The houseboat drifted on the placid waters of Okanagan Lake. It was a cozy vessel, smelling of borscht and old timber.
The Domovoi, a small, bearded house spirit, scrubbed the deck. Midnight Vigil. He was far from the steppes of Russia, but a home is a home, and he protected it with fierce loyalty.
Deep below, something ancient stirred. The Ogopogo. It was forty feet of serpentine muscle, a relic of the prehistoric world. It felt the vibration of the boat engine. It thought: Snack.
The Battle for the Hearth
The water heralded the arrival. A massive hump broke the surface. Judging Echo.
The Domovoi saw the beast. He didn't run. He grabbed a cast-iron skillet.
"Shoo!" the Domovoi shouted, banging the pan. Shape of the Old Housekeeper. He tried to project an aura of stern authority, the kind that scares away rats and thieves.
The Ogopogo was not a rat. It was a titan.
It roared, a sound like a foghorn underwater. It didn't want to enter the house; it wanted to eat it.
Livestock Claim.
The Ogopogo opened its mouth—a cavern lined with needle-teeth—and lunged.
The Domovoi threw the skillet. It bounced off the monster's nose with a clang.
The Ogopogo ignored it. It bit the houseboat in half.
Wood splintered. The stove hissed as it hit the water. The Domovoi was thrown into the freezing lake, clinging to a piece of driftwood. He watched sadly as his home, and the hearth he guarded, sank into the dark depths.
The Ogopogo swallowed the aft deck, burped, and submerged, leaving the little spirit to drift toward the shore, homeless and unemployed.