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“Guys!” called Gus. “I think we’re safe.”
Willow slowed her staff, bringing it to hover between the trees where Gus and Luz were waiting, suspended above the forest floor. Behind her, Hunter’s breaths came shallow and rapid, matching hers. His hands stayed anchored at her waist—proof that he was here, that she hadn’t lost him again.
(She wouldn’t lose him. Not this time.)
Hunter’s grip on her hips tightened. “Are you sure there aren’t any spies around? This place has the Collector’s name written all over it.”
Willow peered around carefully. She knew these woods. They were the same woods she used to cut through on the way to school. But if she hadn’t spotted her house on the way in, she wasn’t sure she’d even recognize them. It was like the whole forest had been drenched in a bucket of lurid, screaming midnight, stars and all. The familiar, calming green was gone now, leaves and moss and grass dyed in shades of blue and purple. Huge, spotted toadstools erupted through the soil, standing silent guard along the path, and above them, luminescent orbs winked through the branches of the trees, casting a soft blue glow on all of them.
It was beautiful, she had to admit, but it made her skin prickle and her chest squeeze. Just another way her home was robbed. Another thing she loved remade for the sake of a game.
“I’m sure. No sign of them,” Amity said breathlessly, bringing up the rear with Camila. “It was smart to lose them in the trees, Gus.”
“Of course it was,” Gus said. “All my ideas are smart.”
Luz grinned. “Even your mustard ravioli?”
“Duh. Not my fault you’re not at my level of culinary genius.”
Willow let out a breath, and Hunter’s hold around her waist relaxed. They were safe. For now.
“So, does that mean we can go back to the ground now?” Camila asked, voice squeaky and shaking. “Please?”
They all touched down on the forest floor, spongy with indigo moss. Hunter stuck close beside her, a hand placed lightly on her lower back, as if to make sure she would still be there if he looked away. Clover transformed and settled on her shoulder, but Willow could still feel something like the thrumming of her wings, inside her belly and under her chest. Almost without thinking, she leaned into Hunter’s touch.
“So.” She cleared her throat, hoping her blush wasn’t noticeable in the shadow of the trees. “What next?”
“Back to plan A,” Luz said. “Find Eda and King.”
“Right. And how do we do that?” Gus plucked a purple berry from a nearby bush and popped it into his mouth.
“Gus, spit that out,” Camila scolded. “It could be poisonous!”
Gus shrugged. “Almost everything in the Boiling Isles is at least a little poisonous. It’s where the flavor comes from.”
“Uh, okay, I … do not know how to respond to that.”
Willow stepped forward, away from the warmth of Hunter’s hand. “It’s okay. Those berries are safe. They’re Clover’s favorite.” She snagged a few herself, offering one to Clover and one to Camila. “Try it. I think you’ll like them. They kinda taste like those ones you always gave us with our pancakes.”
“Blueberries?” Camila inspected the berry before cautiously placing it in her mouth. “Oh, that’s good! Except”—she made a face—“why does it make my tongue feel all … sparkly?”
“That’s the best part!” Willow said. “It’s like there’s a hex inside your mouth. That’s why they’re called hexberries.”
“Ooh, like Pop Rocks?” Luz asked. “I wanna try—”
“Guys, can we please make a plan?” Hunter cut in. “I don’t like that we’re just standing here.”
Willow glanced back at him. There was tension in his voice, his brow, his whole stance, the hand he’d held at her back now clenched into a fist at his side.
“The Collector will find us if we don’t keep moving,” he said. “Or Belos. We can’t stay here.”
Willow tipped her handful of berries into the pocket of her Halloween costume (a last-minute addition by Hunter).
“He’s right,” she said. “If we follow this path long enough, it will lead us back around near Hexside, but it’s probably better to go deeper in the woods. We’ll be harder to find that way.”
She stepped back to Hunter, noticing how he seemed to relax at her approach. She placed a hand at his elbow, flashing him a smile before she turned back to Luz.
