Page 3 of Howls & Harvest

Suzette nods, standing to take the basket. “Puckley, this is my sister, Candice. Candi, this is Puckley. She runs a magical farm on the outskirts of town.”

I stare at Puckley, taking in her otherworldly appearance. “Magical...farm?”

She cackles, and the sound reminds me of wind through autumn leaves. “Oh, yes. Where else would you get singing carrots and mood-changing lettuce?”

I look to Suzette for explanation, but she just shrugs. “Puckley’s produce is the best in town. Wait until you try her giggling butternut squash.”

Puckley beams at the compliment, then turns her attention back to me. “So, newcomer, what do you think of our little haven?”

I open and close my mouth several times, struggling to find words. “I... it’s... I don’t know what to think,” I finally manage.

The old woman’s eyes soften with understanding. “Ah, it’s always a shock at first, but you’ll see, dearie. Evershift Haven has a way of growing on you.”

As if to emphasize her point, a tendril of ivy snakes its way down from the ceiling, curling affectionately around her shoulders. She pats it absently, like one would pet a cat.

“I should be going,” she says, heading for the door. “Lots to do before the feast.”

With that, she toddles out, leaving me more confused than ever. “Suzette, I think I’m going to need a lot more tea.”

Chapter 2

I SIT ON SUZETTE’Scozy couch, my mind reeling from everything I’ve seen since arriving in Evershift Haven. The quaint town square with its cobblestone streets, the floating decorations, and the unusual residents—it all seems like something out of a fairytale. I’m still not entirely convinced I haven’t fallen asleep and dreamed up this whole bizarre scenario.

The sound of a key turning in the lock jolts me from my thoughts.

Suzette, who’d been puttering around in the kitchen, pokes out her head. “That’ll be Throk,” she says with a smile. “He’s just getting home from work.”

The door swings open, and I freeze. A massive figure ducks to enter the apartment, and my jaw drops. He’s enormous—at least six-five, with broad shoulders and muscles that strain against his T-shirt, but it’s not just his size that leaves me speechless. His skin is a deep forest green, with intricate darker green markings swirling across his exposed arms. Small tusks protrude slightly from his lower lip as he smiles. He doesn’t look at all Scandinavian.

“Hey, Suz,” he calls out, his voice a deep rumble that seems to vibrate through the room. “How was your day?”

She emerges from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Pretty good. We’ve got company—my sister Candice is here.”

Throk’s amber-eyed gaze locks onto me, and his smile widens. “Ah, Candice. Suzette’s told me so much about you. I thought you were coming tomorrow though.”

Suzette shakes her head. “I even put it on your calendar.” She smacks him lightly on the butt with that admonishment, making his cheeks turn a darker green.

I try to respond, but my voice seems to have abandoned me. All I can do is stare, looking between his green skin, his tusks, and his pointed ears. This has to be an incredibly elaborate costume, right? But as he moves further into the room, the way his skin shifts and the natural way his tusks move as he speaks... It all looks far too real.

“I’m Throk,” he says, extending a massive hand toward me. “It’s great to finally meet you.”

I reach out automatically, finding my hand engulfed by his. His skin is warm and slightly textured but nothing like the latex of a costume. “H-hi,” I manage to stammer out. “Nice to meet you too.”

He settles into an armchair across from me, the furniture creaking slightly under his weight. “What do you think of Evershift Haven so far? Quite a change from the human world, huh?”

My mind races. Human world? Does that mean... “Are you... I mean, is this...” I struggle to find the right words.

Suzette steps in, perching on the arm of Throk’s chair. “Candice, remember how I mentioned that Evershift Haven is a town for magical beings? Throk is an orc.”

“An orc,” I repeat faintly. “Like from fantasy stories?”

He chuckles. “Those stories got some things right and a lot wrong. We’re not the mindless brutes humans often portray us as.”

I lean forward, curiosity beginning to override my shock. “So you’re really... I mean, this isn’t a costume or anything?”

“Nope, one hundred percent genuine orc,” he says, flexing an arm playfully. The muscles ripple under his green skin, the tribal-like markings shifting with the movement.

“Wow. I... I don’t even know what to say. This is incredible.”

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