Chapter Text
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
By Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
December 23rd, 1890
“Be good, or Krampus will give you a visit!” Kiara calls after her students. Now that class is over, they spill into the busy street laughing—knowing her warning is an empty one.
“Merry Christmas, Miss!” They cheer in unison.
She waves goodbye, chuckling to herself. “Merry Christmas!”
The children had counted down the seconds until they were dismissed; legs bouncing in anticipation and eyes constantly flicking toward the door. They weren’t used to sitting and learning for hours each morning, but it was especially harder to keep their attention due to their upcoming holiday break.
To make the final lesson entertaining, she spoke about Krampus, the monstrous counterpart to St. Nicholas. He joins Santa Claus on the nightly journey to each household on Christmas Eve, but instead of giving children gifts, Krampus is tasked with punishing those who have been naughty.
Kiara took the time to explain to her students that while a creature with goat-like features and fangs won’t actually pull them from their beds to swat them with birch branches if they misbehave, the Christmas tale of Santa Claus and Krampus still sends the message of what society (but mostly herself) expects of them: to be good, honest, and kind.
As gifts for her students, she gave each of them a Greetings from Krampus card and a bag of candies. The different interpretations of Krampus in the art and the variation of candy types was quite entertaining to the children. When they each came up to give her a hug in thanks, they asked how she afforded the sweets since they weren’t something they were able to regularly get. She pivoted the conversation, speaking only about the magic of Christmas.
Kiara’s students don’t know her real name or her station—that she is the child of a wealthy business owner who recently inherited an estate right outside of their crowded town. The work she does with them is purely out of charity. She is going behind her parents back to be with them.
And she is proud of how far they’ve come—their kindness and intelligence impresses her everyday.
The only thing holding them back is the world they live in.
And that’s why Kiara wants to change it, to rewrite the system western civilization is built on; to make it so all children are born into the best of circumstances. They deserve a real teacher and a real schoolhouse (not an abandoned shed at the edge of town with some makeshift tables and chairs). The world will be a better place, a place worthy of respect, once children aren’t condemned to a life of less because of where they are born and who they are born to.
It’s what she was trying to do in Boston before her parents discovered her less appropriate ways of demanding justice and upended their lives over it. Getting notice that an estate in England was left to her family from an uncle she never knew about, was the perfect excuse to rip her away from her efforts. She had been making headway in the Women's Suffrage movement and dismantling the Jim Crow laws that were spreading throughout the South.
Her mother and father empathize with her, both facing oppression due to their race and sex, but they are rich, and money can make a big difference in how you are able to move through the world. Kiara is thankful for her status. It gives her the opportunities most Black women can only dream of—but that’s why she fights. If she doesn’t wield the power she possesses, then what’s the point?
Then they moved, they hoped the stricter English society would tame her. Instead, it has done the opposite.
Everywhere Kiara goes, the fire inside of her blazes with a need to make a difference.
Only this time, she is more strategic—secretive—in her activism. It's a small kindling that slowly builds until it roars to life, mighty and bright. Her parents swear to extinguish her, but Kiara will prevail. She always does.
When introduced to another well off family with twins her age, Sarah and John James Groff, they immediately connected over their shared liking of philanthropy. Kiara was testing the waters with how far their charity work went until she was riding into town with them, disguised and ready to assist.
It wasn’t storming the streets of Boston in hoards protesting and demanding justice, but it was still important work.
Sarah and John James had three friends who grew up in the rougher parts of town, John Booker Routledge, Pope Heyward, and Cleo Anderson. Together, they created a system where they served breakfast and dinner for the overworked citizens.
When Kiara was brought in, they finally had the capability to open a school.
Stumbling upon people like herself, who want to make life equal and prosperous for all, has been a blessing.
And since her lessons with the children are done for the day, Kiara closes up and travels through mud-caked streets to a crumbling barn. It’s at the edge of town and functions as a makeshift dining hall. When she arrives, the line of townspeople waiting for their dinner already wraps around the building.
