Meadow put a spoon in my hand (Patreon)

as I stared, horrified, at the steaming pan of baked and seasoned pumpkin flesh. Every terrifying experience in my entire life combined did not match even a tenth of the stomach-churning dread twisting knots in my gut at this very moment. What to do? Was there a way out of this? Should I play dead? Was it too late to go back to living in that stone circle in the woods? I would have to magickally immolate myself; that was the only way!

“Well, come on, Adler honey," Burnside coaxed, waggling the pan at me seductively. "You want some or not?”

“I’sh reallah goo’,” Meadow mumbled, her mouth still full.

"Is this the same spoon you just used?" I asked, hoping to stall.

"Mm-mm," Meadow shook her head and held up her own spoon.

"Burnside stuck her finger in this," I pointed out. "That can't be sanitary."

"I warshed ma hands just yesterday," Burnside protested. "Sides I only touched this here corner. The rest's still good."

Wait! Of course! In my panicked state I had immediately gone to the worst case scenario. There was no need to be so melodramatic! I could simply say: No thank you. Crisis averted.

“I fantasized about this moment for so many years," Thomson sighed, as her hysterical fit began to subside. "The day Adler came to rescue me from this hell, I would make him my favorite dish. Oh, but Mr. Calaveras, what if he doesn’t like it? Yes, you're right, that would completely emotionally destroy me.”

Rebecca patted Thomson's arm and gave me a beseeching look.

"Hold on," I blurted in one final desperate attempt. "You said you had canned pumpkin in your food stash. If it was salvaged from the Royal pantry, this place has been cut off from the rest of Faerie for centuries. What was the expiration date on that can?"

Meadow and Burnside both glanced nervously at Thomson.

"It was Imperial Reserve," the Floozy explained. "Magickally preserved and guaranteed fresh forever, until the seal is broken. The seal was intact. I'm always very careful. I have to be. There's nothing else to eat. And Mr. Calaveras always double checks."

Meadow and Burnside turned back to stare at me.

I mentally recited a silent prayer to Fuma: Why me? I gazed down at the orange and lightly browned mush and composed a Gramarye to make it as harmless as possible. I took a shuddering breath as I scooped up a frighteningly generous helping and shakily steered the diabolical delicacy towards my mouth. Staring down General Bonsai again would be preferable to doing this, and that was saying something.

Time seemed to slow down as I closed my mouth around the spoon.

Horror, nightmares, unending suffering! This was what flashed through my mind as the pumpkin casserole made contact with my taste-buds. With a herculean effort, I reached deep into the part of myself that was a fierce, fearless scion of Irenaeus, and managed to keep a straight face. (No doubt the dish was well-made for what it was, but I just really, really HATE pumpkin. The seasonal emergence of pumpkin-flavored treats has always been a grim reminder that Winter, and the Kringle, are on their way.) I stalwartly suppressed my gag reflex as I swallowed the vile lump of squash. I could feel it slither down my gullet and churn unwelcomely in my stomach acids. I forced a smile and patted my belly. “Thank you, Thomson. It was very… nourishing, I'm sure.”

“Wonderful!" Thomson beamed. "Now let’s eat the rest of it.”

"You'll need place settings for five!" I insisted. "Burnside can make the perilous journey to the pantry to fetch plates and cutlery."

"No need," Thomson giggled. "I already have them, and Mr. Calaveras has set the table."

I turned to look as she gestured, and sure enough, there were five places set around the small table. We all took our seats, and Thomson doled out generous portions of casserole to each of us.

"I'm so delighted to have guests at last," Thomson declared giddily. "How wonderful that none of you have gaping wounds, and there's nary a bloodcurdling scream to be heard! Eat up now!"

"Thank you so much for your hospitality," Rebecca chirped as she tried a spoonful of casserole. "OH! This is delicious!"

"You seem remarkably Seelie for a witch," Meadow observed.

“My lord," Rebecca said to me. "Are you all right?"

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