Page 62 of The SnowFang Storm

Bitterness coated my mouth. “Yes.”

“Really?” Cye said like it surprised him, which it probably did.

I shrugged.

“What’s it like?” Jun asked eagerly. “What’d you hunt? Was it a bear?”

Cye was looking at me too. Even Burian peeked over whatever he was doing with that lemon peel.

“One year it was a lion, the other year it was a bear.” Each word tasted worse and worse, like walking deeper and deeper into a creepy haunted old mansion.

“You went twice!” Cye exclaimed, then he lowered his tone. “You’re so young.”

I shrugged again.

“What were you? In the back?” Jun asked.

“Third Harrier. I… really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Why not? Did something bad happen?”

Cye swatted him.

They took the hint and stopped peppering me with questions, although Cye gave me such a sad look of commiseration my heartbeat stumbled.

“Everyone ready?” Cye declared while I added details about international packs. He was still wearing the jingle bell, and Burian still had on his silly hat. They darted off en masse to hang the swags on the bedroom doors.

Sterling emerged from the hallway so sweaty he left wet footprints on the floor.

He glanced at what we were watching. The announcers made the pumpkin-pie covered faces plunged ear-deep into patty-pans sound like high sport. “These sorts of things are better in person.”

I rolled my head back to look up at him. “You’ve seen one of these?”

“Lemon meringue, specifically. I’ll grab a quick shower. Meet me in my office, hmm?” He caressed me with a sweaty hand.

I slid off the couch towards the back as Jun and Cye scurried back out into the living room giggling (and jingling) like fools, and Burian sauntered out with his hat at a jaunty angle.

“Winter.” Sterling’s voice tugged at me. “Come here, darling.”

It was not a good sign when he called me darling.

They’d decorated the doors to the bedrooms with door swags made of evergreen, tied with small charms depending on what they hoped for in the new year. All had chosen a white ribbon and added the usual holly clusters: good luck and good health. Burian’s also had a curl of lemon rind twisted around the main trunk of his branch. Cloves punctured the rind.

Usually cloves got shoved in orange. The combination of lemon and cloves smelled like someone had set a bunch of dead trees on fire inside a carwash.

Cye’s was just the holly, but Jun had a cluster of exactly six rosemary sprigs tied with a dainty red ribbon.

I’d never been brave enough to hang that common arrangement from my door. Hell, I’d never even been brave enough to use a red ribbon for my swag. The year after my mother had died I’d used juniper berries, and my father had scolded me (“I will protect you.”) and Jerron had teased me unmercifully.

I’d gone with just white ribbon and holly every year after.

When I got to our door, I rolled my eyes. “Really?”

Howls of laughter from the living room.

“You left them unattended, didn’t you.” Sterling flicked one of the mistletoe berries. He advanced towards me. I backed away from his sweat-soaked physique. Very nice to look at, didn’t really want it pressed against me.

Some imp who called himself a werewolf had braided green and white ribbons, draped them over our door in frilly festoon, then hung a huge swag of evergreen at the center. The whole thing was twisted with a ton of juniper berries, clumps of mistletoe, pinecones, and star anise.

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