The occupants of the Levine kitchen were an odd bunch, but even though they consisted of the Mothman, a bigfoot, one of the Fresno Nightcrawlers, and an elderly woman with a placid crow perched on the back of her chair, they were all fairly united in what they were doing for the time being.

            That being that they were doing their best to pretend they weren’t watching the clock.

            The clock being at just after 11:00 PM. The kitchen had already been cleaned up; the last vestiges of the party were just being put away.

            And, much to Harriet’s dismay, the Horseman had been a no-show. Despite his message at around nine-thirty, ten o’clock, the Hessian had remained scarce, though the more the absence went on it was clear that some were more worried than others. The Mothman, for example, kept looking at the clock hanging in their kitchen, fluffy antennae dipping lower and lower as he registered the time passing. Red, slightly glowing eyes zipped from person to person, before the somewhat shy cryptid spoke up with a Southern twang.

            “H-,Hey, maybe we oughta go looking for H? Or go wait for him on the stoop?”

            Despite the worried look around the cryptid’s scarlet eyes, the others were a little less ready to openly panic. Mostly because, well, panicking would only get them so far.

            “I walked the block about twenty minutes ago, didn’t see him. ‘Sides, don’t think anyone’s gonna miss a guy on a horse.” The Bigfoot replied, turning from the cabinets where he’d been putting dishes away. But even so, made plenty of sense for the guy to be worried, what with his jumpier temperament. Besides, he and the Horseman had been friends for a good while. You generally had some concern about friends, at least in the Bigfoot’s experience. But then again, this was the Horseman’s busiest night…

            “Maybe we should go again, Big, he said he was coming back, he even misspelled a bunch of words like he normally does when he’s in a hurry! Even if he was going to be a little late, a whole hour seems like a big, a big deal.” The Mothman finished a little lamely, hugging himself as his antennae and wings fluttered in discomfort. “Maybe something happened.”

            It was a fair worry, even as a part of Big couldn’t help pointing out that, again, this was the Horseman’s busiest night of the year. Blame the Walt Disney Company for that one, they were the ones that cooked up an association between the Headless Horseman and Halloween. Though he wasn’t sure that said Horseman could’ve stood for late nights throughout autumn, so maybe it was a good thing.

            But for the moment, musing on that really only got them so far, so all Big did was carefully step around the smaller furniture, kneeling next to the despondent Mothman and gently ruffling around the cryptid’s antennae. It made the tension dissipate, a softer light coming to Moth’s red eyes as his fluffy hide ruffled in response to the touch.

            “Alright, Moth. If he doesn’t show up in the next ten minutes, we’ll go out and look in town. If anything, someone from the festival probably held him up.”

            “He’s gonna be pissed, seeing as he missed everything.” Frezz pointed out as he skittered by, speaking out the side of his mouth given that he was partially holding a cake server in his teeth. Not that the lack of arms slowed him down none.

            “Yeah, poor guy’s definitely gonna be in a bit of a mood. Harriet too, at least for a good week or so.” Big had already seen how down the kid had looked, and he knew the Horseman would take it hard. He practically doted on all the kids, though Harriet being the youngest gave her a special place in the old Hessian’s, well, not-so-lively heart. “Maybe we can do a make-up party? Just us and the kids?”

            It was a thought he’d more or less put out to the whole of the room, the bigfoot looking around and making eye contact with the last of the group. Old Missus Edith, one of the original Van Tassel line. Though given that her daughter married an out of towner, people tended to forget that her grandkids were technically Van Tassels. However, the woman was tough as nails, having put together this whole house and really graciously invited a bunch of cryptids, a technically-dead Hessian, and, well, whatever Crow was, to live with her and her family. Given that most people were a little more content to keep their distance from most local legends, or transplanted ones, it felt like a major allowance. They were practically allowed to be part of the family, something that none of them took lightly.

            And, as such, when Missus Edith moved to answer, they all sort of instinctively went quiet. It was just kind of one of those things you did.

            “We can, though I think Harriet ought to be asked before making any formal decision.”

