"I can hardly wait (Patreon)

to find out how this ends," your hostess exclaims. "Without further ado, let's jump right into part four, the final part, of 'How Adler Saved Kringlemas' by Typeandkey with slight revision by Tegerio."

...

Alone in the sleigh, Adler gripped the reins tight,

The wind howled like wolves through the glittering night.

His heart thumped with guilt and a cold, bitter sting:

He’d lost Kathy-Slough Drew, the Kringle’s right wing.

Another black mark on a ledger of shame—

Yet deeper than fear for his own spotted name

Was sorrow for Kathy, for Wendy’s bright eyes,

For every small heart that believed in the skies.

Hoof prints in the snow, where no trail led away—

A pook, clean and quick. Then it clicked, bright as day:

Years back, drunk on spite, he had sent Lana forth

To hunt down the captor who’d smuggled him North.

He’d never rescinded the word. She’d obeyed

In the darkest of ways that the Unseelie played.

Adler snatched up the List—swirling names, wild and blind—

But a star blazed ahead like a beacon of mind.

He looked once again, and the letters stood still:

One name glowed red—Lana Lynne’s wicked will!

He cracked the reins hard with a wild, reckless shout:

“On, Dasher! On, Dancer! To Lana—full rout!

On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen!

Rudolph, light the way—we’ve a Floozy to chasten!”

The sleigh tore the sky, and the heavens unfurled

Till the the old park appeared at the edge of the world.

Below, in the dark, Lana sharpened her pick,

Singing of eyes, and which one she would prick.

Kathy, defiant, still tried to appeal;

Lana just laughed, high and sharp as cold steel.

“I poisoned his cookies—it's petty, I know,

But one ruined Kringlemas eases my woe.

I saw Adler playing at Kringle tonight—

And that's when I had you, unguarded, in sight!

A sleeping-spell whiff and a pook, and you’re mine.

When a plan comes together, it's simply divine.”

She lifted the pick with a villainous grin—

Then the rooftop exploded with clatter and din.

The fake chimney shuddered, the ceiling gave way,

And down slid a figure in red, bold as day.

His eyes—how they twinkled! His dimples—how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

Adler stepped forward, his fur snowy white.

“Oh Lana, just WHAT were you thinking tonight??”

She bleated in fury: “I’m fixing past wrongs!

Finishing orders you gave me in songs

Of vengeance! You’ll thank me when Kathy is done,

And you’re free of the Kringle forever! We've won!”

Adler cracked knuckles beneath mittens red,

Tilted his hat, and quite sternly he said:

“Lana Lynne, by the signet your forebears have kissed,

I hereby command that you cease and desist

From all harm to Kathy-Slough Drew—stand down now,

Or you'll soon face my Irenaeid fury, and how!”

The ice pick fell clattering; her shoulders sank low.

A single soft "Dammit," concluded the show.

Adler sliced Kathy’s ropes and released her with haste;

She sprang up, hugged tight, kissed his cheek (once, quite chaste).

Back to the sleigh in a swirl of bright snow—

Still millions of houses! Still millions to go!

They dashed through the night, rewarding the kind,

Leaving coal and stern switches for others behind.

The Kringle recovered, and loudly avowed

That Adler Young really had done Frostheim proud.

And Lana was spotted at dawn, New Year's morn,

Bell-ringing for charity, soaked and forlorn,

No pook, no escape till the final spring thaw!

The Naughty List’s justice is strictest of law.

And now, there you have it, all set down in rhyme,

That night that will live through the annals of time:

How the sleigh cut the air with its bright silver gleam;

Two unlikely partners, one glorious team.

And they called as they sped far away, out of sight:

“Merry Kringlemas to all, and to all a good night!”

"I guess that's it," your hostess shrugs, closing the book. "Which one of you lot do I talk to about getting paid now?"

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