I am slipping in and out of dreams and reality. Or maybe dreams and nightmares. Nightmares that were reality.

I find myself alternating between a large, comfortable bed and the cold dirt floor of the underground lair. Bleeding in that torn, thin gown. Sometimes I see Remme growling with horns, other times he is worried and wrapping bandages around my legs. The king spitting on my face. The ice that impales him like blades. His blood hitting my face. A tree farm out the window. The dark, dirt floors that are covered in Remme’s blood. The beheaded elves’ blood on claws. So much blood.

At some point, I find myself alone in a large room. I swing my legs out of a bed and try to stand. I crumple down to the floor in pain.

I eventually get to a stand and precariously walk over to an expansive window. I find myself staring at a sweeping vista of so many mountains. My breath pauses. I can't see any other houses or towns. Just miles of snow capped mountains under starlight. I can’t stop staring. I fall back into sleep next to the window.

I wake again in this silent room, back in the bed. Despite the fact I keep finding myself in the same bed, almost in a constant reset as would be in a dream, something tells me this is reality. My senses are more acute and time is more linear. I smell soft linens and feel the flannel of my gown. I slowly get to my feet.

The sun is shining on the mountain peaks, so brilliantly it hurts my eyes. I turn away and decide to walk down the quiet, dark hallway beyond the bedroom door.

I walk down stairs into a large seating area. The view from the windows here is a different direction but still just miles and milles of mountains. My mind can not comprehend where I am. I am no longer in an underground lair but also not at the Christmas tree farm as I was expecting. It is a mountain castle, built directly in the stone as many of the walls are raw and cool to the touch. I sit down in front of the fire roaring in the hearth. Someone must have been here not too long ago.

While I want to believe I am safe, if I am in Remme’s house then he lied to me about being a tree farmer. If he was honest, then where am I? My mind is slowly putting everything together, not the pace I usually think and it pains me to come to the obvious conclusion that Remme lied. He also lied the horns and claws being just for a Krampusnacht performance. I take a deep breath, reminding myself I am alive.

I stare at the ceiling above. Ornate wooden gables decorate the ceiling of stone. A whimsical character to the otherwise crude structure to this house. A sweet lie covering the truth.

I can only question every good intention now. While he did rescue me from the elves, to what end? I remember the fables the waiter wrapped Gabe and I in - the questionable intentions of the Krampus.

Gabe. Reality crashes down on me. I wonder what they are all thinking happened, or what they were told happened. Suddenly, the silence seems overbearing. While I am no longer in chains, I see no way of returning back to my life, to the town. I have a horrible feeling that maybe what becomes of me here might be worse than if I ended up being a solstice sacrifice for the Alps.

My hunger wakes me from sleep. Once again, I am in the bed that I always start in, unsure how I got here. Last thing I remember was sitting in front of the fireplace.

It is night now. There is a cold stew on the nightstand next to me. I stare at the food as if it has offended me.

Behind it, I noticed the fluorescent colors of my backpack. The bag clash with the house in so many ways, more real than anything I have seen in the past few days. As I eat the food in front of me, not caring if it is poisoned or drugged, I look through my bag. Aside from being dirty and scuffed on the outside, everything is exactly where it was when I searched through the contents at the waterfall. The apple is slightly bruised.

In the bottom, I find the yarn. At least if I am stuck here, I can make a sweater.

After I finish eating, the silence oppressed me. I need something I can feel and hear. I decide I’ll take a bath.

As I turn on hot water tap and listen to water gurgling into the tub, I pour a liquid smelling of lavender. I inhale the scent, close my eyes and breath it in. It's the first company I have had here.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

As I take off the gown, I see someone obviously has cleaned me. It makes me shutter with the thought of being so vulnerable, so not me.

To reclaim myself I decide that I might as well enjoy the luxuries of this manor while I wait for the owner to make their presence known. I pursue the bookshelf in the bedroom and find something in English that sounds like a fantasy novel, albeit one I have never heard of, and relax into the bath.

I read until the water is cold. Wrapped in a blanket, I return to the bedroom to find clothes. The dresser is only full of flannel nightgowns of every pattern and color. Some more revealing than others but many covered in lace. As if someone raided a 90’s nightgown factory. Reluctantly, I put on the least frilly one. I can’t find underwear anywhere but since I have not seen a soul yet I decide it does not matter.

