{St. Nicholas cowers under RUDOLPH I, fire and burning steel shreds splayed across the arctic powder; his red suit torn, seeping blood-damp burgundy to complement the jolly threads. A jagged bone protrudes from his right shin. He doubles over in pain; a cry of agony}

{The sound of jets turbines, unseen in the snow-globe night, spooling down to station-keeping}

{A FLASH of light from the sky illumes the scarred circle of wreckage}

{Just beyond the lit circle, terrible, ravenous sounds approaching through the dark. The horde.}

{From the air, the static squelch of a speaker. Then, booming:}

"Santa. We are here. You were not abandoned."

{Twelve ropes snake down from the dropship}

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2794143&forum_id=3#27204474)