You crouch low behind the couch and creep toward the Christmas village. The gumdrop-hatted cookie is too busy giving a heroic speech to notice you. He stands proudly on the bakery roof, one icing hand raised like a frosting general. "Brothers! Sisters! Someday all gingerbread will be free! Free to crumble where they choose!" You inch closer… closer… closer… and—SNATCH! You catch him mid-sentence! "Eep! The Oven Master strikes again!" he squeaks, kicking his little cookie legs. You hold him gently between your fingers, trying not to laugh. "Nice speech," you say. "But maybe you can tell me why you're trying to run away before the Christmas tree gets knocked over?" The cookie freezes, "We're trying to reach the North Pole," he admits. "We want to see where the magic comes from before it fades!" You blink. "Magic? What magic?" "The one that made us alive!" he says proudly. You stare, amazed—and a little guilty for almost catching him with a candy cane. "Alright," you say finally. "Tell me more about this plan of yours." The cookie looks at you with hopeful icing eyes. "You'll help us?" You nod. "I'll help you."