Page 52 of The Krampus's First Christmas Gift

Growing up, he’d been taught to terrorise, hunt, gather, move stealthily, and survive. But he’d never been taught how to be a host or how to make his cave cosy.

Krampuses usually moved regularly, leaving little to no trace of their existence. In fact, his grandmother never stayed put for more than a week. And she always slept on the ground. No furs for her. His bed would be seen as a disgusting extravagance in her eyes.

His grandmother would also be repulsed by the decorations. Of course, she’d be even more than repulsed to learn that he’d been spending time with a human. She’d say his behaviour went against the core values of the krampuses.

Still, his cave would be nothing compared to the homes in the city, the kind of places Jasper was used to. Even Kraghol’s bed of furs, which he had always thought to be luxurious, would be basic to Jasper.

No wonder Jasper wanted Kraghol to visit him in the city. Then they could meet there and Jasper could stop coming to Kraghol’s dank cave in the freezing forest in the middle of winter.

His fingers twitched. He wished he knew how to build furniture, like he’d seen through windows in the apartments in Anorra. That would be more comfortable for Jasper. He lookeddown at his hands. But these had never really built anything before.

He turned and looked out over the forest. Darkness had descended a while ago. An owl hooted.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he set out.

He trekked up and over a hill and down the other side. The stars in the night sky twinkled. He stopped by a wide river that had not frozen over. He braced himself, stepped into the icy water, and washed the scent of Jasper from his skin.

After that, he headed in the direction of the krampus gathering. At least the fire would warm him and dry him off. As he approached the bonfire, the scent of smoke grew thicker. The sounds of bells and cries echoed through the trees.

Krampuses always moved so quietly, except when they chose not to. The flames from the massive bonfire licked the skies. Embers danced amongst the stars. Smoke billowed.

His jaw tensed.

Fuck. I hate being here.

But he needed to be here to ensure his sister would not check up on him and see the evidence of Jasper in his cave.

The krampuses danced, bodies flailing and jerking. There were less krampuses than on Bonfire Night. Still, many had gathered. For several moments, he just stared, a heaviness settling in his chest with every passing second.

This is who I am. This is where I belong.

But everything in his body recoiled against the thought. He didn’t want to belong here. He didn’t want to be one of the krampuses. He didn’t want to be a terrifying monster.

He spotted his grandmother, her eyes gleaming red as she circled the dancers. Then she saw Kraghol. Immediately she strode towards him. He straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin, hoping he wasn’t about to be lectured for one of his many failings.

She stopped a pace away. Then, to his shock, she smiled.

“Kraghol! You came. This makes two gatherings between Bonfire Night and Krampus Night.” She nodded. “I am pleased.”

“I… I am just doing my duty, Grandmother,” he stammered.

“Yes. Your duty. I am glad to see you taking it seriously for once.”

He lowered his head.

She laughed. “Now come, Grandson. Let’s dance!”

He followed his grandmother into the mass of krampuses. The heat of the bonfire washed over him and removed any remaining chill from his bones. His grandmother led them to Freya and her mate, Thorsten.

“Look who is here!” his grandmother announced.

“Kraghol!” Freya yelled and smiled. She clapped him on the shoulder.

It was too loud to converse. So they danced. He forced his body to move.

His grandmother and sister were so pleased to have him here with them. Kraghol wished he didn’t hate it so much. For his and their sakes.

But Kraghol just wanted to be sitting with Jasper in his cave, eating a picnic, then retiring to his bed of furs to make love.