Tying an apron around her waist, Kiara gets to work serving today’s meal. Split pea soup prepared by Pope and Cleo, with a side of bread. John Booker makes sure the fire continuously burns and that all the guests are getting what they need beyond the food.
“Miss,” a small girl tugs at her skirts. She’s the youngest in Kiara’s class, and usually doesn’t say anything. “You’re sure Santa will come?”
“Absolutely, Mabel,” Kiara replies, brushing some mousy brown hair out of the girl’s face. All of the children’s gifts have been coordinated by her new friend group—no child will go without this holiday season. She fills Mabel’s bowl with a little extra soup. “Now eat up. Merry Christmas!”
Mabel gives her a cheeky smile as her parents usher her over to a table.
They are one of the last families to come through the line for dinner, so Kiara’s work is done. She is unable to stay for the big clean up at the end because her parents still think she is in her own lessons, but the soup station is wiped clean and prepped for use tomorrow.
Waving goodbye to her friends and wishing them a Merry Christmas, Kiara leaves and heads to the livery stable where her mare, Ardor, snorts softly in greeting.
“Hello, sweet girl,” Kiara coos, petting the black thoroughbred’s neck. The white blaze marking down her face and her fiery temper inspired the name—Latin for fire.
When Kiara was ten years old and first saw Ardor, who was recently brought into Boston as a pedigree thoroughbred, she was mesmerized by the horse's fierceness as she fought anyone who tried to touch her. Kiara’s language lessons were focusing on Latin at the time, so the name came to her immediately. When she snuck into the stable at night where Ardor had been kept, she whispered the chosen name and the mare came right up to her, calm and collected. After feeding her some carrots, Kiara knew the mare was meant to be with her.
The effort it took to convince her parents to get Ardor for her was exhausting, but they eventually relented. Kiara took it upon herself to train Ardor, and they have been inseparable since. At protests, when Kiara would lead the crowds atop Ardor, she took pleasure in the way people gawked at her 'indecent’ and ‘scandalous’ position since she rode astride—not sidesaddle, as expected of women in polite society.
If there is anything Kiara knows about herself, it’s that she isn’t polite.
And neither was Ardor.
They have been through a lot together, so it was only expected her horse made the trip across the Atlantic to be in England. Kiara couldn’t leave her most trusted companion behind, despite how badly her parents wanted her to. In the future, she plans to explore all of England, and even Europe, assisting anyone looking for liberation atop her horse.
Already prepped and saddled by a stable hand (she paid extra money for the service, taking any opportunity to spread her wealth), she simply pulls herself onto Ardor’s back.
Needing to get home before her parents realize she has been skipping her lessons, Kiara starts Ardor off at a quicker pass leaving the stable. Winter air whips around her and she momentarily hugs herself, missing being in front of a large cauldron of warm soup. But she adjusts quickly and about halfway home, the ride is peaceful.
The sun is setting, an orange blaze halfway hidden by the horizon. It had been snowing earlier, but the sky opened up; still a light blue despite the time of day with a scattering of pink clouds. The combination of colors gives the snow a purple hue to it. It’s beautiful and Kiara admires it along with the oak forest that the trail cuts through. The trees stand out, a dark contrast against the colorful black drop with their branches piled up with snow.
When they moved to England, it had been summertime, and Kiara spent as much time as she could in these woods. They welcomed her with open arms, immediately feeling at home surrounded by nature. It was easier to adjust when exploring—taking in the new plants and animals as she ran barefoot through the small creek that gave the town its name, Oakcreek.
She has been comfortable traveling alone through the woods, until now.
Because there’s movement in her peripheral.
She hasn’t seen a single soul since she left the bustle of town.
Looking over her shoulder, Kiara finds nothing. As she and Ardor keep moving forward, an unrecognizable dark shape continues to haunt the edges of her vision—following them. But no matter how many times she checks, it’s only the snow and trees staring back at her.
Slowing Ardor to a complete stop, Kiara fully turns herself to stare deep into the woods to her right. Shaking out her mane, Ardor nibbles at the ground, looking for any sort of snack while she waits—unaffected by whatever strange thing is happening to Kiara.
