The fresh snow crunched under Samuel’s boots as they slowly marched up the hill from the parking lot to Red’s tree farm. Like all other years, Samuels' custom-modified military HMMV was the only vehicle. He had commissioned it before arriving back on Earth with Scarletra. Go figure, having a vehicle he and his three-meter-tall wife could both be in comfortably and operate took some creative engineering on his and several of his old friend's hands. But it was built.

Chirping chickadees filled the air with happy tunes as the little birds flew through the trees overhead, their wing beats muffled by the lazily falling early morning snow. Alongside his comparatively loud footsteps were the near-silent plodding of Scarletra and Sarah. How the massive woman being barefoot made her so quiet was still mind-boggling. Samuel assumed it had something to do with the fur acting as a muffle—but that was just a guess.

Sarah, their oldest, black-furred and half a meter tall, giggled and excitedly tracked the horizon through the scrub and tall trees, waiting for the sight of her friend June and her father's tent to come into view. The little ball of fur wore a simple bright red dress with little candy canes and a faux-furred cowl to cover her ears—not that she needed the cowl for warmth; she just liked the little stars and Christmas ornaments stitched into it.

Scarletra wore a similar bright red dress that clung tightly to her squashy buxom frame. Little depictions of reindeer spread around it, along with a near-insulting amount of gingerbread men and shimmering silver stars. Just as Samuel had guessed when he first built a jumpsuit for her—red was her color. It made her grey fur and its darker, near-black stripes really pop.

She carried little Silfa, their youngest, and the spitting image of her mother on her shoulders. Their fuzz ball gently held Scarletral's silver hair, giggling and watching the birds overhead. The bells attached to her reindeer antler headband jingled each time her head moved.

All three of the lovely ladies in Samuel’s life adored Christmas. No, not just the day, the whole season, more than any other time of the year. But Samuel agreed with them about it being his favorite, so their yearly rituals were not a bother; they were an event to look forward to.

When Scarletra and Samuel first moved to Earth, she took to the holiday like a fish to water. She could not get enough of it; she read, researched, bought gifts, and did everything without prompting. All she needed was to see the lights coming up around town and everyone serving festive drinks, and she was hooked.

She was such a Chrimasphile that the first year, she had bought Samuel the ugly sweater he had on right now. God, it was the gaudiest Christmas sweater Scareltra could find for him. Although, for his sake, she did at least have a funny sense of humor. Instead of traditional decorations, Samuels had sneakily disguised wrenches and other tools.

He adjusted his shoulder, the gifts for Red and his family shifting in the backpack. Another one of the traditions they had ingrained in their holiday routine.

Today was a special day for the Martin clan. They had already decorated the house, wrapped all the presents, gone to see the Green Bay light yesterday, and purchased everything for dinner tonight. The only thing their home was missing at this point was the holiday centerpiece Scarletra could not live without—a tree.

Despite Samuel's argument about not waiting until Christmas Eve to get their tree, his lovely mate wanted to wait until today because decorating it as a family right after dinner was how she wanted it all done, and he stopped arguing that after the first year. Instead of putting it up early, they just kept theirs up late. And now that Sarah had grown up with it for seven years, The little teddy bear would be heartbroken if she did not get to put the tree up before dinner or have her one special serving of eggnog.

Soon, oceans of groomed and man-raised fir trees came into view, snow falling slightly faster around them because they lacked cover from the canopy. The fresh scent of cut trees and the sharp aromatics of the trees filled their lungs as the morning sun made every sow-patted bow glow like fire.

Before Samuel or Scarletra had realized it, Sarah's hand burst forward, following another scent and sound carried to them by the wind. Her little feet carried their happy daughter as quickly as they could.

Neither was concerned about it, knowing exactly where she was going and what she must have caught a whiff of. Red always set up a massive tent in a clearing just around the bend. Inside, he sold the trees from the U-cut and had treats for the little ones in a smorgasbord. But none of that was what Sarah was after; June was up there.

As the rest of the Martin Clan crested the hill, Sarah, June, and her German shepherd Fisk rushed out of the tent, a joyous mix of giggling and barking filling the air. The two young girls carried cookies in hand, with June holding a frisbee in her other.

“Be careful, you two,” Red yelled from inside the tent.

“We will, Uncle Red,” Sarah yelled back before they rounded the corner of the tent and headed to an open snow-covered field.

Scarletra and Samuel were not worried about the two little girls, and Red likely wasn't either. The area around Rhinelander was safe, with few large predators save for a few cougars. But Sarah or Fisk would pick up on any animals nearby well before they were in danger and knew to return to Scarletra if they ran into anything.

A gentle soul or not, Samuel doubted there was an animal on Earth that could keep between Scarletra and her cubs. An angry Grizzly had nothing on a pissed of Varintol.

“Hello, Red,” Scarletra said, moving Silfa from her shoulders to the ground, so the little girl would not bump her head on the lights hanging from the tent's roof.

Red was slumped in a chair, reading a hunting magazine. As usual, a folding table was next to him, and several more were lining the walls. Each was covered in treats, candies, coffee, hot chocolate, and ready-to-drink apple cider. Red had run this U-cut for twenty years and knew how to keep happy customers.

