Page 1 of Must Love Moss and Moonshine (Moonshine Hollow)

TANSY

M usic poured through the lattice-paned windows of the Jolly Porcupine, where patrons sang a raucous round of His Bonnie Rune Elf Lass.

The scents of harvest ale, roasting meat, and freshly baked herbed bread wafted from the place.

Warm, golden light shone from the door as other patrons entered.

Despite the warmth coming from inside, a cool autumn breeze whipped down the street outside, making me shiver.

“Gods, I’m starving,” I complained.

“You’re always hungry,” Bromir replied. “I, on the other hand, am as thirsty as a desert cat.”

“Then you must always be thirsty, because you never miss a tavern. Ever ,” I said, poking the dwarf playfully in the ribs. “Not even when we’re in a hurry,” I added, giving him a knowing look.

“We’re not in a hurry. You’re in a hurry, partner,” Bromir replied. “Wendy, talk some sense into Tansy. She’s been chewing my ear off all day about leaving for Moonshine Hollow tomorrow morning.”

Wendy, her hair coiled high on her head in the fashionable gnomish style, beautifully adorned for the autumn season with ruby-red leaves, acorns, and golden berries, looked back at us.

“Get into the middle of an argument between you two? Oh, no. I ken better than that,” she said with a laugh.

“But Bromir—” I began, about to launch into what felt like my hundredth case as to why we shouldn’t linger in the little hamlet of Silverpine but set off for Moonshine Hollow and its profitable market in the morning.

While Bromir’s metal smithing was the perfect companion to my enchanted jewelry making, my business partner and I were sometimes at odds with the importance of coin.

Bromir loved the journey. He adored life on the road.

I had my own motivations, and right now, my primary driver was making as much coin as possible.

Our argument was interrupted, however, when Cooper, the tanner, joined us. “Look, Tansy,” he said, pointing through the open tavern door. “They have apple handpies. See them on the counter? Let’s go,” he said, looping his arm in mine and pulling me inside.

The moment we entered the tavern, a wave of warmth and light washed over me. I smiled, seeing all the merry patrons.

“Misty!” Cooper called to the seer who traveled with us. She was already settled in with some others from our caravan at the back of the tavern. The lanky human then led me away from the dwarf—and our argument.

I looked over my shoulder at Bromir. “You put him up to this,” I called.

“Did not, but I’ll get you a drink.”

“And an apple handpie!” I called back.

At that, Bromir laughed then nodded.

The members of our caravan crowded into the small locale. Jonsie, the bard who rode with us, had taken his flute and joined an accordion player and a mandolin player. The three of them had everyone singing along or laughing at their bawdy tune.

Cooper and I squeezed in alongside Misty and several of the others from our party.

Silverpine Village was the last stop on our journey before we got to Moonshine Hollow.

Past seasons on the road told me that my caravan loved Silverpine.

Many of them would drink the week away here.

They’d set off for Moonshine Hollow’s massive autumn market at the end of the week, but because they loved to linger, they’d be the last to set up.

They’d get the worst booth placement and have no extra time to prepare their wares.

That was why I had been nagging Bromir for the last two days to ride on without the others.

If we got to Moonshine Hollow first, we’d be assigned the best booths and have extra time to make more goods to sell.

Two wins. It all seemed perfectly logical to me, but not so much to the dwarf who liked a diversion.

I looked back to see Bromir heaving two massive tankards as he made his way across the tavern toward me.

“Did you tell the barkeep I’m not a dwarf?” I asked with a laugh as he set the huge vat of ale down with a slosh. “Should I drink that or bathe in it?”

“I expect you to drink half of it,” Bromir said, his moustache already trimmed with the ale’s white foam, “so I can drink the other half.

“As for him,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder with his chin at the barkeep, “he might have other ideas.”

I followed Bromir’s gaze to the strapping black-haired barkeep. When he caught me looking, he flicked his gaze up from under a rogue lock of hair and gave me the kind of smile that made my stomach knot and my mind bubble with what probably amounted to very bad ideas.

“He was askin’ questions,” Bromir told me.

“What kind of questions?” I replied, pulling the tankard toward me. “Gods, if I drink all this, I won’t see straight for a week. So, what did he ask you?”

“If you were Cooper’s girl.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What did you say?”

“I said you weren’t. Then he asked if you were my girl. Since he looked your type?—”

“You are supposed to say yes. Always . You are always supposed to say yes.”

