Dümped

As they walked toward the North Pole, the children told the boys about Gensengs and their abilities.

"I get Jack Frost being at the North Pole, maybe even TomTom—but Merlin?" Greg said.

"Oh no, he did not," Jack Frost muttered. He turned to Greg with a sharp look. "Greg, what did you do?"

Greg frowned in confusion. TomTom winced and took a cautious step back.

"First of all, Christmas is about magic," Merlin interjected. "And I am a magician—the greatest magician to ever live. So, naturally, it makes sense that I would be at the North Pole."

"Christmas miracle magic is different from your kind of magic," Jack Frost argued. "And Zed is the greatest magician."

"Zed isn't real—he's a fictional character!" Merlin snapped, his temper flaring.

The boys continued their heated debate, their voices growing louder. Eventually, the rest of the group lost interest and wandered away, leaving Jack Frost and Merlin to argue alone.

When night fell, they set up camp and rested.

In her tent, Sandra lay awake, thoughts of Jacob weighing on her mind. Was he still alive? Had the Genseng gotten to him? Worry twisted in her chest as exhaustion finally overtook her, and she drifted into sleep.

The scent of food woke her. Outside, breakfast was already prepared—scrambled eggs, roasted rabbit, and a steaming cup of wild tea.

She eyed the tea leaves floating in her cup. They didn't look like anything she had seen before.

"What kind of leaves are these?" Sandra asked.

"Dandelion," Matthew replied.

Sandra couldn't help but wonder what had made them prepare breakfast. Had abandoning them really been the right choice? The thought lingered as she sat in silence, lost in her own doubts.

Just then, a man walked over and sat by the fire.

The moment she saw him, she gasped and bolted into her tent. Did he see me in this? she thought, glancing down at her tank top and shorts. Hurriedly, she threw on a shirt before stepping back outside.

The man was waiting, holding a glass of freshly squeezed juice and a plate of sliced fruit. Without a word, he handed them to her.

Sandra blinked at him. Who is this man feeding my kids and serving me breakfast in bed? Where has he been all my life?

"Sorry if I startled you," he said, his voice carrying a smooth French accent that made her heart melt.

"It's fine," she murmured, suddenly wondering if she had just found her apocalypse husband.

Then, before she could stop herself, she muttered, "Don't get ahead of yourself."

Only when he tilted his head and said, "Pardon?"—still in that devastatingly French accent—did she realize she had spoken aloud.

She quickly shook her head. Get it together, Sandra.

"I'm Samuel. Nice to meet you," the man said. "I was passing by when I saw the children. I decided to help them before I even realized you were with them. I'll take my leave now."

Sandra's stomach twisted. Is he leaving because he thinks I'm lazy and irresponsible? Did I just scare off the perfect man with my slackness?

"At least stay and eat something before you go," she blurted out, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

Samuel hesitated. "I don't eat, uh… eggs or meat."

"You're a vegetarian?" Sandra asked.

"I don't eat vegetables either," Samuel replied. "Only fruit."

He reached into a small bag and pulled out two bananas. After a polite nod, he said his goodbyes again and walked away.

Sandra watched him go, still reeling. A mysterious, helpful, French-accented fruitarian? She sighed. Figures.