Never mind poor red-nosed Rudolph being called names, here’s a reindeer with a really raw deal. This Welsh-language dance-theatre show for children (recommended for ages five to nine) introduces the woefully cold and lonely Carw on Christmas Eve. With no companions, and the lights in the nearby village turned off, he follows a mysterious spark and trots tentatively into a dark forest. Fear not: Carw encounters mild danger but mostly abundant wonder, rendered with carefully calibrated stagecraft and warm performances. If you ever saw this, you might even say it glows.

The script and spellbinding songs are by Casi Wyn, former Welsh-language children’s poet laureate, and based on the 2020 animated short of the same name (the title translates as Dance of the Deer). Wyn narrates and sings, sporting a jolly, Santa-esque pink costume with woolly trim; her storytelling piques the audience’s curiosity and she has the right tone for fairytale suspense. There are folkloric elements in her natural world of a valley-cradle, an awakening forest and an “orchestra of creatures” playing hide and seek.

Osian Meilir dances the role of Carw, with a smudge of brown on his nose and tree-like antlers strapped to his head. Meilir elicits sympathy and evades sentimentality, no matter how forlorn Carw sometimes looks, and he quickly reveals the deer’s inquisitive and playful personality. With deft humour, Sarah “Riz” Golden dances the supporting parts of several creatures including a fellow reindeer, Drych. Upon meeting, the animals share a cute duet, circling each other and matching their movements. Tomás Palmer’s shaggy fringed costumes for the deer are a gift that keeps on giving, superbly suited to the dancers’ range of playful movement.

A 45-minute co-production staged by the artistic directors of National Dance Company Wales (Matthew William Robinson) and Theatr Cymru (Steffan Donnelly), the show finds that sweet spot of presenting a young audience with choreography that demonstrates considerable technique and agility yet includes moves that could be mimicked at home.

Palmer’s sparse set design is partly covered with a white sheet suggesting a layer of fresh snow, and the textures of his flooring and gauze curtains are transformed by Joshie Harriette’s lighting. With Alex Comana’s shivery sound design and Wyn’s often ethereal voice, it all captures the sort of tingle you get from thawing out after playing in the snow.