When I woke up that morning, I knew two beautiful things: it was December first, and it had snowed. You could smell the bite of the air and hear how the ancient radiators were struggling to keep out the chill. But there’s no certain like supernatural-eyes-have-seen-it certain, so I threw off my covers and ran over to the window. When I pushed back the curtains, sure enough, that glorious, glorious white stuff was everywhere.

There was only about six inches of it, but to my joy-addled heart, it looked like twelve.

I grinned.

It was December! And there was snow! At that moment, if you had told me it was the mindless coincidence of an unconcerned world, I would have called you a liar. It was obviously a gift to me.

I spotted a bit of movement off to my left. Someone was out on the grounds, and judging by where they were, they were clearing the snow off the walks.

There was snow! And I didn’t have to shovel it!

Then the person turned their head to glance back at their work, and I saw the shape of a long muzzle.

Not a second had passed before my bare feet had pattered their way across the cold wooden floor, over to my closet.

[https://i.imgur.com/f011ZNa.jpg]

I don’t know if you know this, but snowballs make a very satisfying noise when they hit a wolfman. Kind of like a bouff sound. It’s good I got something from it because Conrad didn’t even look up from his snow shoveling.

“Mera, why don’t you go pick on someone your own size?”

“Iset probably doesn’t like the snow, and Olivia would hex me.”

Bouff.

“So you decided to take on someone who could remove your head if they threw the snowball right?”

“Big talk, wolf-boy. I bet the snow sticks to the fur on your paws.”

Bouff.

Conrad looked down at his hands. “A little bit.” Then he glanced at me. “But not as bad as it sticks to your mittens.”

I held up my bright red, two-digit hands and waggled them. “Pretty cool, huh? They’re nice and warm.”

Conrad went back to shoveling. “No one will ever claim you were overly modest.”

“Want a pair? I can order you some.”

He held up one fluffy hand while he continued shoveling with the other. “Mine are built in.”

Bouff.

“But they aren’t red!”

“They match my outfit.”

“Matching is overrated.”

“Is that why you got that lime green hat?”

“Sorry, but I don’t think it’d fit over your ears.”

Bouff.

“Are you going to keep throwing those at me until I play with you?”

“Awwww, poor little wolf-boy. Am I bullying you?”

He stopped what he was doing, straightened up, and turned to face me. “Nice jacket, zombie-girl.”

“Gray is a classic.”

“You don’t think it’s too subdued?”

“No way! I can wear any accessories I want with this.” I pretended to straighten it like I’d seen Darius straighten his suit coats. “It’s sleek.”

“Is it good at keeping out the snow?”

“I guess? It’s the first time I’ve worn it, but it’s seems pretty warm. Why?”

“Because you’re about to be buried in it.”

For those who are curious, a lycanthrope can clear an obscene amount of distance when they leap at you. Take how far you think they’d be able to jump, then double it.

I had to beg for mercy twice. Conrad claimed he couldn’t understand me because I was laughing too hard the first time. Then he finally let me up.

“Have we learned something from this?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said as I hauled out gobs of snow from the neck of my jacket. “You can’t throw worth crap, so you have to tackle people.”

“You wanted to play. That’s how lycanthropes play.”

“Okay. Watch me. First you pick up a handful of snow…”

Have you ever seen an exasperated wolf? It was worth putting up with the snow down my shirt.

Conrad was pretty lousy when it came to aiming—thank god. Whenever he did manage to get a snowball to hit, those suckers hurt. Eventually, he declared me the winner in the most sarcastic and insulting way possible, then forced me to be magnanimous in victory and help him finish shoveling the walks.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

When we were done, we went back into the mansion via the washroom. A wall of warm steam tried to escape when Conrad opened the door.

“Hurry,” he said, shoving me inside.

He closed the door after himself and turned to tuck the door snake into place.

A familiar voice squeaked out, “Mera-mera!”

It was Kappa. He’d come out from his nest. I waited for him to jump on me, but he didn’t. Instead he stared at me with wide-eyed distress.

“Mera!” he wailed.

“Good morning, Kappa.”

“It’s cold!”

Conrad came forward. “It’s all right, Kappa. She’s fine.”

As I shook off the snow from my hat and mittens, I glanced around, trying to figure out why the room was so warm.

The old fire pit that had been used to heat the laundry water had been replaced with an iron stove over a hundred years ago, but as technology marched on, no one had bothered to replace the stove. That morning someone had lit a fire in its belly. I could feel the heat radiating from it. The steam was coming from the huge pot of water simmering on top.

“No fur, wolfman!”

My eyes darted down to Kappa when I heard the fury in his voice. The tiny, adorable bog-creature was scowling at Conrad. I wished I had my phone so I could take a picture.

Conrad was equally startled by Kappa’s pint-sized rage.

Judging from the wolfman’s reaction, that might have been the first time Kappa had ever gotten mad at him. I took that as a good sign; Kappa wasn’t afraid of him anymore.

“I’m fine,” I insisted. “I had a coat, and I’m warm blooded.”

Kappa turned his eyes to me without bothering to hide his skeptical expression.

I put my coat over the edge of one of the porcelain basins and stooped to pick him up.

“See? I’m warm.”

He let out a screech when his skin touched my wet collar. “Cold!”

“Well, there, yes.”

He put a hand on my nose and scowled at me.

“Okay,” I said, “and there too.”

He continued scowling. Clearly, I was too stupid to be trusted with my own health.

“But my belly’s warm.”