Red scratched at his long red beard and adjusted his heavily muscled frame. He was in his thirties and had rosy cheeks with bright green eyes similar to Samuel, and like Samuel, he was a Midwest boy through and through. Niceties mattered as much as honesty. Being the most well-groomed, not as much.

He set the magazine down when little Silfa ran up and hugged his side, burying her face in his tattered and sap-stained flannel jacket. The little furball took a deep whiff of the smell of lumber and coffee that, according to the Scarletra Red, oozed no matter what he wore.

“Hi, Uncle Red,” Silfa purred, her little arms struggling to reach around his waist.

“Hey there, little reindeer,” Red replied, pulling her into his lap and hugging her back. “you are growing like a weed. What are yah twelve now?”

“I’m almost three,” Silfa giggled, holding up three little fingers.

Their two families were extremely close, namely because their daughters were inseparable. Also, Red and Julia babysat for the Martins, allowing Samuel and Scarletra some much-needed alone time. Scarletra and Samuel did the same for them in return.

“And hello to you two as well,” Red said, looking up from the giggling little Varintol at Samuel and Scarletra, smirking at their over-festive attire. “How has the day been?”

“Not too bad. I hope we aren’t keeping you and June from Julie,” Samuel replied, setting the backpack of the presents down. No words were needed about what was inside the bag. They had been exchanging gifts like this for four years; before they left, Red would have something for them, too.

“Nah, you know she is coming back from Green Bay and won't be back until six,” Red replied, setting Silfa down and standing with a groan. “Want anything to warm up or snack on before I take you to your guy's tree?”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Can I have a cookie?” Silfa asked without missing a beat.

“Of course you can,” Red replied, jostling her silver hair, walking to the tray of gingerbread, and handing her a few gingerbread men that lasted maybe a few seconds in the cub's hands.

“What do you mean our tree?” Scarletra replied, “We haven't even picked one yet.”

Red turned and chuckled, a bit of dryness in his throat, while pouring Scarletra and Samuel some steaming apple cider and stealthily spiking their drinks with a shot of rum.

They all knew it was happening, but he did not open his flask in plain view of Silfa whose focus had already shifted to the collections of coloring books Red had on a small kid-sized table.

They lived in Wisconsin, and it was just the way most things were around here. You rarely meet up with anyone without a beer, a drink, and some small talk. That and only having one would not hurt anyone.

“Come on, you are the only people who want a tree twelve feet and taller,” Red said, handing them the drinks. “So I looked at my older-growth trees and narrowed them down to the most likely one you all want.”

Red was not wrong about that; most houses would not want a tree that large. But their house was built far taller than others, with nearly four-meter ceilings so Scarletra would not have to stoop.

“I suppose that is true,” Scarletra smiled before sipping her drink, slightly shivering from its alcohol.

Red knew Samuel would be driving and knew Scarletra had a far greater tolerance than any human could dream of, so he had given her a generous pour. At Samuel and Scarletra’s wedding, he had seen the woman put away a Cornelius keg alone, leaving everyone else to sample the other eight kegs and booze. At least Shama and his boys did enjoy the drinking games that ensued then.

“Hey, if you all wanna shop around, I won’t tell you yah can’t. But I'm certain I have your tree in the back lot,” Red shrugged.

“We will at least take a look around,” Samuel said, grabbing a saw from the rack next to the tent entrance.

“Suit yourselves,” Red replied, grabbing his coffee and starting toward the fields.

“Silfa, come on. We will color back home; let’s go get a tree,” Scarletra cooed.

The extremely fuzzy Varintol looked between her mother and the books, the little cogs in her brain struggling to choose if she wanted to go. After a few seconds, though, she nodded and jogged over her jingle bells happily chiming before Scarletra scooped her up and licked her daughter's cheek.

Over the next few hours, they traveled up and down the rows upon rows of trees. Screltra painstakingly inspected each tree as if it was a fine work of art–because, for her, it would be the magnum opus for her Christmas decorations.

She smelled them, looked at them from all angles, and had Samuel, Red, and Silfa stand beside them as she imagined taking pictures next to the tree. Along with her trying to think of what decorations could go on the bows.

Samuel had tried to precisely understand what Scarletra wanted in a tree for years. At this point, he had a good idea. She did not want a tree that fits what most Humans wished for. She was after a far fuller, more wild-looking tree.

Likely because it reminded her of the pine and fir-like trees back on Baratin, he was uncertain if that was the reason, but it made her happy, so the exact reason was not unimportant—she would share if she wanted to anyway.

As they went along, Samuel and Red chatted about Christmas, New Year's plans, and the Packer's last game while the ever-passionate scarletra grumbled more frequently as her frustration grew. With each flawed tree she scrutinized, the grumbling and growling grew louder.

At some point, she even asked Samuel and Red their opinions, but only for confirmation of her perceived flaws in the current tree. Ultimately they both knew that's what it was; She would pick the tree she wanted, their opinions be damned.

