The Reindeer Who Was Afraid of Heights
A brave little reindeer named Tumble learns that courage means going forward even when you're scared.
Far beyond the snowy forests and twinkling towns, where the air sparkled like tiny stars, lived a young reindeer named Tumble. Tumble had strong legs and soft brown fur. He could run faster than almost any reindeer in the herd. When the snow was fresh and powdery, Tumble loved to race across it, his hooves making quiet thump-thump sounds as he ran. But there was one thing Tumble did not love. Flying. Every winter, Santa’s reindeer practiced lifting off the ground, soaring high above the clouds, and gliding through the cold night sky. The older reindeer leapt into the air with confidence, bells jingling happily. Tumble stayed on the ground. He looked up at the wide, endless sky and felt his tummy flutter. "It’s too high," he whispered to himself. "What if I fall?" The other reindeer noticed. "Come on, Tumble!" called Frosthoof kindly. "It’s fun once you try," said Spark. Tumble smiled, but his legs felt wobbly. "I’m better at running," he said. "I’ll wait here."
At night, when the North Pole glowed with warm lights and the elves sang carols, Tumble lay in the snow, watching the reindeer practice above him. I wish I weren’t scared, he thought. I want to help too. As Christmas Eve grew closer, Santa grew busier and busier. His list was long, and the presents were piled high. One evening, Santa gathered the reindeer. "Ho ho ho! We have a special delivery this year," Santa said. "A small village sits on top of the Tall Whispering Mountain. The winds are tricky, and the sky is narrow between the peaks." The reindeer murmured quietly. "It will take care and patience," Santa continued. "Not speed or height—but steadiness." Tumble’s ears twitched. Steady… that sounded like him. But then Santa added, "We’ll need every reindeer." Tumble’s heart thumped. Every reindeer… even me?
That night, Tumble couldn’t sleep. He paced the snow, looking up at the stars. "What if I mess up?" he asked the moon. "What if I’m too scared?" The moon said nothing, but it shone softly, just like it always did. Tumble took a deep breath. "I can try," he whispered. On Christmas Eve, the sleigh was ready. Bells sparkled. Presents shimmered. The air buzzed with excitement. When Santa called the reindeer forward, Tumble stepped up slowly. "You ready, little runner?" Santa asked warmly. Tumble nodded, even though his knees shook. The sleigh lifted off the ground. At first, Tumble stayed low—very low. His hooves barely left the air. "That’s okay," Santa said gently. "Go at your own pace."
As they reached the mountain, the wind whooshed and whispered through the peaks. Clouds curled around them like soft blankets. Tumble felt scared. But he also felt… calm. He focused on breathing. He focused on Santa’s steady voice. He focused on each small flap of his wings. Not higher. Not faster. Just forward. The sleigh glided carefully between the mountains. Tumble led the way, sensing the air currents, moving slowly and smoothly. At last, the village appeared below—tiny houses glowing like stars. "We made it!" Santa laughed. "Ho ho ho!" The presents were delivered quietly. Children slept peacefully below.
As they flew home, Tumble realized something amazing. He had flown. Not high. Not fast. But brave. When they landed back at the North Pole, the reindeer cheered. "You did it, Tumble!" they said. Tumble smiled, his heart warm. "I was scared," he admitted. Santa nodded. "Being brave doesn’t mean not being scared," he said kindly. "It means going anyway." From that night on, Tumble still preferred running—but he never doubted himself again. And every Christmas Eve, when the sky was tricky and the path uncertain, Santa smiled and said: "Let Tumble lead the way." 🎄 The End 🎄
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The End