Page 47 of Mistletoe

“Those are for me,” Emma lied.

“Those trousers are a foot too long for your legs. You’re making clothes, so it must be serious. I needed to know how serious.”

“Ma—” Emma didn’t know where to start with her mother.

“What I said is nothing compared to what others will say. You bring home a green monster?—”

“An orc. He’s an orc.”

“You bring home an orc,” Agatha amended, “I want to know if you’ll fight for your orc.”

“He’s not my orc.”

“Whatever you say, petal. Now, how broad are his shoulders?” Agatha held out her hands to demonstrate their width. Emma moved her hands until they reached a good approximation. “I’ll start knitting. Felix’s clothes can’t be comfortable, and everyone needs a sweater.”

“What about Pa? Are you going to tell him about Hal?” Emma knew her mother would be accepting, once she got over the shock. Her father, however, had a deep resentment toward beasts and monsters since being attacked.

“It’s a shame to keep someone a secret, petal,” Agatha said. “Hal deserves better.”

“So yes, you’re going to tell him.”

“No. You’re going to tell him.”

Hal

Mistletoe Farm

North Pasture

Hal had spentthe last week observing the De Lacey family and their routines. He noted their day began before dawn, what tasks were completed first, their activities during the day, and how they filled the evening hours.

From the outside, the stone house radiated cozy warmth and the occupants good cheer. Perhaps he had idolized the family, imagining harmony because he did not witness discord, but nothing he saw dismissed his good opinion of the family.

How strange it felt to now walk at Emma’s side as she pointed out all the details his reconnaissance missed. A good strange. Their encounters before had been brief, a few words exchanged hurriedly. Now, he had the time and pleasure to speak with her at his leisure. Mostly, he listened. He enjoyed her narration, direct without being rude, and he delighted in the sound of her voice.

Especially when she said his name, like his name was made for her voice.

“This pasture is native tall grass,” Emma said, opening a gate to allow the goats passage into the north pasture. A cluster of trees grew along a creek that signaled the boundary of the farm’s property and a stone fence that surrounded the pasture.

The goats scattered across the pasture, kicking up their heels and digging in the snow for clumps of grass. As he and Emma walked, the herd followed in chaotic fashion.

“The terraformers never reached this far. Any Earth plant you find was planted by hand. Most of the local Nexus flora is harmless, but be careful. Those trees—” Emma pointed to a cluster of spindly-looking trees with bare branches. “They produce oil. They’re highly flammable. I’m not saying you can’t chop them up for firewood, but you don’t want them near our fireplace or stove. One stray spark, and they’re burning like no tomorrow.”

She pointed to a set of tracks in the snow. “Wolvers. Apparently, they’re like Earth wolverines.”

“Appearance-wise or attitude?” Hal asked.

“Are wolverines short lizards that dig in the ground and will bite your foot off if you step in a burrow?”

“The biting sounds right, but honestly, I have no idea.”

The herd of ostrich-looking birds were, in fact, ratites. “Dumb as a pile of bricks. Most of the time, they’re gentle, but they frighten easily. If that happens, the whole herd panics,” Emma explained. “You do not want to get trampled. They have razor-sharp talons on their feet.”

The birds were tall enough to stand at his mid-chest. He could easily imagine being overwhelmed by a fast-moving, panicking herd.

“Are they good eating?” he asked.

“They don’t have a lot of meat on their bones, but you can in a pinch.” Emma shielded her eyes with her hand, scanning the horizon. “The first winter we lived on the farm, we were in a pinch. I got real good with the bow.”

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