Eventually, the sun had passed its zenith, and the snow had slowed to a trickle. At that point, Scarletra acquiesced and asked Red to see the tree he had selected for them. He gestured for them to follow with a gentle nod and a sip of his coffee.

He led them toward the far back fields where Red had started his tree farm years ago. Long before he knew how to tend to them properly, so much of the growth back here was taller and did not have as much active tending. At least it did not until Scarletra and Samuel had moved back into town.

Even though Red had started tending them more, he left them tall, whole, and healthy. Only doing enough to Ensure at least a few of them would be to Scarletra’s liking each year.

As they followed Red, Silfa pointed out small animals scurrying up trees and through the snow-covered thicket, calling the squirrels and raccoons cute. Only she and Scarletra could see the animals, leaving Red and Samuel out of the loop. But neither of the men cared. It was a reality they had been used to since living around the sharp-sensed Varintol.

Scarletra likely could hear the older girls and the dog right now, even though they were kilometers away.

A small hillock with lush firs spiraling along it, the path leading through the corkscrew, making the maybe ten-meter tall mound seem larger and coated in piny fur. If this was some idyllic and stereotypical tale from yore, the tree Red was leading them to would be at the hill's peak—but it was not.

Halfway up the path, Red gestured up to a tree off the side. “Here we are. I’m certain you will like this one.”

Scarletra set Silfa down in the snow, the fresh powder nearly reaching her waist. Not that the tundra-adapted Varintol cared. She was not a steppe, mountain, arboreal, or equatorial subspecies, so their little teddy bear was right at home.

As soon as Silfa’s feet were settled, she plopped down, picked up a stick, and doodled on the ice. Making what looked like a stick-figure family. Unlike her older sister, who tried to take everything apart as Samuel did as a kid, Silfa seemed more like Scarletra and wanted to draw.

Scartra handed Samuel her drink and reached in, grabbed the tree trunk, and shook free the snow, letting her get a good look at it. Her eyes went wide as she determined its worth. Samuel and Red shared a knowing glance, with Samuel giving his friend a thumbs-up of appreciation. They knew she liked it, but Scarletra still had to finish the motions of picking the tree.

Once again, she smelled it, ran her hand through the bows, looked at it from all angles, and had Samuel, Red, and Silfa pose beside the tree. Even if Silfa did not understand the little box, her mother was making with her hands.

After going through her thorough litany nearly six times, an amount typically reserved for her carvings, Scarletra nodded, turned to Samuel, and took back her drink. “This one is perfect.”

“I will get to chopping,” Samuel replied.

After another hour, the tree was cut, wrapped, and atop their truck at the bottom of the hill. Red had been paid, and they were all gathered in the tent, waiting for Sarah, June, and Fisk to return.

Scarletra roared a few minutes earlier, telling their explorative tomboy daughter it was time to go, a signal the young Varintol returned only a few moments later. But based on how quiet it was, they knew the three were likely near the frozen-over creek at the far end of the property.

“Here are all of your gifts for the year,” Red said, holding out a box filled with all the leftover food from the stand.

Samuel appreciated the gesture, as it did save them a lot of money. That and buried in the box were several dozen pounds of venison and beef. Lord knew the three women in his home could eat.

“Thank you,” Samuel said, grabbing the box.

“Yeah, it is appreciated,” Scarletra said, pulling Red into a massive hug.

Red returned the gesture with no hesitation. When he and Julia first met Scarletra, they didn't mind her liking hugging so much. People from the Midwest were usually pretty open about that among friends, but at this point, they knew something was wrong if they did not get at least one from the cinnamon roll of a woman.

Shortly after, Sarah and June came running back into the clearing, tossing up snow as they ran. Fisk was right at their heels, the ball clasped in a slobbering mouth. Sarah and June's clothes were covered in mud, snow, and bits of shrubbery. If not for the smiles on their faces, someone might have thought they had been in a fight. But they all knew better.

“Hi, mommy, dad, Uncle Red,” Sarah smiled, brushing her black hair and fur with her claws.

“Hello, misses Martin, Mr. Martin,” June said nearly simultaneously, tying her brown hair back with a hair tie, likely having let it down while playing.

The adults all nodded to them, glad to see their daughters happy and healthy.

“Sarah, say goodbye we have to go get dinner ready,” Scarletra said softly.

Without missing a heartbeat, Sarah turned and hugged Sarah, nuzzling against her best friend. Already starting to show some of the claiming actions Varintol did, growling while holding June.

That shocked no one there, Scarletra having explained that it was just something Varitol did. It was An old instinct from their evolution that was not a cause for concern. June hugged and brushed her friend's fur before wishing her a Merry Christmas.

With all their goodbyes and wishes for a merry Christmas over, the Martins returned to their truck and got ready to head home for the rest of their Christmas Eve rituals. Red, June, and Fisk walked down one of the side roads to their humble little home in the woods, ready to wait for Julie to return from Green Bay, vanishing around the sharp corner at the bottom of the road while Samuel turned the HMMV over, and Scarletra buckled the daughters into their car seats.