Even if Ardor can’t detect it, she still has the sneaking suspicion that something, or someone, is stalking her.
As she continues to peer into the woods, the trees start to warp, taking on new shapes and colors—nothing Kiara can comprehend. It’s otherworldly. And something’s calling to her, beckoning her forward. It’s the forest. It wants her.
The urge to leap off Ardor and run straight into the unknown overwhelms her. As her heart races, an invasive coldness runs up her spine and makes her shudder despite her burgundy velvet cloak keeping her warm moments before.
It reminds her of dreams she has been experiencing since her arrival in Oakcreek. They start with her in her white nightgown and her long curls loose, blowing in the wind. The time of day and the season often changes, sometimes it’s night, sometimes it’s day. And whether it’s grass or snow she stands on, she is barefoot. The urge to run always overcomes her and then she is sprinting through the trees.
Kiara runs for a reason; something is chasing her. She can never figure out what it is. Like now, it’s always a shadow creeping ever closer.
But it never feels like she is in danger. It’s a thrill to be desired by whatever wants her—needs her.
“Excuse me,” a faint voice calls out.
The interruption breaks Kiara from her trance, and she almost slips out of the saddle in surprise. She looks straight ahead to see a white man, around her age, waving her down from further up the path. He moves slowly, the snow slippery beneath his feet.
Fresh blood drips down his clean-shaven face. The bright red is even splattered across his battered beige overcoat. The single layer cape collar was even torn in a few places as if it had been ripped in a quarrel.
In a split second, Kiara draws her pocket pistol from a bag attached to her saddle and points it directly at him. She looks around for danger, but no one else makes themselves known. Ardor also stands at the ready, head high and ears perked.
The man’s hands are still in the air, but now in a surrendering gesture and shaking slightly. “I don’t mean to startle you.” He quickly wipes at a cut on his forehead. That explains the blood. “My horse was stolen and I was dragged into the woods, left for dead. It took me a while to find this path again.”
He’s American. The familiar Northeast accent of home makes Kiara relax a bit. She didn’t realize how much she missed hearing it (coming from someone other than her parents) until now.
And he’s handsome. Like stupidly handsome. Stormy blue eyes stare up at her, unwavering—standing out because of the blood. He wears no hat, most likely stolen by whoever had attacked him. His dirty blond hair is parted down the middle. Unruly bangs sweep in toward his eyes, giving him a sharpness that Kiara can’t ignore.
“What is your business out here?” Kiara asks, her tone commanding, ignoring his pretty face.
“I’m from New York. I was on my way to meet with Michael Carrera about some upcoming important shipments. A contract to sign that I wanted to deliver personally.” He pulled the document from an internal coat pocket and held it up with a slight smirk. “At least the robbers didn’t take this.”
Kiara nods. “I work for Mr. Carrera. I can bring you to him.” She glances out at the woods. “Do you know who attacked you?”
The man sighs, defeated. “Looked like basic robbers to me. They caught me by surprise. Stealing my horse was the worst of it.” He truly looked upset over it.
Any other day, she would make him walk ahead of her, so that she could keep an eye on him at all times, but she is going to be late.
“You can ride with me,” Kiara states, tucking her pistol away and giving him her hand. She has a knife stashed in her boot if she needs to attack quickly in close proximity. If any of the robbers were still sticking around, leaving swiftly is their safest bet.
Was it the robbers stalking her earlier? Surely Ardor would have reacted to them.
“Thank you,” he says sincerely, grabbing a hold of her hand and hoisting himself onto Ardor, snug against Kiara’s backside. Clearing his throat he says, “beautiful horse.”
Surprisingly, Ardor didn’t try to bite the man, or kick him off. “She likes you, for some reason,” Kiara mumbles as she grabs a handkerchief from her bag and hands it over her shoulder. “For your cut. I don’t want your blood dripping all over me.”
He chuckles, gently grabbing it from her.
“Hold on tight!” Kiara urges Ardor forward and they’re off at a steady canter.
He wraps his arms tentatively around her waist. When she doesn’t protest, he holds on tighter. “What’s your name?” He asks, his breath practically tickling her ear, and she doesn’t dislike it.
