The Awakening of James Island

Bonus: Winter Special story- White Harvest

[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.