"We have a bit of holiday magic in our crumbs. It helps us know things—like where the North Pole is, and how to get there. It's a gingerbread instinct." You open your mouth to protest, but stop. Deep down, you know he's right. Some journeys can't be built out of popsicle sticks and glue. You kneel as they line up at the back door, their frosting glinting in the moonlight. Rex tilts his head, watching curiously. "Thank you for believing in us," the leader says. "We'll never forget it." You watch them march into the snowy night, their tiny footprints sparkling under the Christmas lights until they fade away into the white. A soft warmth fills your chest—sadness and pride all mixed together. You smile and whisper, "Guess teamwork means listening, not just building." Rex barks softly, as if agreeing. You scratch his ears and glance at the cookie crumbs on the counter. Tomorrow, maybe you'll bake another batch—just in case the magic decides to visit again.