“It doesn’t matter,” she quips. “We will be at Mr. Carrera’s home shortly.” She pauses for a moment. “What’s yours?”
She knows it’s hypocritical to deny him her name and then ask for his, but she’s curious.
“Rafe,” he states, “Rafe Cameron.”
They don’t speak for the last few minutes of the ride and as they arrive at her family’s stables, her governess, Emma, runs out of the door, ready to reprimand Kiara for almost being late but freezes when she notices Rafe.
“This is Rafe Cameron,” Kiara announces as more staff spill out to see the commotion. “I found him coming back from town. He is here on business with Mr. Carrera and needs to be tended to. He was attacked and robbed.”
When she brings Ardor to a stop, a stable boy, Joseph, quickly runs up to assist Rafe as he jumps off.
“Hello, everyone,” Rafe says sheepishly, ducking his head as Emma runs over with a wet cloth for him to wipe his face with.
Kiara doesn’t miss how he pockets her bloody handkerchief.
“This way, Sir.” Joseph tugs on Rafe’s arm, pulling him away from Kiara as quickly as possible. All of the staff knows she needs to get upstairs immediately or her parents will find out she sneaks away.
Still, Rafe resists and turns back to her. “Thank you, again. I am forever in your debt.”
Kiara nods in response, moved by the earnestness in his voice. She hardly did anything. The robbers must’ve really shaken him.
Rafe is guided toward the front of the house. Joseph will most likely say he found the newcomer when introducing him to her parents, and she can only hope Rafe follows along with it.
Sneaking into her bedroom, Kiara undresses and gets herself cleaned up. Her personal lady’s maid, Jane, helps her into a new dark green dinner dress and braids her hair into an updo with some loose curls that frame her neck and fall over her collarbone.
Tonight, a suitor (Kiara blanches at the word) will be visiting and having dinner with her family. She complies, despite it being the last thing she wants to do, because otherwise her parents will pick a husband for her. At least right now, she has somewhat of a say.
But nothing can really be a choice if she will be forced into marriage.
She’s hoping her good behavior and ‘changed ways’ (so far) will mean she can become a spinster and live a life of freedom, or as much freedom she can get within society's constraints. Kiara hopes to break those constraints, and being married will only hold her back. The men her parents want her to marry will ruin her. Whoever they pick will squash her like a bug underneath his shoe. And then she will have to run away, and she doesn’t want to completely cut ties with her parents.
Once ready, another one of the staff stops by her bedroom to announce there is a guest her parents wish her to meet before dinner. She takes slow and calculated steps downstairs. Once in the foyer, she finds her parents cheerfully speaking with Rafe.
Her father’s face lights up at her entrance. He walks toward her and she takes his elbow, allowing him to bring her to the guest. “Mr. Cameron, this is my daughter, Kiara!”
Rafe cleans up well. The only sign something happened earlier were the two stitches in his forehead. Without all of the blood, she can see him clearer. His skin is tan despite the season. High cheekbones and a straight nose lead her to plump lips that fall slightly agape at her entrance.
He must’ve borrowed some of her father’s clothes, but each piece looks as though they were tailored specifically for him. A black tailcoat, coupled with a black waistcoat and white collared shirt, accentuates his broad shoulders and trim waist. Similarly, black pants with braided side seams cover his long legs, and a black bowtie to top it off.
Despite keeping herself calm and collected in appearance, her heart stutters as they make eye contact. Rafe is clearly surprised she isn’t a servant of Mr. Carrera, like she made it seem, but his daughter. The slight raise in his eyebrows vanquishes quickly as she raises her hand toward him. As gentlemanly as ever, he claps her fingers in his and bows forward to softly kiss across her knuckles. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Carrera.”
Kiara relaxes a bit. Rafe went along with whatever story Joseph made up to protect her.
“Oh please, call me Kiara.” She waves him off sickly sweet, a completely different attitude from the one she gave him earlier.
It doesn’t phase him. He simply nods and tucks his hands behind his back.
