Long ago, before sleighs flew and chimneys mattered, winter was a quiet hush — beautiful, but barren. Snow blanketed the world in white, and though it sparkled, it did not sing.
Santa Claus, then just a wandering gift‑giver with a frostbitten nose and a sack of hope, trudged through the silence each year. He loved the season, but wished for color — something to bloom in the cold, something to remind the world that warmth could still grow.
One Christmas Eve, he stumbled upon a dragon curled in a drift of snow, her scales shedding like petals. Where they fell, red poinsettia blossoms sprouted — vivid, veined, and defiant against the frost. Her name was Bloomwinter, and she was the last of her kind.
Santa knelt beside her, not to tame, but to thank. “Your colors,” he whispered, “are what winter’s been missing.”
Bloomwinter blinked her bright green eyes appreciatively and bonded with Santa Claus in a way that only dragons can. “Allow me to travel with you, and I will bloom wherever you go. Crimson for courage. Ivory for kindness. Let the world know we walk together.”
And so they travel together. To show solidarity, Santa stitched a coat from Bloomwinter’s shed scales, lined his hat with frost‑fringe, and painted his sleigh in poinsettia red. Now Bloomwinter flies behind his sleigh, her breath warming the air just enough for her petals to take root.
Wherever snow falls and poinsettias grow, remember the bond — and why Santa wears red and white.
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