“Besides,” she went on, “if Eda and King are hiding out somewhere, this places seems like a likely spot. Lots of cover. Food. Potion ingredients. It’s a good place to start searching, anyway.”
“Sounds good.” Luz smiled, holding her hand out to Amity. “Batata?”
They set off through the trees under the glow of the orbs. Willow watched Amity and Luz walk hand and hand, whispering and laughing, while Stringbean looped herself around the brim of Luz’s hat. It was good to see Luz smile again—bright and eager, the way she’d smiled when they first met all those months ago. She’d wanted to be a witch, and now she practically was, with her own palisman and her own powerful brand of magic. Surely that was a sign that they could do this, together. That anything was possible with the right people by your side.
She glanced to her left, where Hunter was walking silently beside her. Her eyes were drawn to his hand, hanging by his side.
(There was a tiny, half-healed cut on the inside of his pinkie finger. She’d felt it just minutes ago, when she’d wrapped her own around it like a promise and told him what he meant to her.)
(Amity and Luz were still holding hands.)
Her fingers twitched. She could do it. She could reach out and grab his hand. It wasn’t a big deal. She’d done it already. She’d made it through the scary part. Taken the plunge. Spilled her guts. Tipped her hand. She wasn’t sure what exactly they were now, but it wasn’t the same as before. They were friends, sure, but they were also … something.
“Hexberry?”
Willow jumped and whirled toward Gus, who had a handful of berries and an impish grin.
“No, thanks,” she said. “I’ve got some.”
“Hunter? Berry?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Suit yourself,” Gus said. “But I’ve heard hexberries are the most romantic type of berry. A perfect snack to share between two”—his smirk got even smirker—“advanced friends.”
“Gus!” she hissed, but he summoned his staff and hopped on, surfing low across the forest floor to catch up to Luz, Amity, and Camila.
She and Hunter were alone.
“Sorry about that,” she murmured.
“N-no problem.”
She snuck another glance at him. He was staring straight ahead, moving stiffly, bright red to the tips of his ears.
(If she held his hand now, she’d probably kill them both.)
“He was just teasing,” she said.
“I know.”
“He means well. I think that’s his way of saying … um …”
Congratulations? About time? Get a room, losers?
She had a feeling that her face was now as red as Hunter’s.
She cleared her throat. “Anyway, if you were worried, I think he was the only one who saw. Before. The others were too distracted.”
“O-okay. Good.”
“Yeah.” She swallowed. “Good.”
Clover nudged against her neck with a gentle buzz. Willow followed Hunter’s lead, keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead.
(She didn’t care if Gus teased them. She’d hold Hunter’s hand in front of everyone on the Boiling Isles.)
Slowly, she extended her arm. Her fingers brushed his. He stiffened, breath catching, head swiveling, and then—
“Come on, slow pokes!” Luz called. “We’re stopping.”
Willow’s arm snapped back to her side. She and Hunter hurried forward.
“Already?” Hunter asked.
“It’ll be dark soon. And besides …” Amity pointed to the sky.
Willow looked up. Dark clouds had gathered over the gaps in the trees, the leaves stirring restlessly in a sudden, hot breeze.
“Oh, looks likes it’s going to rain,” Camila said. “I love rain! But we should probably find shelter.”
Luz laughed nervously. “Mamá, did I ever tell you why this place is called … the Boiling Isles?”
A few minutes later, they had all taken shelter under a cluster of giant toadstools, like strange, spotted umbrellas planted in the soil. As big as they were, it was still a tight fit to ensure that the six of them were all completely covered. They huddled together, Willow’s legs pressed against Hunter’s and her arm wedged under his. (Neither this nor the sticky heat of the approaching storm were helping her cheeks cool down.)
Thunder cracked overhead, and Camila jumped, wide eyes darting around the forest.
“Are you sure these big mushrooms are enough to protect us?” she asked. “Won’t the rain just burn right through them?”
Hunter shifted against Willow’s side. “Don’t worry. Most of the native flora here has evolved to withstand the boiling rains. See how shiny the caps of the toadstools are? That’s a special kind of heat-resistant oil that they secrete when the air pressure lowers.”
