“You? Doing deliveries for Operation Milk and Cookies?” asked Krampus, sipping at his coffee and dunking one of the cookies into his mug.

Krampus pulled the cookie out and nibbled at it, looking over his ward. Sean had been fit before, but not in the right ways, not in ways suited for The Ride. He’d been built for speed, not endurance. A marathon was nothing compared to The Ride. The Ride made marathons look like sprints. He wasn’t perfect yet, but Krampus finally had a suitable base to mold into the ideal were-reindeer.

“You really thought you could keep your plan secret from me?” asked Krampus. “You knew Avery would fill me in.”

“Didn’t think you’d give me permission,” said Sean, crossing his arms.

“And you were going to row across the lake in the dead of night to prove me wrong, and somehow make it back by morning?” asked Krampus. “Uh-huh. I’d like to see that happen. You could’ve just asked permission.”

“As if you would’ve let me off the island,” retorted Sean.

“I would’ve,” said Krampus, fingering a piece of ribbon he’d found at the bakery before putting it in his pocket, and then, idly, forming it into a ball, much like a ball of string. “You’re finally getting into the holiday spirit, Sean. You may not know how to use your shift very well, but, today, we start your training, for The Ride. It’ll also get you back in shape for the deliveries.”

“How hard could it be to make some deliveries?” asked Sean.

“There’s a blizzard expected on the date of deliveries, the night before Christmas Eve,” said Krampus. “You may’ve been a professional runner in your old life, but do you really think that prepared you for a good ol’ fashioned Montana blizzard? Boy, you can’t outrun a blizzard, same way you can’t outrun Fate. This land’s so up North, you can practically smell the syrup wafting in from Canada. The deliveries aren’t just about speed. It’s about endurance. So is The Ride. We’ve built the muscles. You don’t have a runner’s body right now, but I’m sure when you go back to the outside world, that stick figure you call a runner’s body will bounce right back.”

“You’re letting me do it? You’re really letting me help Joy?” asked Sean.

“You’ve focused on your work here at the camp over the last two weeks,” said Krampus. “You stopped letting yourself get distracted. I told you. There’s an order we do things in. You helped me. Now you can help her. It’s all good.”

“What kind of training do you have in mind?” asked Sean.

“I’m glad you asked,” said Krampus. “Come on. I set it up this morning.”

Sean followed Krampus out of the workhouse, which contained both of their bedrooms, a shared bathroom, a kitchen, and a room with a table that was primarily used as a dining space. There was no rec area, no rumpus room, and no television. Krampus’s office had a single computer that still used a dial-up connection.

Krampus led Sean down to a clearing in the woods. They were wearing their usual lumberjack garb: work boots, work pants, work shirts. It was a short hike from the workhouse to any spot on the island, which was barely a quarter mile in diameter.

“You’ve heard of Santana’s Workshop,” said Krampus, opening the candy cane patterned gate. “Welcome to Krampus’ workshop.”

Sean looked around and couldn’t help but smile. How was this supposed to help him train for Christmas? The arena looked like it was filled with items one would find at a mall Santa’s kiosk. There were decorated Christmas trees, buckets of ornaments, oversized presents.

“Grab those buckets of ornaments,” said Krampus, pointing to the buckets. “Bring them to me. Follow the track.”

Krampus walked to the other side of the arena and took a seat. Krampus waved his hand. Ribbons of red and green light flowed out of his fingers. The light formed a pathway, beams of light floating in midair.

Sean grabbed the two buckets of ornaments and brought them over to Krampus. He followed the magical track. He went over the oversized boxes. He ducked underneath a limbo stick decorated like a candy cane. Sean hit the stick with his elbow and making the jingle bells on the stick jingle. Sean cursed to himself and the mark burned. He nearly dropped a bucket but caught it just in the Saint Nick of time. He navigated through a veritable forest of decorated Christmas trees, the pine needles scratching at his skin, ornaments falling off the trees, cracking beneath his boots. Once he was out of the Christmas tree forest, he was as also out of the woods. The path to Krampus was one clear straight shot.

As he put the buckets down, a few ornaments from each bucket fell out and broke. The glass ornaments split cleanly into a few parts, glistening on the bare forest ground.

