Date Published: 1 November 2018
Santa’s Village was always giving off some sort of minor nuisance that she could overlook. The occasional thunderous boom, the erstwhile blinding flashes in the sky, and the rare fluctuation in the Northern Lights were all easy enough to forgive and forget, but the wreckage of some infernal machine gone clog dancing over her herb garden was just the sort of thing to land an insolent neighbor at the top of the revenge list.
Oh, yes! The spirits were simply philanthropic with cause for revenge of late. There must have been a surplus. It was shaping up to be a very busy winter.
Adding insult to injury, Santa probably had no idea that his detritus had inconvenienced anyone. If she did nothing about it, he’d most likely go on with his life as if nothing had happened. Not a chance! Walking away from this would require legs! Functional ones, with knees intact!
Volgha stood there, fuming. She wasn’t very handy in dealing with people. Plants, yes. Animals, to be sure. The occasional Viking was fine, as long as they were full of mead and beef and you toasted Valhalla with them once or twice. However, your standard, run-of-the-mill person came with all sorts of things. Feelings, needs, complications. It was disgusting, really.
About the Author