Page 89 of Mate Night Snack
"Testing, testing," she said into her new microphone, the one designed specifically for outdoor recording. "This is Katniss Hollowell, and welcome toHidden Wonders, where we explore the magic hiding in plain sight in small towns across America."
The name still gave her a little thrill. Not just the show title, though she was proud of whatHidden Wondershad become in the six months since its launch, but her last name. Katniss Hollowell. It felt right in a way she hadn't expected, like claiming a piece of home she'd never known she was missing.
"Today we're talking to Sarah from Montana, who discovered her ability to communicate with ravens after moving to a town that doesn't appear on any official maps. Sarah, are you there?"
"I'm here," came the nervous voice through her headphones. "And thank you so much for taking my call. I've been listening toyour show since the beginning, and it's... it's helped me feel less alone."
Katniss smiled, settling deeper into the swing's comfortable embrace. This was the part of her new work that she loved most, the moment when someone realized they weren't broken or crazy, just different in ways the world hadn't taught them to celebrate yet.
"Tell me about your ravens," she said gently.
For the next hour, she guided Sarah through her story with the skill of someone who'd learned to listen not just to words but to the emotions beneath them. How the young woman had fled to the wilderness after a painful divorce, how the ravens had started visiting her isolated cabin, how she'd slowly realized their caws carried meaning, intention, sometimes even warnings.
"The thing is," Sarah said, her voice growing stronger as the conversation progressed, "I used to think I was losing my mind. But your show, hearing about other people with gifts like this... it made me understand that maybe I wasn't broken. Maybe I was just waking up."
"That's exactly right," Katniss replied, watching a cardinal land on the porch railing as if it wanted to eavesdrop. "Magic doesn't make us broken. It makes us aware of connections that were always there."
After the interview ended and she'd wrapped the episode, Katniss set aside her equipment and stretched, working out the kinks that came from sitting still too long. The familiar weight of contentment settled in her chest, the satisfaction of work that mattered combined with the simple joy of being exactly where she belonged.
"How'd it go?" Emmett asked, appearing at the bottom of the porch steps with dirt on his hands and that soft smile that still made her stomach flutter.
"Beautiful. Sarah's going to be fine. She just needed to know she wasn't alone." Katniss patted the space beside her on the swing. "Come sit with me. Tell me about your morning."
He settled beside her with a contented sigh, automatically pulling her close so she could curl against his side. The protective sigils beneath her skin hummed with pleasure at the contact, still as active as they'd been on their wedding night six months ago.
"Fixed the fence around Miriam's vegetable garden," he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Helped Callum move some furniture for the new guest who's arriving tomorrow. And I may have gotten roped into building a chicken coop for the Tansley brothers."
"A chicken coop?"
"Apparently Edgar's convinced that chickens will improve the shop's feng shui. Or maybe it was Rufus. I can never tell which brother is pursuing which bizarre hobby at any given time."
Katniss laughed, the sound bright in the spring air. "I love this place."
"Even when it's completely insane?"
"Especially then."
They swayed gently on the swing, watching the afternoon light shift through the trees. This had become their ritual, this quiet time between the end of her recording sessions and whatever evening plans the town had in store for them. Sometimes they talked about their work, sometimes they planned improvements to the cabin or the garden, sometimes they just sat in comfortable silence and watched the world turn green around them.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Katniss said, reaching for the notebook she kept beside her laptop. "Jenny from Oregon emailed. She wants to set up a call for next week's show."
"The one with the water spirits?"
"That's her. Turns out there's a whole network of them along the coast, and she's become something like an informal ambassador." She flipped through pages covered with her careful handwriting, interviews scheduled, story ideas noted, connections mapped between the growing community of people who'd found her show. "It's amazing how many of them there are, Emmett. People with gifts, people in towns like ours, all thinking they were alone."
"Not anymore, thanks to you."
"Thanks to us," she corrected. "I couldn't do this without Hollow Oak as my base. Without the community's support, without their stories to draw from, without you keeping me grounded."
The show had grown beyond anything she'd imagined when she'd first started. What began as a way to use her platform for positive stories had evolved into something more like a supernatural support network. People called in not just to share their experiences but to ask for advice, to find others like them, to learn how to live with gifts they'd never asked for.
Her seer abilities, now stable and controllable thanks to the protective magic she shared with Emmett, had become invaluable for reading between the lines of these conversations. She could sense when someone was holding back out of fear, when they needed encouragement versus practical advice, when they were ready to embrace their gifts versus when they just needed to know they weren't losing their minds.
"I've been thinking," she said, watching a butterfly land on the porch railing. "About expanding. Maybe hosting some kind of gathering, bringing people together in person."
"Here?"
"Not necessarily here specifically, but somewhere safe. Somewhere people could meet others like them, shareexperiences, learn from each other." She turned to look at him, gauging his reaction. "What do you think?"
