Everything had been running as planned: children struggling to sleep due to the promise of gifts the following morning, elves busing themselves as they finished off the last preparations, and reindeer stuffing their faces while resting before thei...

Everything had been running as planned: children struggling to sleep due to the promise of gifts the following morning, elves busing themselves as they finished off the last preparations, and reindeer stuffing their faces while resting before their annual trip.

Santa Claus had squashed himself down the last chimney of New Zealand, eyes glancing at the pictures hanging on the walls. The word whanau was hung in a frame with a background of family photos – from sunbathing at Ohope beach, hiking in Abel Tasman National Park, climbing Ruapehu, birthdays and Christmases. Santa smiled at the captured memories – the folk of the land were unique in comparison to other countries.

Relaxed, peaceful, and kind.

There was not a child from this nation on the naughty list.

Santa Claus finished the mince tarts and swallowed down the beer provided by the family, scooping up the carrots that he would later feed his reindeer. He took one last look at the tree brimming with presents, decorations hanging from each of the fresh pine branches, and inhaled the inviting smell before turning to leave.

"Samoa next, right?" Grey-haired Santa queried his loyal elf, climbing into the red and white sleigh parked on the rooftop of the family's home. He sat down with a hefty sigh - they had finished their first stop but there were hundreds more to go.

His loyal brown reindeer – Comet, Blitzen, Prancer, Rudolph, Dancer, Donna, - were laid down on the ground, and he tossed a few of his collected carrots to them.

They nickered in response, but none of them made any move to eat them.

"I'm afraid we have a problem, Scott." Black-haired Curtis addressed Santa by his real name, glancing downwards towards the rooftop tiles in failure.

There was a long, tension-building silence.

"What kind of problem, Curtis?" Santa didn't think much of it; Curtis was always over-exaggerating his problems. It was probably just a slight breeze that worried the Elf.

Curtis' cheeks brightened a berry-red as the rest of his body paled. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, as he tried to form a sentence that wouldn't alarm the boss too significantly. His throat constricted with every second that passed.

Hell, wasn't he kidding himself? The boss - despite the cheeriness portrayed in commercials - would be livid to say the least.

"With the reindeer. Sir I'm afraid they're—" A fart broke Curtis' sentence. Comet snorted with humour, but morphed with pain as he tried to get up from his lying position. "—Poisoned from too much pavlova. The cream, precisely. It must be the lactose."

"How did this happen, Curtis? You were trusted to look after them." Santa frowned with anger, hand on his forehead in frustration.

He couldn't believe this was happening. His worst, most unthinkable nightmare was coming true.

"It was Frost. He couldn't do anything with this Summer weather, so he brought a hundred Pavlovas and now they're too sick to move. He returned to the North Pole. We need to find a replacement. The reindeer can't go on."

"Frost!" Santa growled. Santa was livid with Jack Frost – his eyes sparked with enough rage to flood Jack's icehouse, even melt the guy himself. "When I see him—"

"A replacement? What on earth are we going to use as a replacement?"

"We have some dust we can use on a suitable animal – tame, obedient, able to function at night."

They ventured to New Zealand once a year, for decades, but never had they stayed around long enough to look at the wildlife. How were they meant to find a replacement in such a short amount of time?

Christmas was ruined – Santa Claus was sure of it. It was unheard of to lead a sleigh without reindeer, even with the magical dust. Comet, Prancer, Rudolph and the rest were all loyal and reliable... other than today.

Curtis wasn't giving up hope.

They moved the sleigh manually to the street and abandoned the bloated reindeer, heading for the street. Since it was midnight there was nobody in sight in the small town of Bluff. Shops lined the street – with some of their products illuminating against the large window panes.

"A phone! We need to search the web, on a phone." Curtis gasped in surprise at his own idea as his face broke into a large smile.

"Where on earth will we get a phone?"

"In that shop!" The Elf pointed at a Vodafone store, the bright red colouring of the building standing out against the other plain storefronts.