“I appreciate you getting this to me.” Her father holds up the document Rafe had shown her earlier. She still can’t figure out what it is. “Since you need to rest and it’s almost Christmas, I ask that you stay here for a couple of days! We need to catch up. We haven’t seen each other since moving to England!”
“Please do!” Her mother followed up, grinning at Rafe.
He gave a small smile. “I appreciate your hospitality and gladly accept. I will repay you once I am back on my feet.”
They knew each other in Boston? Kiara doesn’t remember her father ever mentioning a Rafe Cameron, and he has to be an important person in his business to hand deliver a document. And that’s also suspicious; in all her time of being consciously aware of her father’s work, nothing had been so important it would need to be personally delivered across the ocean.
Plus, they usually treat Christmas as a time for just the three of them. Her parents aren’t even big fans of how Kiara makes them include all of the staff in their celebrations.
And tonight, Christopher Thornton is coming for dinner to try and win her hand in marriage. Why would they let someone they hardly know join them? It won’t be a good look to have another young man at dinner, and her parents must know that.
How, in such a short amount of time, has Rafe made her parents love him so?
***
When Christopher arrives, Kiara’s mother is ecstatic and greets him warmly—as if he is already her son-in-law. As a group, they make their way into the dining room. When she attempts to round the table and sit on the opposite side of Christopher (next to Rafe) her mom practically shoves her into the seat beside him. Internally she groans, but plasters a smile on her face as small talk begins.
Christopher is insufferable. A rich man who thinks he can do whatever he wants, get whatever he wants. He sees her as a prize, not a human being.
Thankfully, the food being served gives Kiara a bit of a break, able to occupy herself with something else other than ignoring Christopher. Although, he mainly chats with her father, who is joyful as ever. To her father’s right sits her mother, and to his left is Christopher. Usually she sits next to her father but has to give up the spot for guests.
Rafe sits next to her mother, across from her. As he takes a sip of his whisky, he glares at Christopher over the glass, who is recounting a ridiculous hunting story boosting his ego. It’s obviously a lie, but he thinks no one will realize because they haven’t lived here that long.
At least Kiara isn’t alone in despising Christopher. And now she can disregard him completely, instead paying attention to Rafe. Even if her mother and father try to pull her into the conversation with Christopher, Rafe is able to smoothly interrupt and draw the attention away from her.
Eventually, the topic of Christmas is brought up and Christopher presents her with a Christmas card. The art depicts Santa Claus carrying his sack of toys through a snowy landscape. Her mother pulls it from her hands to admire the card, and Kiara is happy to let go of it. It’s signed to the Carrera family as a whole anyway.
Rafe clears his throat. “Coming through town, I stopped in a shop that was selling Christmas cards.” He pulls one out of his coat and hands it across the table to Kiara. “For you,” he says.
It’s a Greetings from Krampus card, and unique from any she has seen. The art is only of Krampus, the focus on his face. He has long horns and dark hair lined with holly plants. His skin is gray and his eyes are a bright blue. Long canines are bared and his tongue falls from his mouth in a provocative manner.
Kiara loves it.
Christopher glances over at it and makes a face, clearly displeased. “Now why would you go and give that to a young lady?”
“Krampus might come for me this year,” Kiara teases, smiling at Rafe and not allowing her parents to see the card before tucking it away. “Thank you.”
Rafe smiles back with a heat in his eyes that makes Kiara’s neck and face grow warm. Her mother gives her a stern look, basically telling her to knock it off as Christopher continues talking about something insignificant. The card he gifted is left on the table to be covered in crumbs and sauce while Kiara can’t stop thinking about Rafe’s.
Why does it feel like he bought the Christmas card specifically for her? It makes no sense (since he was at the store before they met), but Kiara can’t help but see it that way.
When dinner is finally over, they gather in the drawing room. At least here, Kiara can admire the Christmas decorations she helped the staff set up the other day. The large pine tree, adorned with ornaments, is the vocal point. It sits in the corner between the fireplace and the window that looks out into the front yard. Underneath it are what looks like hundreds of presents wrapped in showy paper, ribbons, and lace. Her parents spoil her, being their only child, but she also made sure that each member of the staff will receive at least two gifts.
