[on the second day of Christmas, megswriting gave to me two acts of kindness, and a Flynn Hale in a pine tree]

The mall had hardly been open for two hours and it was already full to the brim with holiday shoppers. Everywhere you looked, there were lines stretched within and out of shops, people sitting wherever they could, and Christmas decorations lining the ceilings and floors.

In Dale Alcander's opinion, it was a little bit much. She and Mark had come to buy gifts for their friends, they didn't ask to practically storm the Bastille. The two best friends had spent the past few hours weaving their way around massive blockades of people and the peddling kiosk managers, and yet, no dice.

"This is significantly harder than I thought it was going to be," Mark huffed as he swerved around a lady angrily talking into a cell phone.

Dale gave him a sympathetic look, casting a look around the wide hall filled with shops and shoppers. They'd gone shopping to escape the stress surrounding their mission back at Camp Jupiter, and yet they'd somehow found more of it.

Dale and Mark wheeled to a stop near the food court, and Dale had only to look at the Japanese boy at her side for him to read her mind.

Mark rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, wiping his face tiredly with his hand. "How did I know? You can never not go somewhere and get food."

Dale beamed impishly, taking her best friend's hand and dragging him into the food court. "We can always get everyone gift cards for Taco Bell and Panda Express."

"You'd probably appease Tessa with that," Mark figured. "But no."

Dale arched an eyebrow, but in a bell in the near distance snagged her attention. She turned to see a man dressed as Santa standing by one of those Salvation Army stands. He was ringing his bell, smiling at the people passing by.

The people passing him by, however, barely even glanced at him.

Dale tilted her head, watching the scene play out before her. She could practically see the desperation in the man's eyes as he continued with his ringing. At one point, someone walked in Santa's general direction and he lit up, before the person walked away, distracted by something else.

"Mark," Dale grabbed Mark's shirt as he started for a restaurant. "See that man?"

"The one dressed as Santa? Hard not to." Mark noted. "Why?"

"People keep ignoring him. He's just trying to raise some money but no one cares." Dale glanced up at her best friend, who had taken to watch the man dressed as Santa across the food court.

"Well, people do that a lot. Not everyone has the time or the change to give." Mark theorized, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Dale soured at that. "This season is about giving and people can't stop thinking about themselves for one second to help someone else?"

"Well, when you put it that way," Mark nudged her. "Let's go help him out."

Mark started forward, and while Dale would have taken a more strategic approach, she followed after the Japanese boy. The pair approached Santa, who beamed at seeing two people finally giving him the time of day.

"Merry Christmas, kids! Care to donate?" Santa asked, eyes hopeful. "All proceeds go to the children's hospital and animal shelter."

Dale smiled with a nod. "We'd love to."

Mark dug out his spare change, tossing it into the hanging bucket in the stand. He smiled to the old man and stepped back, waiting for Dale.

Dale dug out her wallet, digging out one of the crumpled dollar bills. She tucked it into the bucket and smiled back up at the man.

Santa was beaming. "Thank you so much, kids. Have a happy holiday."

"You too!" Dale called as she and Mark retreated back into the pulpit of the food court. They got in line for a restaurant, reflecting on their charity.

"I feel like Mother Theresa already," Mark held a hand to his heart sarcastically.

Dale socked him in the shoulder. "Shut up, you know that it meant a lot to that guy. Did you see it in his eyes?"

Mark shrugged, and Dale rolled her eyes. They moved forward in the line, and eventually continued on with their shopping, but Dale couldn't stop thinking about that tiny act of kindness. She'd been in a place once in her life where any help from a stranger could make her day. She knew the cruelty of people firsthand, and if she had a way to help someone in need, she'd take it.

~~

Mark had had enough of the shopping. His arms were hurting from all the bags that Dale had forced him to carry, and he was feeling more like a mule than a best friend.

They were just emerging from Macy's back to the parking lot when Mark felt someone's gaze burning into him from nearby. He stopped in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder. What he saw surprised him.

A little kid, about ten or eleven, was huddled behind one of the mall's pillars. He was watching intently, with bright gray eyes. He was wearing sneakers, ratty sweatpants, and a thin jacket that probably wasn't keeping him warm underneath the snow and chills of the night.

However, that wasn't all that Mark noticed. The Celestial bronze knife he was holding glimmered in the evening light, blowing this kid's cover.

"Dale," Mark nudged the daughter of Demeter at his side.

Dale arched an eyebrow, but followed Mark's finger when he pointed. The boy seemed to retreat back into the shadows, obviously frightened.

Mark and Dale locked eyes. Then they started forward.

"D-don't come any closer," The boy warned, holding his knife out.

Mark and Dale instinctively held up their hands in surrender, and Mark was forced to juggle the bags on his arms.

"We aren't going to hurt you," He said softly. "We're like you."

The boy's gray eyes widened. "Y-you are?"

Dale nodded, taking a tentative step forward as if the boy was a spooked animal on the verge of bolting. "My name is Dale, and this is Mark. We're from Camp Half-Blood out east."

"That's where I'm supposed to go. My big brother is there." The boy hedged. "My name's Henry."

"Well, Henry, you look a little cold. How long have you been out here?" Mark noted, kneeling down to the boy's level.

Henry looked down at his holey shoes. "Outside of Macy's or outside in general?"

Mark felt his heart sink. He racked his brain for ideas, and suddenly, one of the bags felt heavier with his realization. Mark rifled through the bags, trying to find the right one.

"What, are you trying to find the gift receipts?" Dale huffed.

"No," Mark murmured. Finally, he saw it. The gift he'd bought himself—a big, fluffy hooded sweatshirt—sat in the largest bag. He pulled it out and watched as Henry's sallow eyes widened.

"I want you to have this," Mark told Henry, handing him the sweatshirt. "It's really warm. It'll keep you toasty until you find a bus."

"I don't have any money," Henry shook his head.

"That's where you're wrong," Dale winked. She dug back into her wallet—how did she still have money? They'd bought so many things—and handed Henry a crisp fifty-dollar bill.

"Can you produce money out of thin air?" Mark wondered incredulously.

Dale fixed him with a look, but returned her gaze to Henry. "This should buy you a ticket or two to get across to Camp Half-Blood. Once you're close, use these," She handed him two drachmas, "to contact camp. They'll send a satyr to meet you halfway and help you back to camp."

Henry looked wide-eyed but nodded. He clutched the blanket and the money to him like they were all made of gold. "Thank you."

Dale smiled. "Us demigods have to help each other out."

Henry smiled timidly as Dale and Mark stood up. They lingered nearby until a nearby bus came by, and with a little encouragement from Dale and Mark, Henry eventually hedged his way on board.

Mark watched until the bus disappeared, a warm feeling in his chest. He glanced down at Dale, who was smirking at him impishly.

"How you feeling, Mother Theresa?"

"Oh, shut up."

But even as Mark and Dale headed back to Camp Jupiter, the chill didn't bother him. The warmth in his soul and the light feeling in his heart helped him all the way through, and he knew that even with the rest of the world whirring by without a care, there'd always be a good soul to stop and help those in need.