Bonus: Winter Special story- White Harvest

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[This is an entry into the Winter Special Anthology, a collection of non-canonical stories featuring the characters from our stories. The stories are collected by the AdventureCommunity and posted on their page.

For my entry, I thought it would be nice to have a look at what a winter festival would be like at Evan's family castle. Being a non-canonical story separate from the Island Legends series, I decided to include Evan's parents (who are not alive at the start of the main story) and have James and Sam there also. 

Thanks for reading!] 


White Harvest

Heavy wool-lined boots crunched on the crisp leaves of the snowy forest floor.

James Island brought his elbows in and the harpoon rifle closer to his chest to keep the cold away. Despite his heavy coats, padded gloves, and fur cloak, the winter chill of the Obbiwood managed to send cold shivers through him.

Tufts of snow fell from the trees above, drawing his eye and the rifle tip. He stopped and strained to hear any approaching threats, his short breaths casting heavy mists before him.

A rush of air came from behind. James turned to see a cloaked figure flying down towards him. A heavy green cloak flared in the stranger's wake, a grey and black beard reaching out from a fur-lined hood. A long harpoon rifle turned on James and from its end shot out a grey ball which unspooled towards him.

Before James could react, the expanding net enveloped him and sent him to the ground.

His bearded opponent landed swiftly and approached, keeping his rifle trained on James.

Crunching boot steps came from behind him and through the latticed net, James saw the heavily cloaked form of Evan Goodheart. The young voarn held his own rifle towards him, his tense brows narrowing his large shimmering cat-like eyes.

Panting heavily, James looked between his two captors and their sharp-tipped rifles. It was all over now. 

A bark of laughter rose from the bearded man's furred hood, his broad shoulders heaving. Evan's expression lightened and he too laughed with gleeful merriment.

Pulling back his hood, the bearded man revealed his long mane of messy black hair. He loosened the net and helped James up, still chuckling.

"So much for our Canarrian hero," he bellowed, smacking James on the back.

James steadied himself and tried to smile despite his discomfort. He had told Evan's uncle, Banando, that not only was he not a Canarrian, but also not to be considered a hero. Even so, the King's eldest brother seemed to enjoy teasing James every chance he got.

"No match for seasoned voarn hunters," Evan said with pride colouring his voice.

"Yeah, ah... well played." James rubbed his shoulder, trying another weak smile.

When he and Sam had accepted Evan's offer of spending time with his family during the Alour-Fyse Festival, an end-of-year celebration of the Goodheart's royal rule, James did not consider how bizarre the voarn's traditions could be.

Banando tensed and raised his rifle, studying the snow covered trees. "It appears our final foe has come to us, the bold scoundrel."

As James wondered what he meant, Evan fell with a net cast around him. A red cloaked figure shot through the air over them. Banando spun and released his net, catching the flying figure.

The bundle of heavy red coats that was Sam Hawkings rolled into a trunk, leaving a muddy trail through the snow.

Banando's hearty laugh reverberated in the air. "Admirable, young Oneron. You are truly gifted, yet no match for us voarn, it appears."

Sam worked his rifle through the net's holes and twisted free from a widening gap, which seemed to impress Evan's uncle. "I thought it only polite to let our gracious hosts win, of course."

Banando chuckled. "Oh aye, for sure, lad. Come now, the day moves on, and we have more festivities to enjoy."

They made their way out of the forest and through the snowy fields towards the Goodheart Castle.

After a hot shower and a change of clothes, James walked through the carpeted halls of Evan's parent's castle.

In the main kitchen - a warm room big enough to comfortably fit four large trucks -  James was bombarded with loud talk and robust laughs. Dozens of staff in olive-green uniforms rushed about, removing trays from the chest-high ovens and loading plates with various dishes. Queen Leolea and her two sisters decorated fist-sized meat balls while they cheerfully chatted away. A long-faced elderly lady – the Queen's aunt, if James remembered correctly – scolded two young boys who were rushing about, squealing in their youthful exuberance. A young girl with golden curls sat in the corner, her arms crossed and a dramatic frown on her pale face.

Sam sat at a counter, talking spiritedly with a stout red-haired lady and a tall dark-haired lady, who both seemed captivated with him. Sam certainly knew how to get along well with anyone, James noted.

Evan rose from behind the counter, glass cups in his hands, and called James over.

The voarn was the happiest James had ever seen him. Spending time with his family and loved ones had certainly given Evan high spirits, emphasising his youthful vigour. While James was happy for his friend, a dark longing tugged at him, deep down. He had no memories of any such family gatherings, and as far as he knew, both his parents no longer lived. He would never know the joy and warmth of such family events. But he told himself not to dwell on that and try to enjoy the moment of the present.

"James, ol mou," the Queen said as he approached them. "Almost time for supper now. Help yourself to some red fingers." James resisted making a sour face at the plate of meat pies she gestured to. He was not in a rush to savour their overly spiced taste again. So far he had yet to enjoy any of the strange foods and flavours he had tried in the few days they had been in Therapia. Every taste overwhelmed and bombarded his sense. 

He joined Evan and Sam. Even though Sam knew James had met the King's sisters-in-law already, he introduced them by name – Veseena and Memusha – perhaps sensing that James had forgotten their names. James made his best attempt at small-talk and giving good impressions. He tried to ignore the tremor in his heart at being around so many people who were focused on him. He was too used to being on his own. 

