A short World of Warcraft story by ZAM user matrigs.

Slowly, oh so slowly, after countless map-checks and beating back of starving wolves, Atnas came upon Astranaar with barely the strength to beg refuge. There were no emergency supplies to be had, but the weather had slackened just enough to open a window for the desperate goblin to make for the Barrens. Unwisely, the for-hire mail carrier sampled several Giant Eggnogs before continuing on and managed to spill a flagon or two into his bag of mail brought in from the elements.

Mercifully, the weather improved somewhat as he passed Fallen Sky Lake into the Barren a couple days later. Atnas made wonderful time even though, amazingly, the snow continued to fall as he drove into the Crossroads. A skeleton crew there warned him to head back as the raptors were as savage as they’ve ever seen them, but the haunting image of that wasted Darkshore village meant only a ticking clock to Atnas. On he went, certain his prayers had a play in the slop of frozen snow and mud slowing down the screeching raptors that constantly hounded his sleigh. The small hut on a seemingly smaller plot of land before cresting the hill down into Ratchet meant Atnas had reached his other “side” delivery; a box of baubles for a disagreeable troll family by the name of Rooge.

“Two minutes and no more” he swore "and then all speed to Ratchet…they must have healing salves of some sort for those lost elves to get by on!”

A young troll boy greeted the deliverer with a snarl. He had been practicing these lately and with the holiday coming knew that one stray goblin victim wouldn’t put him on the Great-Father's bad side.

“Oy! What kind of fisherman barks at a package this time of year” returned the smiling goblin, handing it to Schuh, who was, actually as well-mannered as troll children get these days. Then the mail express was gone, down over the hill into Rachet. Saddened that he hadn’t a reply from the letter he sent to the Great-Father, the child turned to take the box back into their hut for further inspection…and saw a letter stuck underneath his package, both smelling of Eggnog.

“Great-Papa” is what the little boy read and dropped the package almost in the same instant. Tearing open the letter and certain his Flats Blood Racer was included, his hopes were dashed. A letter it was and only that, reading:

Dear Papa Winter,

I love you because you made me happy for Winter Veil last year. Since I’m already happy this year could I please just have a doll.

Love, Beth