Pumpkin Princess

A nearby bush shook, and the two hounds burst through the trees. Curfew and Watcher stood noses down, a slow rumbling growl coming from each as they backed her up against the bramble wall. Their leashes hung loosely behind them; either their handlers had let go or the dogs had forcefully broken free after her. Regardless, she was caught. Curfew lifted his broad head to howl victoriously— But an unexpected whimper came out instead. She watched bewildered as both of the large dogs began to slowly back away, their intimidating growls replaced by low, fearful whining. Then, to her surprise, both turned and ran back the way they had come, their tails tucked between their legs. Um… what? she thought. She had never seen Watcher or Curfew scared of anything. “Your turn to run,” a low voice growled from behind her. She tried to whip around on her knees, but in her haste stumbled onto her back, facing the brambles. There, obscured by thorns, were two triangles of warm light, each tilted at an angle and glowing orange like burning embers. “Is someone there?” she called, unsure if she had imagined the voice and even more unsure of what she was looking at. For a moment, there was no reply. Then, slowly, the vines began to twist and slither away, seemingly of their own accord. A head emerged from the bramble, or at least what appeared to be a head. What it really was, and she had no idea how, was a massive pumpkin, with a face like that of a glowing jack-o’-lantern carved into it. The two lights she had seen became sharp, angular eyes that moved and squinted her way; underneath was a triangular nose that seemed to sniff at her, and a wide, jagged mouth shifted to a thin frown as it judged her where she lay. A cloud passed overhead, cutting off the lone moonbeam that had been able to penetrate the treetop. She was thrown into complete darkness, save for the light emanating from the face staring down at her. She found herself speechless, trying (and failing) to make sense of what she was seeing. Had she hit her head when she fell? But then what were the dogs running from? “You have seen me,” the face rumbled. “Now would you wish to run?” Where anyone else would have felt fear, she did not. Instead, she glanced back over her shoulder the way she had come. The only way to run was back toward the orphanage. “Um…,” she stammered, thinking there was no way she was going back if she didn’t have to. “Is there a second option?” “Hrmph,” the being grunted, and one of his eyes grew wide in curiosity. “Who are you?” he asked, with a voice like deep roots inching through soil. The hollow nose sniffed again, flickering in its own light as it did. “Your kind have always feared me. Why do I not smell that on you?” “I’m just an orphan,” she answered cautiously. “And you don’t smell fear because I’m not scared. Also, well, because fear isn’t really a smell. Should I be, though? Scared, I mean.” “Yes,” he growled, and his pumpkin face split into a wide, threatening grimace. Steam poured from his jagged mouth into the cold air as he spoke. “For from my wakening breath comes the storming winds of fall. My opening eyes cause the leaves to turn color in fright. My voice chases the sun from its perch and allows the shadows to grow. I am the bump in the night, the monster under your bed, the trick in the darkness, and the treat of it all. For I am the Pumpkin King.” The face loomed farther out of the branches and closer to her own, revealing a dark, pointed collar atop a pitch-black cape that covered the creature’s broad shoulders. “Do you find yourself scared now?” the Pumpkin King asked from behind a twisting smile. She studied the otherworldly face, wondering how any of this could be even remotely possible. Yet, so far he hadn’t given her any reason to feel in danger, and until he did… “Nope. Still not scared, sorry,” she answered. The smile disappeared from his face. If he was hoping to frighten, he chose the wrong person, she thought. Fear was something she no longer let herself feel; she had buried that particular emotion away years ago. When she had first arrived at the orphanage, and through most of her childhood there, she had suffered from terrorizing nightmares brought on by an almost constant state of being scared. Eventually, she bottled all that up, locking that fear in a little box and hiding it somewhere deep within. Ever since, she decided things could only scare you if you let them, and had trained herself to never, ever let them. She would not be scared again. Not of the nightmares, not of chasing dogs, and surely not of a large, talking pumpkin. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you don’t make fall happen,” she added simply. “The rotation of the planet causes seasons, not your breath.” He tilted his massive head to the side, and if a pumpkin could look intrigued, he did. “What is your name, orphan?” he asked, his tone far less menacing than before, and much more… well, mainly less menacing. “It’s—I don’t have one,” she lied. She never liked the name the orphanage gave her. It was of a life that wasn’t hers. “Hrmph,” he grumbled, considering her with eyes that cast a warm, amber glow over her. She met his penetrating gaze with a curiousness of her own, and for a moment, not a sound could be heard within the forest, save for the rustle of the leaves in the wind. Finally, he gave a small nod, as if he had come to the end of some unspoken decision. “Do you know what tonight is?” he asked. She knew what night it was well. In fact, it had been an integral part of her escape plan. “It’s Halloween,” she answered. “Yes, All Hallows’ Eve,” he said. “Thus, I shall call you Eve.” She pondered this, wondering why he felt the need to call her anything. Eve was pretty, though, prettier than her other name. “Short for Evelyn, I like it,” she said. “Then it shall be your name,” the Pumpkin King growled, almost proudly. “Eve, how would you like a new home? One where men and their hounds do not chase you through the woods? One where, should you want, you could leave at your leisure, though I hope you find reason to stay.” From deeper in the forest, she began to hear the rustling of footsteps followed by the reluctant whimpers of scared dogs. No doubt her pursuers had finally narrowed down her location and would soon be upon her. She looked up at the illuminated face and gave a slight shiver. Not from fear, no, not her, but rather from the cold that was biting through her damp clothes. She knew the offer was one that currently didn’t make sense, but given more time, she thought she might be able to work out whatever this was. Talking pumpkin heads were not something that should exist, at least not from what she had ever seen from the confines of the orphanage or the surplus of books she read to busy herself while there. “I would like that,” she finally answered, knowing at the bare minimum it would be a different life from the one she had, the one she was so desperate to escape. “Good,” the Pumpkin King answered with a nod. “Then you shall come back with me, and I shall adopt you as my own child, where you will be the Pumpkin Princess.” “Wait, wha—” But before she could finish her question, vines reached out from the towering wall of bramble and grabbed her legs. With a sudden tug, the dogs were left with nothing to find as the orphan they searched for was yanked from a world