I am lying back in bed reading when I hear movement downstairs. Curious of my captor, I sneak down the hall and down the stairs towards the sitting room. I see the back of a figure stoking a fire back to life. Once aglow again, the body collapses back into the couch but not before I can see they are hurt, limping a bit.

I can not see much from my spot so I try to silently take a step down the stairs. Still can hardly see the person but I can tell they turned their head back towards the stairs. Curses I mumble to myself. I know I didn’t make a sound.

The figure turns their head back to the fireplace and picks up a mug. I made the decision to stay still for a few minutes before moving.

“What keeps you up, little ice storm?” I am so shocked by the rumbling voice I somehow know so well, I lurch forward and ungracefully catch myself on the railing. “I know you are there”

I let my heart calm then I descend the stairs, slowly, but stop on the landing. Fear courses through me but at the same time relief that it is Remme sitting there, and not some mountain demon. I want to yell about keeping me captive but the smell of chocolate catches me first. Remme turns to look at me, one arm over the back of the couch and the other holding a mug of cocoa. With whip cream on top.

“You lied to me. You told me you had a tree farm.”

He pauses. “That is what you are upset about?” His eyebrows wrinkle with perplexity though touched with humor. I do not know how to describe the importance of him keeping this whimsical, Christmas romance novel story on track. Largely for my own sanity, to grasp something amidst all the dreams I fade in and out of. To grasp something I used to know true. To tell me not everything I have known in the word has changed. From my fear of learning who I am.

“Why are you keeping me here? I know you are not sacrificing me on the solstice like the elves, but why?” Or at least I am hoping he is not as morbid as the elves.

“No, you are not a sacrifice to the gods,” he laughs. “But you once told me you were a naughty girl and I needed to do something with you. After you became a courtesan to the alp king, how I do not know, I figured I should lock you up in my manor so you couldn't make any more trouble.” His grin was so wide, laughter in those dark eyes.

This does not amuse me.

His face turns back towards the fire. “The fact I prevented the alps from having their solstice sacrifice has brought a lot of unrest to the alp kingdoms. I have not been around much as I have been controlling their rebellions. They have been taking bigger risks, attacking women closer to town. This is completely against the agreement that has been in place for 200 years but they are bloodthirsty. It has been 50 years since any of their kings had a sacrifice. Just tonight…” He chokes on his words, as if he can’t believe what happened.

I found myself walking a bit closer. The light from the fire reveals bleeding wounds through his jacket.

“Aloysius and I saved a woman from their capture. She was still close to town so Aloysius charmed her to think he saved her from a wolf attack…” he trailed off and laughed softly to himself. “Anyways, once he gets back from her bed, a reward she gave him for being her hero, this morning we will have a meeting about the borders."

He continues, as if more of an excuse to himself than me. "It’s not safe for you to travel back to human lands right now. They will smell you the moment you leave this place. They can already smell that I brought you here. If we close the borders you won't be able to return until we lift them again.”

At this point I found that I was standing on the opposite side of the couch from him, my hands gripping the arm of the chair. I was so upset at his indifference to me being stuck here, that my life could wait for the magical upheaval to calm down. While a few days ago I would have romanticized the opportunity to live in a magical Christmas tree farmer’s mountain castle, now that I was actually in this situation, it no longer was dreamy.

At the same time, I realize there is so much I do not know. The things he so casually mentioned just seconds ago conflict with the world I live in. Used to live in. It also unnerves me that he is ignoring his own injuries, trying to justify not good decisions or just ignoring the consequences of his decisions. Feelings keep piling up until I am overwhelmed, and everything in my mind tumbles out.

“There are multiple alp kingdoms? Why can they smell me? What is with you mountain folk and smelling people? And borders, what borders? Do you live in another country? How do you have control of the borders? Who is the ‘we’ you speak about? Why are you not bandaging up your wounds? There is blood all over the couch.” I now stare into those dark, tired eyes. I am saying too much, asking too much, but I don’t care. “Who are you? And… and… I still can’t believe I let you convince me you had a Christmas tree farm!”

I had not been conscious after we left that wretched underground lair but I can not imagine we are anywhere besides in the same Bavarian mountain region. As I sit down on the opposite end of the couch, the rest of my emotions come out as tears. I feel no control over my emotions, no better than the teenagers I teach. I realize maybe because we are both dealing with alterations to the world we once thought true.

He closes his eyes and rubs them with his hand, obviously exhausted and unsure how to explain anything. “Do you want some cocoa?”

And despite the absurdity of all this, I agree. It does sound nice