Page 17 of Howls & Harvest

He shakes his head. “Not usually. Just intense. The cabin’s warded against magical interference. We’re safe here.”

A comfortable silence falls between us, broken only by the crackling fire, and the storm’s fury outside. I study his profile, liking the way the firelight plays across his features. “Can I ask you something?” I say, breaking the silence.

Ronan turns to me. “Of course.”

“Do you ever think about leaving Evershift Haven?”

He sighs, a low rumble in his chest. “Yes, but it’s too complicated. You’ve probably noticed I’m not like the werewolves in your stories.”

I nod, remembering the tales of men transforming into wolves under the full moon. “You’re always like this, right?”

“Yes. Lycans are...stuck, I suppose you could say. We can’t fully shift between wolf and human forms. This is our natural state.” He holds up a hand, flexing his clawed fingers. “It makes blending into the human world challenging.”

“I see,” I say softly. “So Evershift Haven is...”

“A place where I can be myself without fear or judgment. My pack has been here for generations. We’re part of the fabric of this community.”

I reach out, hesitating for a moment before placing my hand on his furred arm. “That must be both comforting and limiting.”

He nods while, looking at where my hand rests. “It is. I’m grateful for the safety and acceptance Evershift provides, but sometimes, I wonder about the world beyond. The human world.”

He smiles, a flash of sharp teeth that I now find endearing rather than intimidating. “Occasionally, the best parts of the human world come to me. I’m curious by nature, and you intrigue me, Candice.”

I flush at his words. “I’m not that interesting.”

“I disagree,” he says. “Tell me something about your life in Chicago. Something you love.”

I think for a moment as memories of the bustling city flash through my mind. “There’s this little farmers’ market I go to every weekend. It’s nothing fancy, just a handful of local farmers selling their produce, but there’s something magical about it. The way the vegetables are arranged in neat rows, still covered in bits of soil, the smell of fresh herbs and ripe fruit...” I trail off with a happy sigh. “The farmers know me by name now. They always save the best tomatoes for me.”

As I speak, he moves closer. “That sounds wonderful. Do you grow things yourself? I think you mentioned an herb garden?”

I laugh softly. “Not really. Just a few herbs on my windowsill, and some containers on my patio. My apartment doesn’t exactly have space for a garden, but...” I trail off, suddenly self-conscious.

“But what?” he prompts gently.

I inhale and exhale a couple of times, bracing myself to admit something I haven’t even told my sister. “Promise not to laugh?”

He places a hand over his heart, the gesture solemn despite the twinkle in his eyes. “Lycan’s honor.”

“Okay. The truth is, I’ve always dreamed of being a farmer. Not just growing a few tomatoes, but really farming. Working the land, watching things grow from seed to harvest, and being self-reliant. There’s something so pure about it. So connected to nature.”

I expect Ronan to chuckle at my city-girl farming fantasies, but his expression is thoughtful. “That’s a beautiful dream. Have you ever considered pursuing it?”

I shake my head. “It’s not practical. I have a career in event planning. It’s what I’m good at. Farming is just a silly daydream.”

“Dreams aren’t silly,” he says firmly. “Especially not here in Evershift Haven. This is a place where dreams can become reality, if you’re brave enough to chase them.”

His words stir something in me, a longing I’ve tried to bury beneath practicality and expectations. “Maybe,” I say softly, “But it’s not like I can just quit my job and buy a farm.”

“Why not?” he asks. “Evershift Haven has some of the most fertile land in any realm, and we’re always looking for new farmers to help feed the magical community.”

I stare at him, considering the possibilities. “Are you serious?”

He nods with excitement. “Absolutely. In fact, there’s a plot of land not far from here that’s been lying fallow for years. It’s said to be blessed by earth sprites. With a little work, it could be transformed into a thriving farm. My family also has some land,” he says, almost shyly.

Excitement flares at the idea. “That would be wonderful, but I don’t know the first thing about magical farming, and I can’t just abandon my life in Chicago.”

“You could learn,” he says. “And as for Chicago... That’s a decision only you can make but know you’d be welcome here. More than welcome.”

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