Camila turned her head to where he was pointing. “Oh. I see. That’s good to know. This place is so interesting. Terrifying, but interesting.”
“Hey, that was my old school’s motto!” Gus said.
Willow turned to Hunter. “I told you that. About the toadstools. The day we got caught in the rain in the garden.”
“I know.”
“I’m surprised you remember.”
The tips of his ears went red, and his eyes roved over a patch of dirt at their feet before they found hers again.
“I remember everything you tell me,” he whispered.
It was then that Gus complained loudly that he was hungry. Then Amity pointed out that he shouldn’t have eaten all his berries at once, and Gus said they weren’t real food anyway because they were like candy, and what he could really go for was some dino nugs or a frozen waffle (still frozen). Willow offered to share the berries she’d stashed in her pocket, which Gus eagerly accepted, but she saved back a few for herself.
“Have you ever had these?” she asked Hunter.
He shook his head.
“Want to try one?”
“Sure.” He popped the offered berry into his mouth. After a second, his eyes went almost comically wide.
Willow laughed. Hunter always wore every expression on his whole face—like every muscle was seized with feeling, bent to the shape of his emotion. She liked that. How without his mask, his face could never lie. It always told the truth about what he felt.
She gave him the rest of the berries, just so she could watch his face light up again.
Soon, the rain began to fall, fat drops sizzling down and hitting the ground with a hiss. Gus took it upon himself to entertain them with illusion reenactments of his favorite scenes of Cosmic Frontier, which both Hunter and Camila seemed all too eager for. Willow didn’t care much for spaceships and robots and phorton torpedoes (or whatever they were called), but she wasn’t really watching the illusions anyway. Hunter kept glancing back at her, grinning, and she always flashed a smile back, watching for the tell-tale splotch of pink on his scarred cheeks.
At last the sun slipped past the horizon, and Camila insisted that they all get a good rest.
“You’ve had a long day,” she said. “And we still have a lot of work ahead of us.”
Luz took off her hat, giving Stringbean a scratch. “We should probably take turns keeping watch in case the Collector shows up again. Maybe Hunter and Gus, me and Amity, Willow and Mamá?”
“No!” Willow blurted.
They all turned to her. She fought back a blush.
“It’s just that—Gus looks pretty tired. Aren’t you, Gus?” She looked at him meaningfully.
“Uh …” Gus squinted. “Yes?”
“We should let him rest first,” Willow said. “I can take the first watch with Hunter.”
Beside her, Hunter stiffened, ever so slightly. Willow kept her eyes ahead.
Luz shrugged. “Okay. Just wake me and Amity up after a few hours.”
“And if you guys plan to chat,” Gus added (shooting Willow a look that clearly said, “or do anything else”), “could you please go a little further out so the rest of us can actually sleep? That will give us all extra room to stretch out too.”
Camila frowned. “We’re not going to send them out into that rain.”
“Pfft. They’ll be fine. Hunter’s got Flapjack powers now. He can just zoom them out of here.”
Camila still looked uncertain. “Uh, alright, then. Stay close.”
Hunter nodded. “We will.”
“And holler if you see anything suspicious,” Gus said. “Or interesting. Or edible. Preferably edible.”
Willow laughed. “If we happen to find a dino-nug bush, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Excellent.”
They bid the others good night and turned to the boiling rain. Hunter’s hand found its place at her back again, sending goosebumps shooting up her spine.
“That looks like a good spot.” Willow pointed toward another toadstool ahead of them.
“Got it.”
His arm curled around her waist, and in few quick flashes of gold, they were safely in the shade of the toadstool.
“Did any of it get you?” he asked.
She shook her head. “You?”
“No.”
“Good.”
They sank to the soft, mossy ground side by side, scooting back against the stem of the toadstool. Hunter shifted into guard mode, back straight, ears perked, eyes bright as he scanned the rain. But his face never lied, and the pink of his ears gave her the courage to slip her hand in his. He glanced at her in surprise, but then his whole body relaxed, fingers tightening around her hand.
