Honey took a deep breath before responding. "I went to Leahnora to find out the meaning behind her cryptic message to me a year ago, when we were investigating Lily’s murder. I just learned I have a sister out there somewhere. I have to find her before she comes to Cauldron Falls."
Rhoda and Edgar exchanged astounded looks.
“What are you talking about, Honey?” Edgar took his daughter’s trembling hand in his.
She told them of Leahnora's mystical revelation. They listened with a mix of shock and knowing.
Rhoda sighed, “I always knew you were looking for someone when you stared out into the distance beyond the woods. Remember Edgar? When she was little, how she’d go to the woods and call for her ‘Bunny’?”
Edgar nodded. “I thought you were just playing a game with your dolls. The bunny and bear never left your side when you were small.”
“I remember. It’s fuzzy, like a black and white movie. But it’s there.” Honey felt for the necklace around her neck. The one with the silver bar engraved with Martha. “I bet she has one of these, maybe?”
The room fell silent.
“We love you and think you are so brave.” Rhoda paused.
"Are you sure this is what you must do?" Edgar finally said, blinking back tears of his own.
Honey nodded firmly. "I've never been more certain. My heart is calling me to find her.”
Rhoda cupped Honey's face tenderly. "Then you have our blessing. We are here for you, whatever you need."
Honey clung to them tightly before stepping back and taking Roam's hand. "I'll have Roam with me. We’re going to start with the woods, since that is where I lost her."
Watching their daughter start on another perilous quest, Rhoda and Edgar held each other close.
Glancing at her distraught parents, Roam added, "And I give you my oath that no harm will come to your daughter under my watch." He placed a hand over his heart. "You have entrusted me with your greatest treasure. I will protect her with my life."
Fresh tears sprang to Honey's eyes. Impulsively, she threw her arms around the tall shifter. Rhoda and Edgar exchanged an approving look.
Composing herself, Honey stepped back and smiled. "Before we just jump into the wild. I think we should start by examining the scroll that Leahnora gave me, but we’re going to need help. Lots of help from our friends.”
“I’ll make the muffins.” Edgar smiled and snapped his fingers, filling the island with pastries.
Dead Man Walking (His Beat)
The full moon illuminated Cauldron Falls Cemetery, showcasing aged tombstones and the shadowy form of Butcher, the zombie caretaker. Despite being a typical zombie with decaying skin stretched over bones, sunken eyes, and tattered clothes, Butcher took pride in his cemetery, checking each plot and monument.
His nightly rounds, a comforting ritual for decades, involved a slow, careful stroll through the cemetery's winding paths, ensuring the headstones remained upright and occasionally acknowledging the deceased. Most nights were peacefully silent, occasionally punctuated by an owl's hoot or the rustle of a forest creature.
Having watched over aged tombstones for many years, Butcher was not easily startled. Countless full moons had cast their ethereal glow on him as he bore witness to a variety of strange happenings, including ghostly figures dancing between graves, shapeshifters morphing into mythical forms, and secretive warlocks chanting near the cemetery.
Rasping an evening greeting to the ornately engraved headstone of Mrs. Mills, he delicately brushed away the scattered leaves with his thin fingers. "Garden club meeting tomorrow. I hear they're discussing night-blooming roses. Right up your alley."
He carried on with his unhurried stroll, halting by an unassuming gray stone bearing the inscription "Lily McBride, Adored Orchardist and Friend." He patted the top of the hard slab of marble. "Evening, Miss Lily. Moon's waxing, nearly full tonight," Butcher murmured. "Reminds me of your orchard. I sure do miss you." The memory gave him pause. Lily died shortly before the last major event in Cauldron Falls. The last murder. The thought chilled Butcher with a strange feeling. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling his decaying skin tingling as if being pricked by countless tiny needles.
Midway through the cemetery, a strange rustling sound disturbed the quiet of the night, emanating from a far corner. Butcher paused, tilting his head to listen closely. There was additional rustling, a quiet thump, and then the sound of deep, ragged breathing---almost like sobbing. This something was far from ordinary. Butcher was familiar enough with the dead to spot the behavior of the living when they entered his domain.
"Hello? Cemetery's closed to the living after sundown," he called out, lumbering toward the disturbance with more purpose than his usual patrol, his joints softly creaking.
He arrived at the cemetery's oldest part, where the town's founding families lay buried. There, stumbling between the markers, was a figure---a woman with tangled hair and tattered clothes. Moving unsteadily, as if hurt or confused, she weaved a path between the monuments.
As Butcher drew closer, he could see more clearly in the moonlight. Her clothes weren't just tattered---they were shredded in places, revealing angry red welts and deep scratchesalong her arms. Dark bruises mottled her exposed skin, some fresh, others yellowed with age. Her feet were bare and bloodied, leaving faint crimson prints on the cemetery grass.
"Excuse me," Butcher called, approaching cautiously. "The living aren't permitted after dark. Safety regulations." Despite his official-sounding warning, concern colored his tone. Something was wrong; she wasn't your average trespasser.
The woman spun at his voice, her entire body jerking as if struck. Her eyes were wild, darting frantically from shadow to shadow, never settling on any one point. She pressed herself against a tall headstone, her fingers clawing at the marble as if trying to merge with it.
