'Twas the night before Yuletide, when all through the house, every creature was stirring, yes, even the mouse!
...Or something along those lines. But why were Maw, Paw, the two kids, and even the mouse that no one seemed to be able to catch up at the middle of the night? Well, as with many stories, it started with a scream.
Maw was tending to the ward-log, as was tradition. Walls alone didn't keep out evil, of course. The thick, spice-laden tree trunk poking out of the fireplace crackled comfortingly. The air smelt of cinnamon and pine needles and woodsmoke. In her chair across from the fire, Maw sat with her book. It creaked on its rockers as she turned a page, the book making a soft rustle that almost drowned out an echoing creak from outside. Maw frowned. She leaned back in her chair, drawing out the ensuing creak. Another creak from outside returned the call. It didn't sound quite right. It was too deep; not quite wooden.
She set the book aside, got up from her chair, and crept around two huddled forms by the fireplace to the window. She squinted out, scrubbed away a layer of chill, and peered out again.
In the distance, two glowing eyes stared back.
Normally, this wouldn't be a problem. Things lurked outside all the time. wolves, deer, bears... all sorts of things lived outdoors. That was the point of having a house. To keep everything out when you were trying to sleep. Except the mouse, of course. But these eyes, iridescent moons that hovered amongst a black shadow, hung too low to be the sky, and too high to be anything smaller than a tree.
Animals were not taller than trees.
At first, Maw couldn't process what she was seeing. How were there two moons? Was that some sort of trick of the light? An owl in a tree? A spirit? She didn't scream. Animals were common, and it were out there while she was in here. Plus, the fire was going strong, she'd made sure of that. No evil spirits would dare intrude tonight.
The moons disappeared, replaced by an expanding cavern of jagged ivory, arranged in a distinctly feline pattern that stretched wide in a yawn. Forearm-sized teeth glinted in the flickering light.
That's when she screamed. Walls or not, an animal that could swallow a man whole outclassed the protection of any walls or ward-log superstition.
And so here they all were, staring out the window at a creature that stared back as though watching mice in a grand exhibit.
"Squeak," muttered the actual mouse. It had happily retired from its performing days years ago.
"Stay here," Paw growled to the group. He threw on a pair of sturdy boots and shouldered his way out the door.
The night was frigid. The snow blew in white, puffy mounds up to his knees. The cat... Paw assumed it was a cat, despite its disparaging size... simply watched as he grunted and heaved the door open against the mound of snow that'd blown against it earlier that evening.
He huffed and got his bearings, before kicking up the snow about his legs.
"Go on!" He shouted. "Git!"
As was proper etiquette for feline-kind everywhere, the cat did the exact opposite.
"Ain't nothin' for ya here. Now git!"
The cat continued to not-git.
"Oh fer..."
He kicked more snow at the cat, hoping the sharp movement would scare it off.
The cat simply chirped, letting out the same, deep, half-bored, half-curious creak it had made before. It blinked and stared off into the woods. A silver bell, dangling from red ribbon about it's neck, jingled. It strange, swirling patterns engraved about its surface glowed an eerie winter-blue.
Now, collars on cats are not a strange occurrence (even though most felines would protest this point to Aes Sithe and back), but most would argue that, while a cat the size of a large coniferous is unusual, moreso is it for one to be owned.
Inside, the older of the children let out an excited gasp.
"The Yule Cat!"
She scrambled over a mountain of warm blankets she'd been asleep in and leapt into a coat and boots. They were nearly at the door before their sibling shouted at them,
"Wait! The gift! Don't forget the gift!"
The mouse darted into a dark hole beside the hearth, ensuring it would not be confused with whatever gift they had planned. This was too much hubbub for an old soul like itself to be dealing with, anyway.
The child pivoted on a booted heel, seized a small, round bundle, and dashed out into the snowy night.
"Agatha, Get back here!" Paw barked as the child, heedless of anything but the fluffy kitty looming before her, bounded past him. Paw stumbled after her, but froze when the huge creature growled distant thunder at him. Agatha slowed but continued her approach, tiny parcel held forth.
"For you! Happy Yuletide, Sir Cat!"
The cat locked searchlight eyes onto the child and tucked a tail that could bury a carriage over its front paws. It blinked once, slowly.
Maw and Paw looked on, bewildered, as Agatha stopped in front of the Yule Cat, gift offered high.
It blinked again and, with the looming silence of a tree falling, descended over the brazen child. It touched its nose to the gift, cool wetness snuffling at the parcel, then delicately took the package in its mouth. The package tore as mighty teeth seized it, and a large ball of yarn thumped into the snow. Half-buried, it formed a splash of reds and greens and whites, all the ends and scraps of past projects, collected throughout the year and tied into one strand. The cat's bell jingled, a soft, delicate sound, as it took the yarn in its teeth. Then it pushed its head forward, nearly bowling Agatha over with its forehead.
An acre of fur unfurled as the cat stood up. It chuffed once, letting out a puff of warm air through its nostrils that left Agatha giggling and wiping condensation from her face. When she looked up, the creature was gone, vanished, as though it had never been there.
Paw walked up to her and took her by the hand. His face was pasty white. The two trudged back through the snow, pausing only once as, far away, Agatha heard the soft jingle of a delicate, silver bell.
She smiled and whispered softly the Ancient Words, passed from parent to child, generations upon generations of power invoked in a simple sentence:
"Happy Yuletide to all, and to all, a safe night."