Page 122 of Wild Scottish Magic

“Bracken!” I shouted.

You’ll never take my freedom!

The squirrel shrieked…an impressive sound, honestly… and launched himself onto the back of Gloam, who squealed and took off in the opposite direction, weaving between legs and under tables.

Plates clattered. Someone screamed. Lottie stood, clutching her napkin to her chest. “That’s enough!”

“Get the dogs,” Sophie roared, pointing like a general.

“I’ve got Sir Buster…nope—” Lachlan skidded sideways as Sir Buster ducked under his arm.

Bracken made a daring leap for greenery that lined the walls, misjudged it entirely, and landed in the gravy boat.

Chaos peaked.

And then?—

Amoooobellowed through the restaurant, halting everyone in their tracks.

Every head turned.

Hovering serenely above the dessert table, translucent and glowing faintly blue, Clyde blinked into existence, a spectral pie balanced delicately on his nose.

The dogs froze.

Bracken froze.

Even Sir Buster sat.

A collective silence fell.

“Is that a pumpkin pie?” Matthew whispered.

The dogs, apparently deciding that ghosts outranked squirrels, slowly backed away. Bracken took the opportunity to scramble up the greenery wall, chittering victoriously, gravy dripping from his fur.

Applause broke out. Actual applause.

“Well,” Sophie said, straightening. “I guess that’s Thanksgiving, then.”

Eventually, the room settled. Laughter lingered like warmth in the air, the kind that settled into your bones. Torin squeezed my hand, and I leaned into him without thinking, my heart steady and full in a way it hadn’t been in… ever.

I looked around the table. At my friends. My sister, smiling and safe. At magick woven so tightly into the ordinary that it felt like it had always belonged here. At the low table, now calm again, where hedgehogs nibbled politely and the dogs pretended not to watch the squirrel.

And I felt it.

That quiet click inside my chest.

I was exactly where I needed to be.

My astrology business was growing—booked solid weeks out now. People were coming not just for answers, but for comfort and clarity, for a sense that the universe might be listening after all. My powers were intact, humming gently under my skin, no longer something to fear or fight, but something to live alongside.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t waiting for the other shoe to drop. Well, at least not until we figured out what to do with the Kelpies. But that was a worry for another day.

I lifted my glass.

“To gratitude,” I said softly.

And as everyone echoed it back—laughing and clinking glasses—I knew this wasn’t an ending at all.

It was only just the beginning.