“Shit,” cursed Sean, causing his chest mark to burn and remind him not to use Naughty words.

Sean looked back. He’d dropped other ornaments on the way to Krampus, and they’d also broken. The task seemed so simple, but apparently, there was more to it than he realized.

“Lesson number one, don’t curse on The Ride,” said Krampus. “The only one allowed to curse is Santana, for putting up with your shit. Lesson number two. Learn how to carry delicate things efficiently. Efficacy means not breaking anything. You’ll be pulling the most precious cargo in the world in that sleigh. You’ll be carrying Santana fuckin’ Claus. Right now, you let an ornament fall out of a bucket. What if next time, you let Santana fall out of the sleigh?”

Krampus waved his hand. The ornament pieces rose from the ground and reassembled themselves. With a flick of the wrist, the ornaments were back in the buckets.

“Carry them back to where you picked them up, then, back,” said Krampus.

Krampus reached into his pocket and pulled out a stopwatch to use to time Sean. After twenty trips, Sean had not managed to balance speed and care. He would either carry the buckets too quickly and cause the ornaments to spill out of the buckets, or he’d carry them too slowly and not meet Krampus’ metrics. Sean swore the buckets must’ve been lined with oil or something to make the ornaments fall out. Maybe Krampus was using demoncraft to cause the decorations to slip out of the buckets.

Sean sighed and put down the buckets of ornaments. He knew that training was going to be hard, but he’d expected Krampus was going to have him running laps or working out in a weight room or some shiny gym. He knew there was a method to the old goat’s madness, so when Krampus whistled, Sean picked the buckets back up and kept moving.

After thirty more trips, Sean finally got it. Sean had counted the seconds in his head as he walked, attuning himself to the rhythm of the exercise.

“And…done,” said Sean, putting the buckets down carefully without letting a single ornament fall from the bucket.

“Yes, yes you did,” said Krampus. “Now, onto part two. You need to carry those buckets without spilling a single ornament.”

“I just did that,” said Sean.

“I’m not finished,” said Krampus. “You need to do it all over again…in your shift.”

“In my fucking shift?” Asked Sean, making his chest burn.

“Word to the wise. Use ‘frikking’ or something. Your mark won’t burn when you use a fake cuss word,” advised Krampus after having noticed Sean wincing. “I assure you. I am serious. Let Dasher teach you. Take his advice. You need to learn to use your reindeer shift as well as you could use your bear shift. I bet you could’ve carried an egg in your bear shift’s mouth without crushing it. I need you to have that level of precision with your shift. The Ride is more than important. It’s dangerous. There’s a reason we need strong-willed shifters who can handle The Ride mentally and physically. We’ve got most of the physical part down pat. You’ve done arm day and leg day and worked that core. Today is brain day. Heart day. Soul day. Whatever you want to call it, we need to work on what’s on the inside today.”

“Strong-willed shifters? That why you pick bad boys for The Ride?” Sean asked rhetorically.

“Yes,” said Krampus. “Can you imagine a shifter so strong willed that he is able to resist his purest biological, Fated urge, the urge to find a fated mate? That strong will is a curse I’m turning into a blessing. And trust me. I’m a demon. I know all about curses. Enough about theory. Let’s get into practice. Listen to Dasher.”

Sean backed up into a clear spot in the arena.

Alright, how do we do this? Sean asked Dasher.

Get on all fours, ordered Dasher.

Sean got on his hands and knees.

Okay, close your eyes, then, open them up. I’ll handle the shift, said Dasher.

Sean opened his eyes. He was in his reindeer form. Sean reached to grab one of the ornament buckets with his hoof, but he knocked it over.

You don’t have paws, said Dasher. Use your horns.

My horns? asked Sean.

Like threading a needle, said Dasher.

Krampus raised a hand and the ornament bucket untipped and refilled with ornaments. Sean bent down and gently threaded the tip of his antler through the bucket’s handle. It took a few tries, but he finally managed to do it. When Sean had finally threaded the bucket handle onto his antler, he stood up quickly, causing the ornaments to go flying.

We’re going to be at this all day, aren’t we? asked Sean.

If you’re lucky, that’s all, said Dasher. Try all week.