Pine Trees and Brass Cogs
In the old times, when the winter was at its darkest, evil spirits would haunt the forests. Bringing in evergreen protected against the malevolent shadows.
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“Aha!” Steel held up a rusty metal box. “Come help me decorate the tree.”
“The tree?” Hank held in a sigh as Steel dragged the tree out from the corner by the wall with the bars and levers. As he did, the smell of pine filled the cabin, and as much as Hank wanted to deny liking it, the scent was pleasant. They’d never had a tree as he grew up. His mother sneaked in a wreath some years, but that was it.
“Here. hold this.” Steel gave him the box and sank down on the floor in front of Hank. Paralyzed, he watched as Steel crawled under the bed, his arse at perfect display from where Hank was sitting.
