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It was around 5:30pm when Shakur began to stir in bed, roused by the scent of pizza wafting through the doorway. It was early for him yet—after a days-long mission like the one he just closed, 12 hours of sleep were usually in order and so far, he’d only gotten five. He looked to his right—Jake and Ambrose were still dead asleep on their own bunks. Ambrose slept swaddled under the weight of a massive down comforter (a lucky find at the donation bin that Shakur envied) while Jake slept uncovered, snoring slightly. Shakur was not quite satisfied by his friends’ status—something still seemed off. And besides, the p

A sunny afternoon in Vercia’s capitol city and the late March weather was beautiful. The wind blew delicately over the cityscape all the way through to the city’s center, where the great Tree of Eden loomed powerfully. The end of the Spring Festival meant a whole host of grems, humans, and other species were flitting about, buying, selling, and planting flowers as a way to pay respect to one of Palleth’s most revered deities.   “Gross.” Laika was tapping her foot angrily as she looked around at the sugar-sweet scene. If she had her way, this was the last place she’d be. Huffing and puffing, she glared downw

“Nala!” A piercing shriek jolted me out of sleep—eyes flying open and blood rushing to my ears, I was instinctively filled with fear. I knew whose voice that was. It had to be— “Sabrina!” I called back, already halfway down the hall to my human’s room. She sounded downright terrified, and with good reason—she and I had been home alone for the past few weeks now while her parents, my owners, were in Austrum for business. Our house isn’t too scary when the whole family is home, but when it’s just Sabby and I (as it so often is), it can be downright terrifying. It’s an elaborat

There’s something fishy about this grem, I just know it. I come into his shop every damn day to buy those stupid flowers Giancarlo’s decrepit mother likes so much, and every damn day, I’m forced to see him. I know there’s something fake about that smile of his, and it’s driving me nuts. I think the thing that bothers me most is that no one else seems to notice anything out of the ordinary. To them, the famous Austin of Honeybee Flowershop is a darling, a sugar-sweet saint who can do no wrong. I mean, the guy makes flower crowns for kids, for Christ’s sake—what poor sucker could resist a grem like tha