Naskital watched, happily indulgent, as the various Gembound chose their gifts. Here and there he offered a word of praise, or a coo of approval.

To the thanks that he got, he offered gentle smiles.

When the last of the Gembound had departed, he found himself in the quiet. A light snow had again begun to fall, and he lifted his palm to catch a flake in his rubbery hand, before peering toward the ceiling. The caribou, gathered around, watched him expectantly; he noticed that one or two were missing--and one of the hares, as well--but ahh well. A few always chose to stay behind.

"Well, it seems our way out's missing," he murmured--"as I'd feared."

He turned, and quietly called over the beasts, who came to him; he loaded up what gifts had not been taken, again securing them to the sled. When the caribou were harnessed back to the sleigh, the food carefully packed away, and the hares and ptarmigans firmly settled in its seats, at last did Naskital slot in the crystals that had been brought to him.

The stranger took his seat, wrapping himself in thick cloth, as a light began to spread from the crystals. It flared up--blinding bright--and filled all of Pisces with its glory; and once it faded, only an empty spot of snow and rubble remained, as if Naskital had never been there at all.

Perhaps, another year, he would return.