text: This was written for u/Say_Im_Ugly's Discord Secret Santa story exchange. I took it upon myself to include Say in the fun, and secretly asked for constraints and had constraints provided for them. This is the story I wrote for u/Say_Im_Ugly using the following constraints: Words: smitten, gingerbread, Jack Frost, glisten, sprocket. Include: something broken, a robin. Genre: Please pick the genre you enjoy writing in the most. The white glow of the TV light danced across the interior of the cabin, as the last remnants of the B Horror movie Jack Frost splashed across the screen. The fading aroma of a Christmas ham intermingled with the alluring smell of freshly baked gingerbread cookies and filled every corner of the small lodge in the Montana wilderness. Nelly and Brett had planned this getaway for months now. Years spent with their increasingly chaotic families left them yearning to find some peace for the holidays. They had both been smitten with the area surrounding Yellowstone after their honeymoon a few years prior, and decided this year to get away from the hustle and bustle of their daily lives in the DC metro area by returning to bring in the new year. The couple, still well in the prime of their lives, had spent the first night, Christmas Eve, in each other’s arms, finally able to relax and melt away the stress, sublimating into the deadened silence of the snow-covered countryside. Occasionally, the stillness would be shattered by the snapping of branches under the weight of snow and various calls from local wildlife. Which is why it was so concerning when Nelly and Brett heard footsteps squeaking through the snow. “Shh. What is that?” Nelly said, recoiling from Brett’s embrace. His pulse quickened as he tuned his ears into the broken silence. The unmistakable crunch of snow compacting underfoot. The steps were weighty, slow and intentional in their pattern. “Footsteps. Probably a Park Ranger. Stay here.” Brett said. He swung his legs out of the bed and into his discarded Christmas-themed pajama pants. His feet, now freezing after being uncovered, quickly found the inside of his sherpa-lined slippers. Not bothering to find a shirt, the fleece lining of his leather jacket produced an unfamiliar feeling on his skin. As he stepped into the large common area of the cabin, reaching from the kitchen through the living area, he toggled the light-switches and illuminated the interior, hoping to disarm the source of the footsteps, acknowledging their presence. Brett stepped out into the blistering cold and called out. “Hello? Is that a Ranger out here?” Brett asked. His query was met with the same silence found before the footsteps which concerned him. Whoever it was had stopped moving and they did not reply to him. “Is that a Park Ranger out here?” Brett called again. Once again he was met with utter silence. A breeze rose through the air, kicking up fresh powder from the ground and out of tree branches above. The cold wind painfully stung his face. “I’m going back inside. If you’re not a Park Ranger, please, just go away. We don’t have cash or valuables, we’re just here to relax.” Brett said, bargaining with an unknown visitor with unknown intentions. He did as he said and returned to the warm embrace of the inside of the cabin with its glowing fire and seasonal aromatics, where his wife waited. He had no sooner reached the hall with the light switches when the electricity cut off entirely. The eerie silence somehow became quieter, their ears now adjusting to the lack of ambient sound. “Brett?” Nelly called out. “I’m here.” Brett said. “What’s going on?” “The power went out.” Brett said, crossing the threshold into the bedroom. “Must be a downed line somewhere.” he added, full of false optimism. “Who was outside?” Nelly asked. “No one. Must have been branches falling or something.” Brett said, attempting to quell any fear Nelly had. “I know I heard footsteps. They must have been!” Nelly contended. “There’s no mistaking the sound of footsteps on snow.” She said, her voice quivering with uncertainty. Almost as if on cue, the silence was once again shattered by a violent explosion of splintered wood as a large man burst through the same door Brett had closed moments earlier. The cacophony of sounds that filled the cabin in the remote countryside over the next few minutes were a chaotic mess of screams, grunts, and the whine from the driving sprocket of a chainsaw. In the morning, the snow surrounding the cabin glistened in the crisp December air. On a low hanging branch, a robin called out, sending miniature plumes of breath out into the stillness that once again blanketed the wilderness. A trail of bloody footprints disappeared into the thick woods behind the cabin.