Page 20 of Howls & Harvest

Sorry. Caelan called. The weather has cleared enough that we can have the feast today. It obviously got cancelled last night. He needs new, dry wood for the wood-fired ovens, and you looked too peaceful to wake.

Ronan

I find my clothes from yesterday, neatly folded on his dryer, and dress as excitement builds for the upcoming Thanksgiving feast—and for seeing my lycan lover again.

The air crackles with anticipation while I make my way to the beautiful glen where the town has gathered. Autumn leaves dance on a gentle breeze, their vibrant hues a perfect backdrop for the festive decorations.

Pumpkins of every size and shape line the pathways, and some are carved with intricate designs that seem to shift when I’m not looking directly at them. Cornucopias overflow with an abundance of magical produce—shimmering apples, iridescent corn, and berries that sparkle like jewels.

I spot Grizelda near the center of the glen, her wild mane of silver-streaked purple hair moving as if it has a life of its own. She’s wearing flowing robes adorned with mysterious symbols that seem to glow faintly. As I approach, I notice her hand resting on her slightly rounded belly.

“Grizelda.” I say, waving. “Everything looks amazing.”

She turns, her vibrant purple eyes lighting up. “Candice, darling. So glad you could make it. Are you ready for a truly magical Thanksgiving?”

I laugh, still not entirely used to how casually everyone here uses the word ‘magical.’ “As ready as I’ll ever be. Is there anything with which I can help?”

She shakes her head, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Oh, no, dear. I’m feeling much better today and have something special planned. Just you wait and see.” She raises her arms, preparing to cast a spell, when suddenly, she turns pale. Her hands drop to her stomach and she sways slightly.

“Grizelda?” I ask, concerned. “Are you okay?”

She waves me off with one hand, the other still pressed to her belly. “I’m fine. Just a bit of morning sickness. Nothing to worry about. Now, where was I? Ah, yes, the enhancement spell for our feast.”

Before I can protest, she begins chanting in a language I don’t understand. The air around us shimmers and pulsates with energy, but something seems off. Her voice wavers, and the magical energy surrounding her flickers erratically.

Suddenly, chaos erupts.

A nearby apple pie levitates off its table, spinning like a frisbee before zooming away. I duck just in time to avoid being hit by it.

“Oh, my,” says Grizelda with surprise.

All around us, food comes to life. A giant bowl of mashed potatoes begins to bubble and expand, spilling over the edges of its container and oozing across the table like lava. Guests leap back, their shouts of surprise mingling with nervous laughter.

I watch in disbelief as a group of pumpkin pies rise into the air, hovering like a fleet of orange UFOs. They zip around, narrowly missing the heads of startled townsfolk.

“Grizelda,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm, “What’s happening?”

She looks both amused and embarrassed. “It seems my spell didn’t quite go as planned. Pregnancy does tend to affect a witch’s magic sometimes.” She lowers her voice, looking pained when she adds, “Especially at my age.”

A bread roll bounces past my feet, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs in its wake. I laugh at the absurdity of it all. “Should we try to catch the food?” I ask, eyeing a plate of green beans slithering across the grass like a snake.

She shakes her head, wearing a rueful grin. “That might make things worse. Let’s just enjoy the show, shall we? It’ll wear off...eventually.”

As if on cue, a turkey, still on its platter, stands up on its baked legs and begins to strut around, somewhat muffled-gobbling indignantly. Guests scramble out of its way, equal parts amused and alarmed.

I spot Ronan across the glen, trying to wrangle a group of escaping dinner rolls. Our gazes meet, and he grins, shrugging as if to say, “Just another day in Evershift Haven.”

A chorus of shrieks draws my attention. A massive gelatin mold has come to life, resembling a gelatinous blob monster from a B-movie. It oozes its way down the buffet table, absorbing smaller dishes in its path.

“Oh, dear,” murmurs Grizelda beside me. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

I turn to her, unable to keep the laughter from my voice. “What exactly was supposed to happen?”

She pats her belly absentmindedly. “I was trying to expand the portions. You know, a little magical boost to our Thanksgiving feast. I didn’t expect it to become quite so lively,” she says to Atlas, who puts a massive around her back, settling on the curve of her waist. “It’s mostly your fault, since you mademe pregnant, and that messes with my magic.” Her eyes twinkle as she says that.

He laughs, and it sounds like two boulders rubbing together. “I’ll take the blame for that.”

A cranberry sauce rocket whizzes past, leaving a trail of red splatters in its wake. I duck, narrowly avoiding a facial. “I can see that,” I say, wiping a stray cranberry from my cheek. “How long until this wears off?”

---