Page 14 of Merry Cris Moose

But then, something extraordinary happened.

The moose—this enormous, grounded animal—began to move in ways that defied logic. With a graceful bound, it lifted its heavy body into the air, as if the snow beneath its hooves had turned weightless. Keely’s eyes widened as she watched the moose leap into the air, its legs outstretched, and then—it happened again. The moose, impossibly large, seemed to cavort through the field as though gravity had simply lost its grip on it.

It twirled midair with a surprising elegance, its antlers slicing through the air in slow motion, almost as if the world had tilted into a dream. Keely gasped, watching as it bounded in great, joyful leaps, each one higher than the last, until it was practically dancing across the field, the snow swirling beneath it.

She stood frozen in place, captivated by the sight, her rational mind struggling to comprehend what was happening.Moose don’t fly—that was her first thought, but here it was, defying every law of nature as it pranced and twirled in midair, moving with a fluid grace that didn’t belong to a creature of its size.

It circled the company plane once, twice, leaping higher each time, before landing softly back in the snow with barely a sound. For a moment, it stood still, its dark eyes glistening in the afternoon light, watching her with an intelligence that seemed far beyond that of a simple animal.

Keely’s heart pounded in her chest as she took a hesitant step forward, her breath catching in her throat. Was this some kind of trick? An illusion? She shivered, not from the cold but from the unsettling feeling that her world was once again turning upside down, and the truth—whatever it was—was closer than ever to being revealed.

And then, without warning, a localized swirl of snow whipped up around the moose, forming a small cyclone that spiraled upward, circling the massive animal like a vortex. The wind picked up, though it didn’t seem to touch the rest of the landscape—it was concentrated solely around the moose.

Keely’s heart pounded in her chest as she watched, frozen in place, her wide eyes locked on the swirling storm. Snow flew wildly in the air, but despite the chaos, the moose remained eerily calm, as though the storm was a part of it.

Suddenly, the snowstorm stilled, and with one final gust, the wind fell away completely. Keely blinked, her breath catching in her throat.

The moose was gone. Standing in its place, his breath heavy, his dark hair tousled by the wind, was Cris. He was naked, his broad, muscular frame bathed in the soft glow of the sun, his skin flushed from the cold but unaffected by it. She’d been right; he was a shifter.

Cris’s eyes caught hers, and for a split second, they both froze, the air between them thick with shock and something deeper, something raw. His dark eyes, full of intensity, locked onto hers, and Keely’s heart thudded painfully in her chest.

She had just witnessed the impossible. Keely had been pretty sure Cris was a shifter, just not what kind. Now she knew he was a moose shifter, and not just any moose shifter, but one that could fly. Everyone at North Star Toys talked about magic and how it infused everything, and now she knew that the magic was real and was pretty sure that Cris’s boss was a jolly old fat man in a red suit.

It was as if everything began to crowd in on her. She could feel herself going weak in the knees. The last thing she saw as she slowly slid to the ground was Cris’s expression shifting from shock to concern, his lips parting as if to call her name.

The snow cushioned her fall, and as the world faded around her, the only thing that remained in her mind was the image of Cris—and the moose—before it all slipped away into darkness.

Chapter

Seven

CRIS

Cris's heart was heavy as the North Star jet cut through the clear sky, heading back to the North Pole. The weight of the betrayal he'd just uncovered hung over him like a cloud he couldn’t shake. His mind churned with anger and frustration, the irrefutable truth of Jack’s—no… he could never think of him as Jack again. He was Frost, and his treachery played over and over in Cris’s head.

Vanguard Holdings. It all made sense now—Frost had orchestrated everything. He had created that soulless corporation to buy out the best toy companies, turning them into money-making machines devoid of magic, innovation, or wonder. Cris gritted his teeth, the familiar swell of rage bubbling inside him. Frost had betrayed them all, all for the sake of power and wealth. But worse than that, Frost’s plan was not only to make himself rich, but to destroy the heart of Christmas itself.

The North Pole had been Cris’s sanctuary for so long. He’d been entrusted with one of Santa’s most powerful gifts: the ability to fly in his shifted form, allowing him to harness magic and protect the North Pole. Cris had always believed in what they did—keeping the magic of Christmas alive for children and others who believed around the world. Now, the discovery thatFrost—someone he had once considered both a friend and ally—was the mastermind behind all that had been happening tore at his very core.

As the plane began its descent, the familiar snowy landscape of the North Pole coming into view, Cris’s anger intensified. He needed to shake this off before he returned to the workshop. He couldn’t let the others see the storm brewing inside him. Not now. Not when everything was so precariously balanced.

The jet touched down on the snow-covered runway with a soft thud, the magic of the North Pole making the landing feel smooth and gentle despite the turbulence inside his heart. As the plane taxied to a stop, Cris rose from his seat and headed straight for the door. He needed air. He needed freedom.

The cold hit him the moment he stepped outside, but it did little to quell the fire burning inside. Without a second thought, he made his way into the open field by the airstrip, his boots crunching through the snow. The stillness of the place, the untouched beauty of the snowy landscape, was a stark contrast to the turmoil within him.

He knew what he needed to do.

Closing his eyes and called forth his moose. The familiar warmth spread through his body, the shift beginning as the air around him crackled with energy. His muscles rippled, the snow swirling up around him as his form shifted from human to something much larger, much more powerful. In a matter of moments, Cris stood as a massive moose, his antlers stretching high into the night sky, his dark eyes glistening as the transformation completed.

With a snort, he shook his large head, tossing the snow from his antlers as he began to move. Slowly at first, his powerful legs carrying him across the snowy field, the weight of his thoughts slowly lifting with each step. The freedom of his moose formwas intoxicating, a wildness that let him escape the burden of leadership, of responsibility.

As he began to run, his massive hooves thundering across the snow, he felt the weight of his anger and guilt start to slip away. The wind whipped through his fur, and with a leap, he invoked the special magic Santa had granted him—the ability to dance in the air, to fly for short bursts. The snow swirled beneath him as he bounded up, his massive body soaring into the sky with an elegance that defied his size.

He couldn’t fly for long—not like the reindeer—but in these short, exhilarating bursts, he felt weightless, as if he could leave everything behind. The magic of the North Pole surged through him, lifting him higher, the snow swirling in a beautiful, spiraling dance around him. He twirled and cavorted in the sky, feeling the joy and freedom that came with his moose form. For a few moments, there was no betrayal, no anger—only the pure magic of the air and the snow.

He landed gracefully, the snow cushioning his landing, and stood there for a moment, panting softly as the energy of his flight dissipated. The rage that had gnawed at him earlier felt distant now, like a shadow he had left behind in the sky.

But as he began to shift back, something caught his eye.

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