“Hunter,” she said, “do we need to talk about … um …”
His blush deepened, and he kept his eyes on the ground. “About what?”
“About … well … this.” She lifted their entwined hands.
“Oh, that.” He let out an awkward laugh. “Well, um, I like it. I … I really like it.”
“Me too,” she said softly.
He caught her eye at last, lips tugged into a smile, and her heartbeat stumbled, skin tingling against his calloused fingers.
Maybe the possible end of the world was a bad time to have this kind of talk. But if there was anything Willow had learned in the past few hours, it was that she couldn’t hold back her feelings anymore. For months—years, really—she’d pushed everything down, keeping her edges smooth and her cracks sealed tight. But she had broken today, jagged and raw, and even now she was still spilling over. It was scary, but somehow she wanted it. Somehow, she wanted to bleed.
(Maybe the end of the world was the perfect time for a new beginning.)
Willow took a breath. “I was thinking, when all this is over, we could, um, go out. Like Amity and Luz.”
“I’d like that,” Hunter said.
“Okay. Cool.”
He paused. “Does … does that mean I would be your boyfriend?”
“Yeah.” Her pulse sped up, clicking against her ribs. “You could—you could even be my boyfriend now. If you want.”
“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Yeah, I want that.”
Willow’s cheeks bloomed with heat, and she couldn’t keep herself from smiling. “Okay.”
Hunter looked down at their hands, smoothing his thumb slowly across hers. “Um. Just so you know—I mean, it’s probably obvious. But … I’ve never done this before.”
“Me neither.”
He hesitated. “What if I’m bad at it?”
“You won’t be.”
“I don’t even know what boyfriends are supposed to do.”
She cleared her throat. “Well, um, I think they do all the same things friends do. Like, listening. And helping you. And laughing with you. Stuff like that.”
“Okay. I think I can do that.”
“And—and then they also do some … other stuff. Like, um, holding your hand.”
He breathed out a laugh, giving her hand a squeeze. “Check.”
“Ha, yep! And, um, cuddling?”
He looked around, like he was trying to figure out the best cuddling strategy when you were sitting in the dirt against a giant toadstool.
“And, of course, there’s, um”—she swallowed—“kissing.”
Hunter was quiet for a long time. Willow sat stock-still, face burning, for what felt like a lifetime. Finally she couldn’t stand it anymore.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a rush. “I shouldn’t have brought that up. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, and I know this is really early and new, and—”
“Can I kiss you?” he asked.
She blinked. “Y-yeah.”
Slowly, Hunter leaned forward. He lifted his hands to gently hold her cheeks, fingers rough and warm against her skin. She could see the twist of the scars that painted his face, the shimmer of gold in his new brown eyes. They blinked at her, just inches away.
“Um,” she breathed, “are you going to do it?”
“Y-yeah. Just. Give me a minute.”
Another handful of seconds crawled by.
“Hunter, if you’re not ready, you really don’t have to—”
He stopped her with his lips. Willow’s eyes slipped closed, and for a moment, all she could feel was the heat of his mouth against hers. It was gentle. Almost timid. Like he was afraid of getting it wrong. Giving too much. Like it was a question and an answer wrapped up in one, but he didn’t know which it was.
It couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds, but still, it was enough to make her feel like she was going to explode, pulled apart into glittering dust like fireworks.
When he broke away, his face was as red as hers felt. He stared at her with wide eyes, lips parted so she could glimpse the gap between his teeth—like he was dumbstruck, starstruck, lovestruck.
A shiver ran through her, and his hands, still braced against her cheeks, slipped away.
“You’re shaking. Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I’m just … I don’t know. A little scared, I guess.”
“Me too.” He bit his lip, brow furrowed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No! No.” She let out a breathless laugh. “It was really nice. I’m—I’m happy. Really happy. It’s just … it’s a lot, you know? And I guess I didn’t realize it would feel like … like so much.”
