The Bear Who Woke Up for Christmas

'But I want to see the Great Sparkle!' Barnaby would say. 'Bears don't see the Great Sparkle,' Mama explained gently. 'Bears dream of honey and fish. Christmas is for the Awake Animals.' But this year, Barnaby had a plan. He had put a prickly pinecone in his bed to keep him awake. He wiggled. He squirmed. And finally, he crept out of the warm pile of bears.

The cave mouth was covered in snow. Barnaby pushed with his small black nose. *Poof!* The world outside was very bright. It was also very cold. 'Brrr,' said Barnaby. The forest looked different. The trees had no leaves, but they wore white coats. The river wasn't rushing; it was still and shiny. 'Hello?' whispered Barnaby. A red squirrel popped his head out of a hole. 'A bear!' he squeaked. 'You are supposed to be asleep! You'll miss spring!'

'I don't want spring,' said Barnaby. 'I want to see the Great Sparkle. Do you know where it is?' The squirrel giggled. 'The Sparkle isn't a *place*, silly bear. It's everywhere. Follow the sound of the bells.' Barnaby walked on. His paws made deep, soft holes in the snow. *Plod, plod, plod.* He met a Deer with antlers like tree branches. 'Go back to sleep, little one,' said the Deer. 'The night is long.'

'But I want to see the Great Sparkle,' said Barnaby. The Deer smiled a slow, misty smile. 'Then look for the kindness in the dark.' Barnaby didn't understand. He was getting tired. His eyelids felt heavy. The cold was nipping at his nose. Maybe Mama was right. Maybe bears weren't meant for winter. He curled up under a pine tree, ready to give up. Then he heard it. *Jingle… jingle…* And he saw it. A light.

Not the sun. Not the moon. A warm, golden light coming from a small cottage at the edge of the woods. Barnaby crept closer. He peeked through the window. Inside, there was a fire crackling. There was a tree growing *inside* the house, covered in shining lights. And there were little bears (no, wait, those were children) sitting on a rug. An old woman was handing them mugs of steam. She was smiling. The children were smiling.

Barnaby felt warmth radiate through the glass. It wasn't just the fire. It was the feeling of them being together. 'Oh,' Barnaby whispered. 'It's not a star. It's a feeling.' Just then, the door opened. Barnaby froze. The old woman stepped out. She didn't look scared of a bear cub. She looked like she had been expecting him. 'You must be the Awake Bear,' she said softly.

She placed a small, round object on the snow. It was a cookie. It smelled like honey and ginger and warm hugs. 'Merry Christmas, little one,' she whispered. Barnaby ate the cookie in one happy bite. It was better than salmon. It was better than blueberries. It tasted like magic. He looked up at the sky. The clouds parted, and for one second, he saw a sleigh fly across the moon. *Ho, ho, ho!*

Barnaby yawned. A huge, jaw-cracking yawn. He had seen the Great Sparkle. It was the lights on the tree, the kindness of the woman, and the taste of the cookie. He plodded back to the cave. He crawled over Papa, snuggled under Mama, and removed the prickly pinecone. 'Did you see it?' dreamt his sister, twitching in her sleep. 'Yes,' Barnaby whispered, closing his eyes. 'It was beautiful.' And then, satisfied and warm, the Awake Bear finally fell asleep.