One of the young boys darted past, his pointed ears sticking out from the long dark hair flowing behind him. The Queen handed him a decorated meatball and patted his forehead. The boy beamed at her and showed his mother, Memusha, who everyone called Mem.

Evan's eyes widened in shock. "No, no, why did he get it? I always get the first yaousy."

The Queen gave him a warm smile. "Evan-ol, Dale is just a young boy. It does not matter who gets the first one. Here, have this one."

"No! Only the first one is blessed, everyone knows that."

"Come now, Evan-ol, you are too old to believe that."

"But I always get the first one."

His mother plated several of the meatballs and placed them on the counter, along with smaller decorated plates, and said no more. James was once again reminded how young Evan was, in relation to the lifespans of his people. 

A warm perfume caught James' attention. He turned to see a tall girl with long black curls cascading down her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face. She placed an empty tray in a nearby cabinet and straightened. Long lashes framed the large eyes that locked onto James. Her shy smile pressed her cheeks up.

"Thank you, Midalla ol-mou," the Queen soothed. "Would you be a gem and chop a small salad boat for the E'Lorume's."

Mida happily did as she was asked while giving James another small smile. After a brief and successful conversation with her earlier, she seemed to have taken a shine to him, fascinated by the descriptions of Carnan and Tyken Town. He found himself warming to her the more time he spent with her.

"Throw bowls," the Queen muttered to herself, looking around. "Evan-ol, could you fetch a few throw-bowls from the green cellar?"

Evan dropped from his stool, keeping the stern look on his face, and marched out of the kitchen with his arms swinging.

Making his way to the west wing hallway, Evan came to the side of the large curving staircase that housed the cellar door. He remembered being scared of the green cellar when he was younger, believing it to hold evil creatures, but now he saw it for the harmless small room that it was.

He opened the round wooden door and paused. Voices could be heard down the stairs inside.

"I understand your concerns." It was his father's voice, speaking in a hushed tone. "But I have given this a lot of thought and have made my decision."

"Very well, my liege." Evan couldn't determine the second male voice. "In that case, I would be honoured to take the throne from you. It would be my family's highest honour."

"Thank you, Stal. After the festival, I will announce my stepping down."

Sounds faded for Evan as he took in his father's words, his heart racing. They were going to leave the kingdom? In a fit of confusion and anger, he raced up the main staircase towards his room with tears flooding his eyes.

"Supper is ready," the Queen announced to the kitchen. She asked her staff to ring the bell for the others.

Sam followed the crowd to the dining table. He noticed James watched the young girl Mida, and saw his disappointment when she did not sit near him. The Queen's pale and gaunt aunt, Ezaldine, spoke to Sam as they sat. She seemed to enjoy his attention.

The King asked a staff member to call Evan to the table.

The children laughed and pushed each other to their seats, reminding Sam of his old family dinners. His throat caught when he thought of his younger brother, longing to have him back.

The long table seated all twenty-seven guests, including the children on the far end. Strange and colourful food, extravagantly displayed in towers and flared arrangements, filled the cloth-covered table along with tall candles and wrapped bundles beside each plate.

"This'll warm ya up!" Evan's other uncle, Baspi, poured a rich red liquid into Sam's goblet, and continued down the table, patting shoulders and making jokes.

Evan's neatly combed hair bobbed past the chairs. He sat himself next to his father at the end of the table, opposite his mother. He crossed his arms solemnly, looking into the distance with a severe, distracted look. Sam wondered what was bothering him so much. 

A young boy patted Sam's arm - the one they called Baby Sef. He pointed a stubby finger to an electronic toy and held it up to him. Sam took the beeping toy and stared at it curiously. The boy smiled and ran off. The spinning top of the toy brought a sudden dark memory to Sam, reminding him of a flashing infantry tower surrounded by dead soldiers. His stomach tightened and the room began to spin.

"The past does not let you go," an elderly voice said. 

Sam turned to Evan's aunt next to him. She was giving him a kindly, motherly look. He rubbed his eyes. "What was that?"

"I see the pain in your eyes, child. You are chained to a terrible past."

"I... I'm just not used to family gatherings."

"You are uncomfortable with happiness. You feel you do not deserve happiness, after all the blood you have shed. Everything you have seen and done."

Sam swallowed through a dry throat. "That's some gift you have."

"Listen to me, child. The past can no longer hurt you, unless you let it. Allowing the past to control your future is no way to live your life. You owe it to your future family and loved ones. Take it from me."

Sam met the old woman's warm eyes and nodded. He knew she was right. 

Evan ignored his father when he offered him a plate of green forr'shar beans. He couldn't help but wonder if this would be their last big family meal in the castle. They wouldn't be celebrating next year, not after his father gave up the kingdom. He tried to imagine what the future held, knowing that nothing would be the same ever again.

Tentatively, James tried a long purple potato, and was pleasantly surprised with the subtly sweet taste. Finally, he'd found something he liked. Looking up, he caught Mida's eye. She smiled at him before looking away shyly. James froze a moment, considering the look. 

Maybe he could get used to family gatherings, after all. 



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