fearing whether she’d get a merciful scolding, a vicious whipping, or whether she’d be torn asunder.
In the den, the girls did not find horned Krampus or a white-bearded king wearing white and green. They found two other men, wearing torn brown clothes, jagged knives on their belts, unkempt hair, and crooked teeth. One held a thin torch in his hand, the one Canja had seen from the window, and the other held a bulbous, scorched chunk of wood—Tanya’s burnt doll. Their eyes flickered with wicked firelight and they leered hungrily at the girls.
“Mama!” Tanya shrieked, turning on one heel. “Pa—”
The head of the burnt doll struck the back of her head like a club and the little girl fell to the floor. Canja knelt to her side and one man grabbed her arms, tying them with a scrap of thick cloth. “Be good,” he whispered, and Canja shuddered.
Papa and Mama hurried down the steps, and the doll hit Papa’s head more heavily than it had Tanya, while the torch-holding man stuck his knife close to Mama’s throat. Papa dropped to the floor, and the makeshift club struck his head and back twice more, while Mama fell to her knees. Their arms were tied, and their ankles too, and the men even bound Tanya, who could do little more than whimper. Papa seemed asleep entirely, and he didn’t move at all that Canja could see.
“I beg you,” Mama said. “Do not hurt my daughters.” The men said nothing, but they smirked to each other as they dragged Mama near to the front door, then Papa, and then Tanya and Canja. “Think of the time of year,” Mama pled on. “We could have been generous, had you only asked.”
“You’ll be generous,” one man said grimly, and both men snickered as they went to the kitchen. Canja cringed at the sounds of smacking lips and crunching bones as the vagrants dug their dirty hands into the potatoes, their grimy nails into the turnips, and their crooked teeth gnawed away pieces of roast chicken, like a pair of mangy dogs.
“How long?” one asked the other.
“A day, no more,” the other answered. “They’ll be missed.”
“Will we miss them?”
“No. Kill the man if he’s not dead already.”
“I want the woman.”
“Have her. I see another that’s more my kind.”
Mama began crying with Tanya then, while Canja was too afraid to make a sound. She listened intently to the men’s wordless chewing, her father’s shallow breathing, and her mother and sister’s sobs until the two cried themselves to sleep. The intruding men went on eating.
Canja felt too scared to try moving, too scared to think, and then she felt her legs sliding over the floor on their own, pulled backward through the front entrance to the house. Then they slid into the snow outside, where the wind bit at Canja’s skin through her nightgown, and the front door closed silently in front of her. Her body stopped moving, sunk into the snow, and she turned slowly to see who had dragged her from the nightmare of her home.
A man’s form towered over her, covered in shaggy red hair. Thick, bony claws stuck from the ends of the man’s arms. Black eyes glared down from a gray face that when still resembled a wooden mask of a goat, but when the man scowled, it more resembled flesh, soft and expressive.
“You are Krampus,” Canja said in a daze.
The horned man nodded and bared his jagged teeth. “Are you sorry for your wrongs, child?” he asked in a throaty, grizzled voice.
“I am,” Canja said. “But something worse is happening now and I can’t be taken, or my mother will grieve.”
“What is happening now is part of your wrong,” Krampus said. “Burning your sister’s doll was a small evil, but the smoke led these creatures to your home, and the wrongs they do to your mother, father, and sister are yours as well. Will you repent for these evils?”
With tears in her eyes, squeezed from the guilt in her heart, Canja nodded.
Krampus smiled wryly. “Prove it.” From the darkness, he pulled
In the den, the girls did not find horned Krampus or a white-bearded king wearing white and green. They found two other men, wearing torn brown clothes, jagged knives on their belts, unkempt hair, and crooked teeth. One held a thin torch in his hand, the one Canja had seen from the window, and the other held a bulbous, scorched chunk of wood—Tanya’s burnt doll. Their eyes flickered with wicked firelight and they leered hungrily at the girls.
“Mama!” Tanya shrieked, turning on one heel. “Pa—”
The head of the burnt doll struck the back of her head like a club and the little girl fell to the floor. Canja knelt to her side and one man grabbed her arms, tying them with a scrap of thick cloth. “Be good,” he whispered, and Canja shuddered.
Papa and Mama hurried down the steps, and the doll hit Papa’s head more heavily than it had Tanya, while the torch-holding man stuck his knife close to Mama’s throat. Papa dropped to the floor, and the makeshift club struck his head and back twice more, while Mama fell to her knees. Their arms were tied, and their ankles too, and the men even bound Tanya, who could do little more than whimper. Papa seemed asleep entirely, and he didn’t move at all that Canja could see.
“I beg you,” Mama said. “Do not hurt my daughters.” The men said nothing, but they smirked to each other as they dragged Mama near to the front door, then Papa, and then Tanya and Canja. “Think of the time of year,” Mama pled on. “We could have been generous, had you only asked.”
“You’ll be generous,” one man said grimly, and both men snickered as they went to the kitchen. Canja cringed at the sounds of smacking lips and crunching bones as the vagrants dug their dirty hands into the potatoes, their grimy nails into the turnips, and their crooked teeth gnawed away pieces of roast chicken, like a pair of mangy dogs.
“How long?” one asked the other.
“A day, no more,” the other answered. “They’ll be missed.”
“Will we miss them?”
“No. Kill the man if he’s not dead already.”
“I want the woman.”
“Have her. I see another that’s more my kind.”
Mama began crying with Tanya then, while Canja was too afraid to make a sound. She listened intently to the men’s wordless chewing, her father’s shallow breathing, and her mother and sister’s sobs until the two cried themselves to sleep. The intruding men went on eating.
Canja felt too scared to try moving, too scared to think, and then she felt her legs sliding over the floor on their own, pulled backward through the front entrance to the house. Then they slid into the snow outside, where the wind bit at Canja’s skin through her nightgown, and the front door closed silently in front of her. Her body stopped moving, sunk into the snow, and she turned slowly to see who had dragged her from the nightmare of her home.
A man’s form towered over her, covered in shaggy red hair. Thick, bony claws stuck from the ends of the man’s arms. Black eyes glared down from a gray face that when still resembled a wooden mask of a goat, but when the man scowled, it more resembled flesh, soft and expressive.
“You are Krampus,” Canja said in a daze.
The horned man nodded and bared his jagged teeth. “Are you sorry for your wrongs, child?” he asked in a throaty, grizzled voice.
“I am,” Canja said. “But something worse is happening now and I can’t be taken, or my mother will grieve.”
“What is happening now is part of your wrong,” Krampus said. “Burning your sister’s doll was a small evil, but the smoke led these creatures to your home, and the wrongs they do to your mother, father, and sister are yours as well. Will you repent for these evils?”
With tears in her eyes, squeezed from the guilt in her heart, Canja nodded.
Krampus smiled wryly. “Prove it.” From the darkness, he pulled
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