Page 7 of Horsemen and Hot Chocolate

For several excruciating moments, an oppressive silence stretched between them. Katrina’s knees threatened to buckle. Perhaps this was a mistake. Every rational thought begged her to run and never look back, but she steadied the fear swarming her insides. She had sought out the Headless Horseman for a reason, and he, the legend of Sleepy Hollow, answered her call.

With a practiced, forced smile, she turned to her charms, summoned the dregs of her courage, and prayed they would come to her aid.

“Good evening. My name is Katrina Van Tassel, and I wish to thank you,” she started, her voice waning into a whisper. “For saving me last night.”

The Horseman tilted forward as if studying her with curiosity. The wind whipped around her, and she caught the scent of autumn leaves and a slightly sweet, earthy aroma. Clutching her cloak, she stepped back when the horse began stamping its feet. The Horseman patted its strong neck, soothing the steed before leaning back.

Katrina’s breath caught in her throat as the Horseman raised the pumpkin and settled it onto the base of his neck. The yellow light within flared. Her eyes widened as the jagged grin shifted, and the triangular eyes narrowed, then blinked. The mouth pressed into a thin line, transforming the pumpkin into something uncanny and alive.

“I—” she began, staring at the way the pumpkin—no, he—blinked. However, the reminder of her encounter with the Horseman and Ichabod was not lost on her. “I also wished to speak with you about other matters. In return, I brought something for you.” Reaching into her pockets, she retrieved the still-warm flasks and extended one.

One of the brow slits raised.

“I was unsure whether this was a good idea. You are a ghost after all, but I did not wish to presume you wouldn’t want it either—” she rambled.

The Horseman uncapped the canteen and lifted it to his triangular nose. His eyes widened a fraction. “Hot chocolate?”

The deep voice rumbled in his chest, and her mouth parted in surprise. She hadn’t known if he could speak or understand much of what she was saying.

“I know it’s silly, but hot chocolate always makes me feel better. And there’s nothing like sharing a nice cup of chocolate with someone who saved you.”

The Horseman stared at the canteen, unmoving and silent. She wondered if she had offended him or if he could consume anything without a head, but then he lifted his strange, pumpkin gaze and graced her with a small smile.

Chapter five

Katrina Van Tassel was having hot chocolate with the Headless Horseman.

She had never imagined such a scenario could happen, yet there she was, sitting on a fallen log in the forest with a headless ghost. His intimidating steed munched on some foliage that had survived the frost, and the Horseman sat a comfortable distance beside her.

Katrina sipped from the canteen and eyed him as he lifted the metal to his pumpkin mouth. The liquid went through the opening, and a satisfied sigh followed. She couldn’t help but wonder where the liquid would travel. Would it trickle through him and splash on the log, or did ghosts have the need to eat and drink like any living mortal?

After a moment, the hot chocolate didn’t seep through his legs, so she concluded he must have a physical form to contain it. His grip on her wrist had proven as much the evening prior—but she had no expertise in ghosts or their biological makeup.

“I’m glad I did not presume wrong about the beverage,” she said.

His gloved hands wrapped tighter around the flask. “This… is most unexpected. But not unwelcome.”

Katrina hid her smile as she sipped her drink, enjoying the comfort it gave her in this surreal situation. She did not expect his awkward reply. His deep voice sounded stilted, as though he was unused to speaking with anyone, which she supposed he wouldn’t have much company, if any.

The thought gave her pause, wondering if ghosts could become lonely.

“Do you like it?” she asked, attempting conversation.

He nodded.

Branches gently creaked above, and a faint hoot of an owl filled the silence between them. Katrina cleared her throat and settled the drink in her lap. The hot chocolate became cold, and she tapped her fingers against the flask. Perhaps she needed to get to the heart of her questions, since he didn’t seem well-versed in small talk.

“I was wondering,” she began lightly, shifting her body toward him. “Why did you save me last night?”

The flask near his pumpkin mouth froze. Slowly, he lowered the drink, and the jack-o-lantern smile wavered. His shoulders hunched as if to make himself smaller, and she blinked in surprise. This image of him did not reflect the terrifying ghost she had seen last night.

“Because I could not ignore when you were in peril. I had to act.”

She stared at him wide-eyed.

His slip of nervous energy and guileless honesty rendered her speechless. Her thoughts raced, and she speculated why he felt the impulse to save someone he didn’t know. And why did a spark of thrill pulse through her veins at the thought?

“Who are you?” she asked.