Christopher fortunately leaves shortly after, saying he has to prepare for a full day of Christmas celebrations the next day. Once he’s gone, her parents retire for the night. Kiara stays up and finds herself fiddling with the evergreen garlands atop the fireplace mantel.
Rafe comes to stand next to her. His combined body heat and the warmth of the fire makes Kiara flush.
It’s not proper to be alone together. And she doesn’t care. But it is strange her parents are allowing it to happen.
“Impressive,” Rafe states as he helps her finish repositioning the garland.
Kiara glances at him.
“The decorations,” he clarifies, gesturing to all of them in the room. “All the effort you have put into the holiday season. I admire it.” Then he scowls. “It’s insulting that Christopher didn’t compliment any of it.”
Kiara bites her lips, trying not to laugh. Instead, she rolls her eyes. “He says he wants my hand in marriage, but he only ever talks to my father.”
Rafe smirks and she is hit with the realization that she doesn’t need to perform in front of him. He feels different, but in a good way—those who go against the constraints of society are always Kiara’s favorite people. And although he is dressed like any rich man would for dinner, she can tell it’s pretend.
Who is he?
“Are you looking for someone to marry?” Kiara asks, trying to get more information about him as they both sit on the couch, facing the Christmas tree.
“No,” Rafe says softly, the light of the fire flickering across his face, making his blue eyes shine. Then he is smiling at her in a teasing manner. “I am afraid of women now. I had a young lady point a pistol at me just this morning without hesitation. I am not worthy of such tenacity."
Kiara throws her head back, laughing harder than she thought possible. Clutching at her chest, she regains herself and stares him down. “No men are worthy of women. We are the superior sex. I’m glad you’ve picked up on that.”
He hums in agreement and she can tell he truly means it.
“And yet.” Kiara sighs. "I'll be forced to marry a man my parents choose for me. How saddening is that? At least being a man, you can head right back to the States when you’re ready. Me? I’m stuck here.” When she looks at him, his jaw clenches. “Sorry,” she apologizes, something she rarely does. “I don’t mean to dump all of my woes onto you.”
When he looks at her, something about him feels ancient. His eyes hold centuries of knowledge and experience. “Wherever you go, you’ll make a difference,” he states, his voice full of conviction. “England is lucky to have you. The world needs you. You see a future where life is fair to all, and you will do whatever it takes to make that happen.”
Kiara is moved by his words. Tears threaten to spill, but she keeps them contained. She will never give up, no matter what life throws her way.
She wants to beg him to stay in England, to join her friends and help change the world. Instead, she clears her throat and asks, “What are your plans after Christmas?”
“I don’t have a family to go home to,” Rafe admits, “which is why I appreciate you and your parents for letting me stick around. But my work will make me return to the States.”
“I have a lot of plans tomorrow, to help out in town for Christmas,” Kiara blurts, “would you like to join me?”
She’s foolish. How can she be so attached to someone she hardly knows? But she doesn’t regret asking. He will leave soon, and she wants to soak in every moment with him that she can.
“I’d love that.” Rafe stands, smiling down at her. “I better get some sleep. Goodnight, Kiara.” His last words are a soft whisper as he leaves the drawing room and disappears altogether.
Kiara takes a moment to collect herself and then grabs the Greetings from Krampus card Rafe had given her to place it into a golden ornate frame. She sets it on the fireplace mantel, amongst the rest of the Christmas decorations.
Next to a lit candle, the art of Krampus seems to glow. She leaves it for everyone to see as she heads up to her room. A gift she will cherish forever.
Tired from the commotion of the day, she falls asleep quickly, but it’s restless.
The same dream comes into focus. She’s in the woods and her feet sink into snow. It’s nighttime. The lantern she holds is the only thing that lights her way. It starts off the same, with her beginning to run as the unknown entity hunts her down.
Only this time, she is able to plant her feet into the ground and spin around—able to face what wants her.
It’s Krampus who pounces, capturing her in his arms and sinking his teeth into her heart.