shadows. “It’s me, Goblin,” the creature stammered, its heart racing. “I—I have something for you

The goblin extended its trembling hands, revealing the oversized slippers. They glowed softly, their magic pulsing like a heartbeat. The old lady’s eyes widened, and for a moment, the forest held its breath.

“Ah,” she said, her voice a melody of frost and starlight. “The Christmas present.”

The goblin nodded. “They were too big for me,” it admitted. “But I thought—they would befit you.”

The old lady stepped into the slippers, and they adjusted to her delicate feet. She stood, her form ethereal, and the forest animals watched in awe. The slippers carried her toward the den’s entrance, where the snowflakes danced in anticipation.

“Thank you, Goblin,” she said, her voice softer than the falling snow. “These slippers hold memories—the laughter of children, the warmth of hearths the goblin was a he as the fox said