Minja_subota_deda_mraze_kud_te_vode_snezne_staze

One Christmas Eve, Luka spotted a faint, glowing trail of silver dust leading away from the village square. Remembering the song, he put on his warmest boots and followed it. The path didn't lead to a palace of gold or a mountain of toys. Instead, it wound through the quietest streets, stopping at every house where a light was still burning.

As he fell asleep, he could still hear the melody in his head, knowing now that the snowy paths lead exactly where they are needed most: to the heart. minja_subota_deda_mraze_kud_te_vode_snezne_staze

Santa smiled, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. "They lead wherever someone is waiting with hope," he replied. "The paths are not made of snow, Luka. They are made of the kindness people show to one another. I simply follow the glow of that kindness to find my way." One Christmas Eve, Luka spotted a faint, glowing