He shoved one of his clammy, webbed feet under my shirt and put it on my stomach. The temperature difference made me gasp. That seemed to satisfy him. Mostly.

“No fur,” he grumbled.

“Yeah. I had better go change into something dry.” I squeezed him, put him back on the floor, and grabbed my winter gear.

“Boots off,” Conrad said.

I stopped long enough to remove my footwear and put them by the door.

“I’ll see you at breakfast,” I called as I left.

I was still in hearing range when Conrad said, “It’s no use glaring at me, Kappa. I didn’t make her go outside. Besides, she was bullying me.”

[https://i.imgur.com/f011ZNa.jpg]

When I walked into the kitchen, Conrad was already there, sipping a warm drink. There was another mug beside him. Igor was grumbling around the counter and working to get some food cooked.

“Is it cocoa?” I asked as I perched myself on the high stool.

“Coffee,” Conrad said.

“Can we add cocoa?”

The volume of Igor’s grumbling rose until we could make out a few words. “Oh, cocoa she says. She needs cocoa.” He blew out his breath with a pfff. “Childish.”

“Traditional!” I said. “This is the first major snow of the year, and it’s December. Besides, it tastes good.”

Igor must not have had an answer for that; he only made a face.

I smiled at him. “Igor, would you like me to make you some cocoa?”

“You wouldn’t know how” was his eventual answer. The man could grump.

“Dude, it’s not that hard. All you do is add hot water.”

I realized I had said something wrong when I felt Conrad’s shoulders shaking from his silent laugh.

Igor rolled his mismatched eyes so far back that I wondered if they would go in a complete circle. “Oh, lord.”

“That’s instant cocoa, Emerra,” Conrad explained. “I doubt we have any of that on hand.”

“Is there any other kind?”

Igor stopped everything and fixed his largest eye on me. “Tell me you’re joking.”

I blinked at him.

He started grumbling inarticulately again as he came toward me. He picked up my mug and casually dumped its contents into the sink.

“Hey!”

Conrad put one of his massive hands on my arm to quiet me.

Igor went back to the stove and pulled down a copper pot. “Do you want any, Conrad?”

“Please. And if it’s not too much trouble, could you make extra? Olivia and the count might like some.”

It was a sign of respect that Igor only glared at Conrad with the smaller of his two eyes. “Oh, why not, as we’re all making fools of ourselves. The children must be indulged—it is December, after all.”

Iset wandered in. I had asked her once why she came into the kitchen since, as a mummy, she couldn’t eat.

“There’s always the company,” she’d said, “and it’s still the heart of the home. It’s nice to be in a warm place where people are being taken care of.”

It seemed somehow fitting that Igor was at the heart of our home. He was always dependable, even if he did murmur a bit.

“Why are we making fools of ourselves today?” Iset asked.

“Apparently hot cocoa is childish,” I explained.

“Oh.” She turned to Igor. “Would it make you feel better to know that hot chocolate was originally thought to be too expensive to waste on children? It was reserved for the adults. Especially members of the upper class.”

Igor pulled the milk from the fridge. “Was that before or after they added several pounds of sugar and the sprinkles?”

Iset said to me, “I take it this is your doing?”

“You have to have cocoa after playing in the snow,” I explained.

“It’s traditional,” Igor said in a distinctly mocking tone.

“So when do we put up Christmas decorations?” I asked.

“Christmas?” Darius said as he entered the room. “Emerra, are you a Christian?”

“Well…no. But I’m an American.”

The vampire offered me one of his faint, closed-lip smiles. “I see. That’s quite an exacting religion you have there, but I suspect your practice isn’t too devout.”

“I’m just saying, around here you don’t have to be Christian to enjoy Christmas.”

One of his dark eyebrows rose. “That’s true.”

“How many Christmas trees do you put up in a place like this? Is it one per floor? Does the biggest one go in the hall?”

“We don’t put up any trees in this place,” Igor said.

“What?”

“Careful now, Igor,” Darius said. “Don’t kill the poor girl.”

I put a hand on my chest to keep the agony contained. “You don’t celebrate Christmas?” I turned, hoping to find an ally. “Conrad?”

“I celebrated it back home.” He shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal, but there were a lot of humans in my town.”

“How can you all sound so blasé?”

The count said, “Well, it’s mostly for children, isn’t it?”

But I was done being called childish for that day.

“No,” I said, “it’s for people who aren’t old and boring.”

Darius blinked and turned to the mummy. “We’ve been called out.”

“Don’t look at me,” Iset said. “It’s not my culture.”

Igor stepped between them and put down two mugs, one in front of me and one in front of Conrad.

“Vasil?” Igor said.

“By the gods, is that real hot chocolate? I haven’t had that in years.”

Igor returned to the stove. “Miss Cole insisted. She doesn’t seem to realize the immaturity of the request. Would you like some?”

“I suppose it’s better than being old and boring.”

By then I had taken my first sip of real cocoa. I let out a groan of pure pleasure. “Oh, Igor! This is so good! You’re amazing.”

He smirked.

“Would you teach me how to make this?”

There was another delayed response: “If I have the time.”

Darius took the mug Igor offered him and leaned back on the counter. “What do you think, Igor? Would you object to a few Christmas trees cluttering up the place?”

“I don’t decorate, Vasil. That is not, and never will be, in my job description.”

“Never?”

“Not unless Mr. Noctis orders it.”

“I’ll do it!” When I realized I was bouncing on my stool, I sat back and tried to look responsible. “I enjoy decorating.”

“I think that Igor raises a very good point, Emerra,” Darius said. “It’s not really us you have to convince.”