"Do you expect me to break into that store, and steal? Think legally, Curtis." Santa frowned at his right-hand man.

"It's no big deal. You break and enter billions of times a year."

"That's different—" Santa deadpanned before he was abruptly cut off by Curtis.

"Not really." Curtis reasoned with him: "Besides, it's to save Christmas. Do you want to be out of a job, and disappoint the world's children?"

That was it. They soon found themselves scrolling through the latest iPhone, searching for any animal that may fit their replacement description.

Plenty of creatures turned up on the search: Sheep, Kiwi, Kaimanuwa Horse, Pukeko, Kea, and Tuatara to name the top searches.

"Well, would you look at that? There's more sheep than people here, we'll find plenty to lead our sleigh."

"Sheep?" Curtis widened his eyes with laughter, as he hunched over into a fit of giggles.

"Don't discriminate," Santa warned the elf. "It's a quick fix, unless you have any other ideas."

Sheep were in bountiful supply in the region of Bluff. Paddocks littered with sheep surrounded the town, so it wasn't hard to find a few medium-sized fellas to get hitched to the sleigh. Farmers wouldn't notice if a dozen were borrowed for the night.

The problem was: they were as stubborn and shy as a mouse.

"It's not moving!" Curtis exclaimed with frustration, trying to push the animal towards the direction of the sleigh.

"Just give it a tug. Here, sheepy-sheepy." Santa persuaded, trying to get a stray sheep to warm up to him. The white bundle of wool kept moving away.

"You look like an idiot." Curtis laughed.

"Would you like to be put on the naughty list?" The bearded man raised a grey eyebrow, eyes darkening with annoyance at the boy.

"I'm not a child." Retorted the Elf.

Some sheep moved away, others stubbornly grazed. They weren't getting anywhere – the men became frustrated.

"We're running out of time with these useless animals!" Santa exhaled in exasperation.

"Do you have any bright ideas?" Quipped back Curtis.

Santa's feet trudged back to his sleigh in defeat. He couldn't believe he'd ruined Christmas. Not just for himself, but for the millions of children across the world who were hoping to see presents under the tree. Maybe I could sweeten a deal with Father Time, he thought as he racked his brain for other solutions.

Curtis followed behind, towards the sleigh, but not in complete defeat. There had to be some way – Christmas had to happen.

It just couldn't not happen, surely?

It would be all his fault. The short-haired elf couldn't believe that lifting his gaze from the reindeers for one split second meant he'd let Jack Frost get the chance to sneak in and sicken the reindeer. He'd not only humiliated himself, he'd disappointed the world.

With a heavy heart, he fell.

His vision blurred, then doubled as he tried to regain his footing. Mud stained his cheeks, mouth full of grass, and knees of his pants slightly ripped. Another stroke of bad luck. Mrs Claus will be livid with more filthy clothes, he sighed into the earth.

A creature hid in the bushes, mocking his demise.

A long beak, short brown feathers and small but wide eyes.

There was more of them, hidden in the bushes as they stared at him. He felt as if they were silently laughing at him. Quickly, he gathered a few in his arms, and sprinted towards Santa, calling out for him. "I've got the solution to our problem!"

"I'm finished. Christmas is over. We're just going to have to rewind it." Santa didn't look back as he continued to walk.

"I'm serious, Scott! It's a kiwi!"

This caught Santa's attention. He twisted around, eyeing the bundles of brown feathers Curtis held.

"They're quiet, nocturnal, tameable. They're the perfect conclusion to our problem."

"What are you waiting for? Hook them up!" Santa cheered, hope returning to his features – eyes lighting up, colour returning to his cheeks, muscles twitching with the itch to move and finish his job.

They gathered a dozen and using a light lead, they attached them to the sleigh.

"A bird that can't fly?" Santa hurled with joyous laughter.

"But we have the dust for that!"

Sparkly dust flickered over the dozen birds, raising them into the air along with the sleigh. +

"World, here we come!" They cheered.

Christmas was saved.