“I get what you mean.” He offered a small smile. “It’s a good much, though. For me.”
“Me too.”
She settled back again, resting her head on his shoulder, and his arm curled around her automatically. The rain made it feel uncomfortably stuffy, even in the open air, and the back of her neck was sticky with sweat. Still, she didn’t want him to let go. They were both dirty and tired and a little banged up, but they were together, and right now, that was all that mattered.
“Do you really remember everything I’ve ever told you?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Then you remember what I said that night we watched Jurassic Park? After Gus had gone to sleep?”
“About how the T-rex was the most inspiring female character in any human movie you’d seen so far?”
She laughed. “No! About home. What I’d do when we got back.”
His arm tightened around her lower back. “You said you were going to bring back the Emerald Entrails. Even if you had to rebuild the field yourself, you were going to make sure we played flyer derby again.”
“Right. And then … what did I say about you?”
“You said … you said you were really glad I’d joined the team. And that no matter where I ended up, I’d always have a spot there. I’d always have a place … with you.”
She sat up to look him in the eyes. “I meant that, you know.”
“I know. But …” His free hand rested on his chest, gripping the fabric of his T-shirt. “I can’t even play flyer derby anymore. Not without Flapjack.”
“You’ll—we’ll find a way. You’ll play again. And he’ll still be with you, no matter what.”
“Yeah.”
“Hunter.”
He looked up, eyes glistening.
“I meant everything I said today too. About how you’re one of us, now and always. And about … how much you mean to me.” She wet her lips, heart thudding in her chest. “The reason I feel scared about this is that I’ve never felt this way before. I mean, I’ve liked people before. I’ve had crushes or whatever. But this is, like … this is more. You make me feel so safe, but you also kind of scare me. Because you make me feel so much that I can’t hold it in, even when I try. It’s—it’s just … spilling.”
He searched her gaze, and his face that never lied melted before her, soft and still and wanting.
“I can catch it,” he said.
He closed the gap between them with an outward breath, like a whisper he didn’t have the words to voice. She swallowed it up with her kiss, and when his lips slanted against hers she understood exactly what those lost words couldn’t say another way. Her heart was full and she was spilling, bursting, blooming—like water, like seeds, like every flower in her garden, opening its petals for the sun.
She pressed her palms flat against his chest. He leaned into her touch, tilting his head, and she could feel his pulse tap against her palm—a little too quick, like hers.
She liked him. Titan, she liked him so much. She didn’t realize how much she’d always wanted this until it was finally happening, and it felt like months of whispered wishing stacked up into one beautiful, heart-stopping moment. She could taste the faint sweetness of hexberries on his lips, and she could feel them inside her too, crackling and sparkling all through her blood.
At last they broke apart, breaths heavy and warm. But something was different about their little shelter—swaths of green instead of purple, bursts of pink instead of blue.
“Oh, Titan, not again.” She yanked at the flowering vines that had curled around his wrists. “I’m sorry. I told you—I’m spilling!”
Hunter laughed while she pulled him free. “Guess you just really want to keep me, huh?”
She froze, staring.
From the moment they met, she’d wanted to keep him. Keep him at her booth. Keep him on her team. Keep him in her life. It was stupid, then, that she wanted that, back when he was still an enemy. But during quiet nights bathed in the light of her scroll, she could forget all that and keep him close, every mistyped word and blurry photo.
(She would’ve kept him like that for all fifty-two weeks if she’d had to. She would’ve kept him any way she could.)
When she saw him again at Hexside, she knew she had to be cautious. But after everything, when they had won and he was on their side, she pulled him in and held him close, sandwiched between her and Gus. You’re not getting away this time, she thought. I’m keeping you.
She nearly lost him far too many times after that.
When Kikimora dragged him off. When molten gold crawled up his veins. When Belos gazed out through his eyes. When he lay still as stone, cold as death, drenched and heavy in her lap.
It was always the same, that desperate cry caught in her chest: No. I’m keeping you. Keeping you. Keeping you.