“Not when they look like that ,” Bromir said with a loud laugh. “And you need to…relax,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at me. “All this talk about getting to Moonshine Hollow early, making extra wares, earning more coin, and all the rest is giving me a headache. Drink.”

“I do not need to relax , I just…” I began then paused. “You know I’m just looking to make some extra money.”

“Aye. To stay off the road for the winter,” he said in a low voice so the others wouldn’t hear.

Stepping away from the caravan was a big deal, and Bromir and I both knew it.

I had been with the troupe for five years, loving every minute of my vagabond life.

But lately... Something felt heavy in my chest, something that had never been there before.

I didn’t feel lonely for my home in the Sylvan forest city of Greenspire.

I felt lonely for a home I’d never seen before.

I yearned for a place I didn’t even know.

I needed to go home—wherever that was. How was such a thing even possible?

The feeling was so strong that I knew with certainty that I needed a break from the wanderer’s life, even just for a season.

I needed to get to Moonshine Hollow, make as much money as I could, and spend the winter in the warm and friendly town just trying to figure out what to do next.

“Yes,” I replied.

“I’d be worried, but you’ll change your mind. You always change your mind. You’ve never been one to miss an adventure, and you love the dwarven halls in Ironmist Mountain at Yule.”

“I do, but maybe not this year. This year, I want quiet, which your brethren are decidedly not.”

Bromir laughed. “True,” he said then tipped the heavy tankard back, drinking heartily.

I sighed and drank as well. A winter of warmth and quiet sounded perfect.

I wanted a winter not sleeping wherever I found a place to rest my head, which was often beside Bromir in the back of his wagon under a heap of furs and blankets, listening to the dulcet tone of my bestie’s snores.

I wanted to sit beside a fire and take my time making my enchanted jewelry.

Of late, I’d had new ideas about how to weave some of my silver strands, and I had been dreaming of a new spell to work into the silver.

I almost had it, I just needed a little longer to practice the spellwork and to listen, letting the magic come to me.

I wanted to try new things, things that weren’t all that suited to a traveler’s life.

I just wanted…something more.

Sipping the massive tankard, I eyed the barkeep.

He was handsome in every way possible. Strong, square jaw, blue eyes, a hulking frame, his tunic and trousers hugging him in all the right places.

For just a moment, I imagined curling up beside him for the night instead of sleeping in the wagon by the dwarf.

He probably had a warm room upstairs, clean blankets, a crackling fire. A perfect place to get...friendly.

When he turned toward me, I looked away.

Getting friendly wasn’t going to get me what I wanted. I was yearning for something , and it wasn’t going to be found in the arms of that morsel of a man.

“His eye is on you,” Bromir whispered to me.

“Forget him… Just like you forgot my handpie.”

“Did not,” Bromir replied, pulling the wrapped pie from the pouch on his waist. He handed it to me.

“It’s squished,” I complained. It wasn’t, but I loved the look of indignation on Bromir’s face.

“Is not! I was careful.”

“Pfft,” I blew at him then unwrapped my food. “As for tonight, the only love affair I’m having will be with this dessert. Come to me, darling,” I said then took a bite, shimmying a little happy dance, enjoying the taste.

“Poor barkeep. You’re no fun.”

“You go flirt with him, then.”

At that, the dwarf drank again then sighed. “You’ve got the nixies. We all get them from time to time. It will pass.”

The nixies. That was what we called it whenever anyone wanted to leave the vagabond lifestyle. “It’s not the nixies,” I told him between chews.

“Whatever you say, Tansy.” Bromir tapped my mug then turned and called to Jonsie and the other musicians. “Hey, you lot. Play Miranda Goes a Washin’ for my Sylvan friend.”

Jonsie inclined his head to the dwarf then turned to the others, the trio launching into the comical song about a washer woman, her goblin lover, and her cuckolded orc husband.

“Bromir,” I said, jabbing him once more.

“I’m sick of seeing you frowning. This one always makes you laugh.”

He was right.

I lifted the handpie, took a bite, and tried not to look at the barkeep.

No more fantasies about snuggling up with him.

And no more wandering. Tomorrow, I would buy a horse and head out for Moonshine Hollow on my own.

Bromir could catch up with me later. Nixies or not, I wanted to rest. The sooner I got to Moonshine Hollow, the better.

I put my arm around the dwarf’s shoulders, leaning against him.

“It’s just the nixies,” he told me again.

I tapped my giant mug against his but said nothing more, not even when Bromir traded his empty tankard for my full one. Deep in my heart, I knew I would miss almost nothing about being on the road—except him.