Page 40 of Bride of Choice

“You came hoping for ick cooties, to ransack my hut on the off chance I’d kicked the bucket, or just checking on a bet whether I’ve killed Rek or not yet?” I guessed aloud.

Bum-bum let out a soft grunt. “Yells,” he said simply.

“That was a while ago, my dude,” I pointed out with a shake of my head.

And… cue awkward, super long pause as he fidgets and looks super uncomfortable.

“Krampusnauchtt,” he finally rumbled out softly.

“Krampysnatch? What the hell is that?” I muttered, making to stand to find thick hands clasping my elbows, dirt yuck and all, to help me to my feet. Lower, I muttered, “It’s me on the rag. Har-har.” It sounded like some kind of painful STD.

“No’ fun-knees,” he grunted out, frowning mightily.

“Oh, now you’re going to offer your help?” I snarked, ignoring his slap on my funsies, rolling my eyes as I glanced down my arms and flicked a bit of caked mud from my person. Bossy fucker.

“No. Kampusnauchtt,” he repeated, gesturing out the door, like I should know what on earth he was talking about.

Then it hit me. “Oh, you mean that demon thing. He took off when Booger showed up. He just called them ugly murder flurfers a Krampus. Are those the same thing or a different kind of nightmare? An ick from those nightmares? Clue me in, Snow Patrol.”

Shaking his head, he grunted a few times before saying yet again, “Krampusnauchtt.”

“Right, well, alrighty then. Whatever the fuck that means.” I wasn’t exactly in the mood to play mime it out with him right now.

“Krampusnauchtt. Hunt,” he rumbled out curtly, persistently.

“Are you saying it’s, like, their hunt right now?” I blurted, startled by the idea. “A hunt-hunt or a bridal hunting dealie like the Lo denaii do?”

“Krampus hunt times,” he muttered as he took in the chaos that is my hut.

“I don’t suppose you want to give a gal a hand? Make my life a wee bit easier?” Posed as a question, it wasn’t so much one as a sarcastic retort.

A long sigh left me as I got to work, ignoring his loud snuffling and sniffling around the place.

“What go here?” he grunted out when I was about halfway through with mud clean up duty.

“What goes here? I go here, my bosom boob,” I quipped, tossing him a wink that he flinched at. I shouldn’t find so much joy in causing him this much discomfort, and yet… “Best get to movin’ sass-squatch. Don’t want anyone thinkin’ you’re keen on me or my fun-knees, Snow Patrol.”

“Say no’ fun-knees. Not funs knees,” he grunted out churlishly. Like I hadn’t said anything about him fecking off, he’d made himself right at home while I worked, touching every god damned thing in my domicile at least twice. My bed and what lies within it, or more so I should say is hidden beneath my pillow was, thankfully, left undiscovered.

Lifting my pant legs, exposing my Yetiliciously hairy stems since I’d run out of razors and my electric razor went kaputsky a while back, I’ve been here that damn long, I let out a soft wolf whistle as I made a little show out of my exposed knee caps. “I dunno, these knees have had their fair share of fun.”

“Not fun-knees,” he grunted out. The way he was eyeball fucking my legs had me subtly shoving my pant legs back down. Woo there, honey. Slow your home-made rolls.

“Of course not. Knees are nothing to have fun over.” With a jaunty salute, I limped my way to my door. Opening it, I gestured for him to merrily fuck off. “Well, thanks for stopping by, big guy, but if you don’t mind I’d like to gather some snow, watch it slowly melt because I have nothing better to do, then shiver butt assed nekkid over the pot I put it in as I try and give myself a good wash down, sans an honest to god, full sized god damned tub because my place is just too fucking small for a Yeti sized one.”

“Lo denaii,” he rumblingly correctly.

“Look here, biggun. The day y’all stop calling us females and start addressing me by my actual name correctly said, is the day I stop mangling your bullshit. You got me, boo?”

“Not Boog. Boog no’ here,” he garbled out softly, carefully. Rumblingly saying his name in his tongue, he tapped his chest.

My hand slapped to my forehead. Instantly regretting the action as mud dust on the back of my palm coated the air, I had to bite down hard to keep the snark just waiting to fly free was forced back. Choosing a more subtle form of sarcasm as my weapon, I threw my hands up. “My god, you’re right! How could I forget? So silly of me!” Walking over to him and taking him by the arm, ignoring the startled noise he let out at being so freely man-handled, this allowed me a sec to drag-walk him six steps towards the door. “Grrrr-grumble-grumble-complain, you know what, you are exactly right!”

“No’ how say it.” It was all over the second he dug his heels in and I knew it. So close. Ugh.

“I need to get naked, my friend, no clothes on, just in the skin God gave me and the overgrown fur needing a lawn mowing encompassing all within, you feel me, fuzzo? So you need to leave.” There was no clearer way to paint that picture.

Bum-bum blinked and a rumble that wasn’t the least bit unsettled left him.

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