Elf Bizness

Somewhere pretending to be in the Norff Pole, in the chaos ob another mail room, the elbes are hard at work.

Baxter—wearing his tallest elf hat—stood tall behind da workbench, paws perched on a mysterious box dat absolutely rattled when shaken.

“Dis one’s delicate,” he said berry seriously. “Could be joy. Could be socks. Could be both.”

He tugged da twine, tested da box, and nodded wiff approval. The ornament swayed. Dis elf shift was going excellently.

While some rats stapled and sorted and issued warnings, the elbes handled the behind-the-scenes magic—packing surprises, checking lists, and making sure eberyfing felt just right.

Baxter peeked over da edge ob da table and smiled.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Next box.”