the group's momentum and by the strength that finally surged from him, felt the ground disappear beneath his hooves. A lightning vertigo passed through him, and he closed his eyes for a second.

Then he remembered the horizon. He reopened them.

And what he saw took his breath away. He wasn't above a frightening void, but above a sleeping and wonderful world. Cities covered in icing sugar, forests drawing bluish shadows on the snow, frozen rivers like silver ribbons under the moon. The wind wasn't an enemy, but a playmate that caressed his coat. Fear was still present, a little shiver in his antlers, but it was drowned in an ocean of pure joy, wonder and strength.

He was flying. Really.

High above, a star, brighter than the others, blinked gently. Frost knew, deep in his heart, that it was his friend. She hadn't carried him, she had shown him that he had always had within himself the power to rise.

That night, as they cut through the clouds and distributed magic, Frost understood the most precious lesson: courage isn't about no longer being afraid. It's about moving forward despite it, relying on the little light of confidence that one cultivates within oneself, breath after breath. And this confidence, he discovered while watching the stars reflect in the amazed eyes of sleeping children, was the most beautiful and powerful of wings.

And so Frost, the reindeer who had learned to tame his inner sky, found his place among the stars and in the heart of the most magical night of all.

The End

See you tomorrow for the 5th story