Page 4 of Howls & Harvest

Suzette grins. “I know it’s a lot to take in. I was pretty overwhelmed when I first discovered all this too. I thought it was a touristy town going way overboard for Halloween. Now, the town has transformed itself for Thanksgiving.”

“Town...transformed itself?” I turn to my sister. “And you...you’re okay with all this? Dating an orc?”

“Hey, now,” he interjects, his tone light but with a hint of steel underneath, “I may be an orc, but I’m still a person. Species doesn’t define who we are any more than race does for humans.”

My cheeks heat up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean... This is just all so new to me.”

His expression softens. “No offense taken. I understand it’s a shock. Most humans don’t react nearly as well as you are.”

“How did you two meet?” I ask, genuinely curious now that the initial shock is wearing off.

Suzette laughs. “Would you believe his garage was almost the first place I stumbled into when I accidentally crossed into Evershift Haven? My car had broken down—magical interference, apparently—and Throk fixed Vivi for me.”

Throk grins, his tusks glinting in the light. “She was so confused.” The way he looks at my sister makes my heart melt a little. Despite his intimidating appearance, there’s such gentleness in his eyes. He’s like a big green teddy bear...er, orc.

“So,” I say, resting into the couch. “Tell me more about orcs. Are you all mechanics? Do you have special magical powers?”

Throk laughs. “Not all orcs are mechanics, no. Many of us do have an affinity for working with our hands. As for magic...most beings in Evershift have some magical ability, but it varies widely.”

“What can you do?” I ask eagerly.

He shrugs. “Nothing flashy. Sorry. I have an innate sense of how things, particularly machines—magical or mundane—fit together. It’s rather common among orcs. Comes in handy in the garage.”

“Huh. I can see why you’re a mechanic.” Part of me marvels that I’m having even a semblance of a normal conversation.

Suzette stands up. “Now that the introductions are out of the way, who’s hungry?”

Throk’s stomach rumbles. “Oh, I forgot Candice was coming today. Sorry.” He nods to me. “Ronan is dropping by some firewood, and I invited him to stay for dinner.”

My sister smiles. “The more the merrier.” She looks at me. “Why don’t you get settled in the loft? It looks like part of the gills in the rafter, but there’s an actual room up there.”

I nod, still trying to process everything I’ve seen and heard in the last few hours. “Sure, I’ll get settled in.” I stand up, wobbling a little. “Loft, you said?”

She points to a ladder tucked against the far wall. “Yep, just climb up there. The room’s bigger than it looks from down here.” She looks around. “I’ll ask Throk to bring in your luggage. I guess we forgot about it.”

I nod, thinking my bags were the last thing on my mind earlier. I approach the ladder, eyeing it skeptically. It seems to blend seamlessly with the wooden beams of the ceiling, almost as if it’s grown out of the wall itself. I place my hand on the first rung, surprised by its warmth. The wood pulses faintly beneath my palm, almost like a heartbeat.

“Um, Suzette?” I call over my shoulder. “Is this ladder...alive?”

My sister laughs. “Sort of. It’s enchanted wood. It won’t let you fall.”

I inhale and start climbing. As I ascend, the ladder seems to adjust to my movements, the rungs shifting slightly to provide the perfect footholds. When I reach the top, I gasp.

The loft is indeed much larger than it appeared from below. It’s a cozy space with slanted ceilings and a large round window that looks out over what seems to be an endless forest. The walls are lined with bookshelves filled with leather-bound tomes, their titles written in scripts I don’t recognize. A plush bed sits in one corner, covered in a patchwork quilt that shimmers faintly in the soft light filtering through the window.

“This is amazing,” I whisper, running my hand along the spines of the books. One quivers at my touch, and I snatch back my hand.

“Everything okay up there?” she calls.

“Yeah, just adjusting,” I say, my voice trembling.

I sink onto the bed, mind whirling. This has to be some kind of elaborate prank or immersive experience, right? Maybe Suzette signed me up for one of those mystery weekends, where you play along with actors in a fictional scenario, but the warmth of the ladder, the subtle movements of the books, the impossible view from the window... it all feels real.

A soft chime echoes through the loft, and I jump. A shimmering image appears in the air before me—a clock face showing it’s nearly six p.m.

“Dinner will be ready soon.” Suzette’s voice floats up from below. “Come on down when you’re ready.”

I stand up though my legs are still unsteady. “This isn’t real,” I mutter to myself. “It can’t be real.” But as I descend the ladder, which once again adjusts to my movements, I find it harder and harder to cling to that belief. The cottage’s warmth seeps into my bones, a comforting presence that feels undeniably magical.

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