Two kindred spirits sit in front of an open flame among the dark woods of the Hinterland Wastes. It was where Winterland's magic worked its most cruel and unusual wonders. All manners of beasts roamed the void-gaps between worlds within the underside of the galaxy, and the ones that made their way into the Wastes were only dregs of what lay beyond.

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Fortunately for most of the dreaming occupants, such beasts were far more interested in collapsing suns and void behemoths to care about Winterland.

 

The dregs, however, are beguiled by Winterland's warmth. The charms and festivities taste something akin to a parent's home-made meal to us.

 

They prowl the edges of this snow-globe of a world and slither their way in. But Winterland was not made with such cheap defences! The price for entry is to have all strength changed. Things that are malevolent and savage are made in a likeness far more appropriate for the festive season. . .

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With a hood up and a charcoal-coloured black bandana wound tightly across his forehead, the man with a peculiar name speaks up. '450! Take it or leave it.'

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The second man says, 'Eh? What's that you say, Ser?'

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'Don't play me around kid, 450 for the lot — and tell you what. I'll throw in a little extra if you help make a show of it when we're back.' Ser's rogue, gravelly voice reeks of jeer, his usual wink and childish play coming out to get a rise from his companion. 'Make me out to be the Big Hero, kids'll love it. Plus I'm tired of you bringing back the good stuff while I play second fiddle! Ser deserves some appreciation every now and then.'

 

Dash laughs and shakes his head in response. 'Hablar por los codos, eh?' He pulls out a large rifle (which looks more like a cannon), engraved with swirling patterns that branch off into symbols of fragile snowflakes. The man loads a heavy-duty bauble into it and shoves it down with a sharpened piece of candy cane. Once more, he shakes his head. 'And kid? Really, loco? You and I both look the same age.'

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'Looks can be deceiving. I've been around the block a few times, y’see.'

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'How about you put your money where your mouth is, tin-can, if you really want this haul so bad?' 

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Dash takes aim at Ser, bearing both hands on the festive rifle, its trench barrel aiming right down the line towards Ser and the encroaching darkness of the Wastes behind him. Ser doesn't move (much). With a swagger that looks to size Dash up, he slyly places a hand and the golden pistol tucked into this belt. Kids’ drawings look etched into its wooden grip.

 

'You gonna' count me down, sonny boy?'

 

'Three,' Dash says — and sparks his rifle wick.

 

In two whip-quick seconds, Ser spins around — but he's a step too late! His pistol catches directly in the jaw of a terrible beast. Its covered in hues of oily purple, with something that looks like bones sticking out of its back and half-formed crystalised tufts of fur across its reflective skin. The beast rises to its full height, with Ser dangling from its jaw as he holds tight to his pistol. In full view, Dash sees it as a terribly hunched rabbit, with a set of six glistening kaleidoscope eyes.

 

Ser lets loose his rounds, but they make little way through the beast’s mouth before the gun is sawn off by its two giant buck-teeth. Ser recoils back with a damn! and rolls towards Dash, whose cannon fires directly into the beast’s eyes, shattering one into a golden array of light and splintering two others.

 

After a moment, the monster rears back its head and stares down the two rogue hunters. With a snivel and a roar, it goes to leap forward — before a wicked boom rocks the wastes from dust to ash.

 

The beast, exploded from its head up, stands shocked — and defeated.

 

Ser holds out a detonator with a freshly pressed button in his wounded gun hand and laughs. 'Guess that one goes to me, Sundance Kid.'

 

Dash looks in disbelief to the beast, and then to his rifle, and back to Ser. 'Agh! When did you slip that in? You mess with my ammo?!' He drops the rifle and then throws his arms into the air. 'Didn't your viejos ever tell you not to mess with another man's gun, eh? Ain't that against the rules?'

 

'Never had any of those, parents or rules — so couldn't say.'

 

It takes a few moments for Dash, but as he simmers his rage, it turns into delight. He braces with a smile. 'Tin Man, you got some big balls. This how you lasted so long, eh?'

 

The two look upon the defeated Monster before them, as its strange and unnatural flesh starts to reshape.

 

'I'll give you the lesson sometime. Now for the haul, brother. Come on help me up — I've got loot to deliver, hehe.'

 

Over the course of a few minutes, the beast's body crystalises and cracks. The two men pulled out their Stockings of Holding and began to pile in the shards of the beast into them. The shards, slowly but surely, turn into sweet candies.

 

'Now this — this is the good stuff,' Ser says with a grin that takes up most of his face.

 

---

 

'So tell me, Tin Man. How you feel, being here? After what happened?'

 

'Oh, it ain't so bad. Things seem to find a way of sorting themselves out here in Winterland. Probably was a good time for me to exit stage-left anyway. Heh. And I always been a fan of Christmas, so visiting once in a while feels pretty good!'

 

Dash nods solemnly and gazes out to the faint lights of the town. Their reindeer steads dig into the trees to lick out the sweet sap that was starting to seep. 'Your brother, he's doing good. I don't get the ins-and-outs of this ensueño—er dream-land, I guess. But he, the Chief and I — we’re cleanin’ up pretty good out there.'

 

'Is that so?' Ser takes an uncharacteristically long pause. 'Well, not like that's my real Brother. Though the sentiment is nice, I’ll give you that.'

 

Silence.

 

'What would you do if you could see them?' Ser says.

 

'Who?'

 

'Ones you've lost.'

 

Dash pets down his reindeer as it grunts towards a candied apple tree. Later, Dash says beneath his breath.

 

Then he thinks a while.

 

'I'd ask them what they could see, from up there. Ask them which stars they're watching me from. Ask them how beautiful it all is, to see it all from afar.'

Ser looks on again to the town. The lights and people that weave in and out of there. The connections between generations, the gaps, the abundance.

 

The two sit upon their reindeers and watch on. The wind blows flakes of snow out from behind them, as their enchanted clothes keep them warm in all the cold. The warm orange hue and the bright gold centre of the town sings of something beyond joy. Something more akin to another chance.

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The two men think about their lives, what they lost, what they gained, where they've landed.

 

Soon, they'll go back, pass out their loot among Tarlog Hall and begin the festivities.

 

But for now, they will watch, and dream a little longer.