Page 35

Randy

Two weeks have gone by since the movie. Two perfect weeks.

The pumpkin has gotten ridiculously big, surpassing Morty in height and approaching bush-sized territory. Speaking of Morty, the pumpkin has developed a divot at the top, a perfectly cat-sized spot where he likes to sleep.

It's quite the picture.

Will tends to the pumpkin every day, and as it grows bigger, I swear our bond grows stronger too.

The spell has manifested new requirements. Not only do we have to stay within thirty feet of each other and make physical contact at least every twenty minutes, but we have to compliment each other every day or we start sneezing uncontrollably, and we have to perform one act of service for each other or our hands go numb.

All in all, they're not bad little curses. I enjoy caring for Will, and there's never a shortage of features to compliment.

Autumn has fully settled on Moonfall. The leaves have turned brilliant shades of red, orange, and yellow. They fall from their branches and rustle across roofs and roads, creating their own harmony of sounds. Everything smells of damp earth and wood smoke. Dew gathers on the pumpkins lining the streets and sitting on stoops.

Tonight, the moon hangs overhead, its light glancing off the lake. Will's hand is warm in mine. His patchwork cap flops in the wind.

"Have you thought about what we're going to do once the spell ends?" Will asks quietly as we walk.

The timid question resonates in my bones.

I haven't. Not consciously, anyway. But it’s lingered in the periphery, and I’ve been refusing to acknowledge it.

For a moment, I resent Will for bringing it up, as though he's broken some unspoken rule.

I swallow and avoid his eyes. "No, not really."

"Oh."

The sound carries disappointment.

"The council landed on black and orange," I supply, desperately trying to change the subject.

I finally look at him and find him blinking at me, a crease between his brows.

"For the fall festival color scheme."

"Ah." He nods, his responses apparently reduced to simple interjections.

We walk in silence for a moment more before Will stops.

"Is it your cat?" he asks, and I'm completely lost.

"Is what my cat?"

"The reason you don't want to talk about next steps. Because I've really come to love Morty's company."

Before I can make another blunder in attempting to explain the mess in my head, Will points into the darkness of the lake behind me.

"What is that?"

I turn and see a light bobbing out on the water. As we stare, it draws closer and closer. I step forward, angling my body in front of Will's.

Finally, it draws close enough to shore that we can make it out.

It's a rowboat.

Inside is a person. Human, from the looks of her, headed straight for the island.