On top of Mount Crumpit, Grinch yanked open the Whos’ pantry door. Presents flew into his giant red sack.
Wrapped gifts tumbled into his sack—every last one. He grinned and let out a low, rumbling laugh.
The laugh echoed off the cold stone walls. He heaved the full sack onto his sleigh.
He yanked the reindeer cords. The sleigh didn’t budge. A tiny Who in a winter hat marched up.
The tiny Who tied the ribbon around the sleigh’s handle. It gleamed pink in the moonlight.
Grinch tugged the reins again. Nothing. He stomped his foot. The tiny Who stepped forward.
The tiny Who pressed the ribbon into Grinch’s palm. “Merry Christmas,” the little Who whispered.
Then the little Who skipped back toward Whoville. Grinch stared at the ribbon in his green hand.
Grinch dragged the sleigh back down the mountain. His heavy boots crunching on frost.
He reached the square. The tiny Who stood by a bare tree, humming a soft Christmas tune.
Grinch dropped to his knees and pulled presents from the sack, stacking them under the branches.
The first bell tolled. The little Who leaned close and whispered, “You’re our friend now.”
Grinch’s lips twitched into the smallest smile. Snow fell softly against the warm glowing windows.
He sat beside the tiny Who. Together, they listened to the bells ring out over Whoville.