And now that she was spilling, those same words came pouring out—a promise now, quiet and sure.
I’m keeping you. Keeping you. Keeping you.
“Yes,” she said. “I do.”
“Huh?”
She took his hands in both of hers and squeezed.
“I wanna keep you,” she whispered. “Can I keep you, Hunter? Please?”
He gazed back at her (dumbstruck, starstruck, lovestruck), and she watched all his edges soften, shaped into a smile made just for her.
“Of course, Captain,” he said. “I’m yours.”
art by knockknockknockingonhootysdoor
The rest of their watch passed slowly and quickly all at once. It was a good thing the Collector didn’t actually turn up, though, because neither Hunter nor Willow were being a very good watcher. The dirty ground and sticky air did not deter him from carrying out Boyfriend Duty #5 (cuddling), and there was even more of Duty #6, which both of them were all too eager for. She sat with him at the end of the world and laughed—spilling, spilling, spilling.
Finally, the rain died down, and they reluctantly agreed it was time to take their turn to sleep. They walked hand in hand across the hot, damp earth, dodging all the steaming puddles, their path lit by the glowing orbs above.
When they reached the others, Willow crouched down to shake Luz gently by the shoulder. “Luz. You’re up.”
Luz blinked groggily up at her. “Already?”
“Yep.” Willow straightened and grabbed Hunter’s hand again. “And the rain stopped, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
“Mmmmk. Amity? It’s our turn to—” Luz froze, eyes wide, and then sat bolt upright.
“What—you—?” She gestured at Willow and Hunter’s linked hands.
“We’re girlfriends!” Hunter blurted. “Or, I mean, she’s my—I’m her—”
“We’re dating,” Willow said.
Luz’s mouth fell open. “Since when?”
“You know,” Gus murmured, “you were right, Luz. You did miss a lot.”
After a lot of gushing and hugging from Luz and a sleepy congratulations from Amity, they both set off, and Willow settled down with Hunter in their place.
“Can you guys, like, actually keep watch, though?” Gus called. “’Cause I’m pretty sure Willow and Hunter did not. Love wins, et cetera, but, like, the world is still ending a little bit. FYI.”
“Shut up,” Willow said. “We kept watch.”
“Yeah. I’m sure you glanced around every now and then while you were making out.”
Hunter went bright red, burying his face in her shoulder, and Willow threw a stray hexberry at Gus.
“I think it’s very nice that you two are together now,” Camila said warmly. “I always thought you would make a good couple.”
“Thank you, Camila. Aren’t you gonna congratulate us, Gus?” Willow asked.
“I’m pretty sure Luz covered that enough for all of us.” Gus grinned. “But yeah, you know I’m really happy for you guys.”
Hunter finally emerged from Willow’s shoulder. “Thanks, Gus.”
“Okay, I’m going back to sleep now,” Camila said. “And you three better sleep too. Don’t make me send you to separate toadstool rooms.”
“Sorry,” Hunter said. “We’ll be quiet.”
Camila smiled. “Buenas noches, mijo.”
Willow settled down next to Hunter. The plush moss made a surprisingly comfortable bed. She lay on her back and stared at the underside of the toadstool’s cap.
In the morning, the world would still be ending. The forest would still be purple, and Flapjack would still be gone, and her dads would still be locked away with dull eyes and wooden smiles.
But she didn’t feel so afraid anymore. She’d been spilling for hours, but somehow it didn’t make her feel empty. It made her feel alive.
They had scary things ahead of them, but together, they could do anything. They’d keep each other close, keep each other safe, just like they always did.
Willow turned her head to look at Hunter, and his eyes were already there to meet her. Even in the dark she could see his blush, like he was embarrassed she caught him staring. It made her feel giddy and light, knowing that he liked to look at her. (She liked to look at him too.)
She reached out and looped her pinky around his, like she’d done at the skull what felt like years ago.
Keeping you, she thought.
In answer, his finger tightened around hers, and when he smiled she could hear him say it too.
Keeping you.