            Which was absolutely fair, though they might have to wait before asking. Big remembered how morose the kid had been when she’d finally given up and headed upstairs. He’d also had a distinct memory of Harriet beginning to make noise last year, something about not liking that she was “sharing” her birthday with the whole of Sleepy Hollow.

            Though that might’ve also had something to do with the fact that she was essentially sharing one of her beloved uncles with the whole of Sleepy Hollow too. It really was the perfect train wreck of circumstances, Harriet’s birthday being on Halloween, and the Galloping Hessian’s busiest day of the year also being Halloween.

            Hopefully between the five of them, they could persuade Harriet to take to the notion of a makeup date. The Horseman probably would be eager to jump on the prospect, he’d likely want to make up for the misstep as soon as possible, but Harriet was the one that would have to be talked into it. If there was one thing Big had learned over the years, it was that kids could be absolutely persnickety when it came to things like promises. And, well, H had regrettably promised he’d be here for the party, for all the good that apparently did…

            Albeit, before Big could muse for longer on the notion of promises, there was a distinct sound coming from the partially open window that caught all of their ears. The clatter of a horse galloping up the street, coming to a halt somewhere near the back door.

            Big had just enough time to think about how unusual that was, typically the Hessian dismounted in the driveway, before he noticed the horse giving an urgent sounding whinny right before something thudded against the door. All of them looked between each other for a brief moment before Moth made it over to the door, opening it and admitting the Headless Horseman.

            Well, admit was a bit of a strong word. The Hessian had been leaning against the door, and when the Mothman moved it, he’d then just toppled over the threshold. Moth gave a startled squawk, Big already managing to sidestep most of the furniture in his way to make it over and help the other cryptid get H off the floor.

            “Is he dead? Double-dead?” Frezz spoke up, the smaller cryptid having ventured closer but thankfully not so close that Big was worried about accidentally knocking into him. Which was fantastic, he didn’t really need more things to be frantic over given that H currently had all of the coordination of a drunk, potentially-mowed-down-by-a-car deer.

            Though the Hessian was very thankfully not, well, more dead, given how his hands immediately leapt into the act of ‘talking’, somewhat necessary since he was without his head at the moment. Which was another odd thing, Big knew the other myth had had a perfectly good pumpkin when he’d left. It wasn’t like carved pumpkins spoiled that fast, but it seemed like any explanation might be a while in coming. Whatever had happened to wear H out so much had taken a toll on his ability to sign, Big was maybe able to read about one in three ‘words’ and he knew Moth wasn’t having an easier time with it either.

            “H, I-I don’t understand, can you maybe go slower?”

            Thankfully for all of them, the Hessian wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t immediately halt at Moth’s more unsure, I’m growing overloaded, please stop what you’re doing tone of voice. H seemed to take a moment, regathering himself a little before he went through a few more signs. Big wondered if part of the reason that he and Moth had been having so much trouble before was simply because H was so out of it, he was practically signing individual words like a drunk man babbled through various non sequiturs.

            But the words were a lot more clear this time around, Big able to clearly read thank you, sorry, party, and…what was that, prank?

            “Somebody prank you, H? Is that why you’re missing your head?”

            Certainly was a pertinent question, though the Hessian tensed like a man who was hanging onto his temper with both hands. He proceeded to push himself up to sit, making a noise that sounded like a frustrated growl melting into an angry holler, a brief gout of spectral flame shooting forth from his neck and into the air.

            “Headless Horseman.” Missus Edith’s sharper words snapped through the air like a whip crack, the Hessian immediately jolting from his earlier fury and tensing up for an entirely different reason, hurriedly signing a somewhat sloppy sorry.

            “It’s alright, though please use your words. We did just get finished cleaning up.” 

            It was an innocent remark, though it seemed to remind H of the fact that Harriet’s birthday party had been that night, the Hessian sagging forward with a very downtrodden sigh. He made a few more signs, sorry, mistake, birthday, missed birthday, and a much more regretful sorry before he finally let his hands fall.

            “Hey, it’s okay, H. Knowing you, you probably were trying to get home—” Big had been about to more or less scoop the downed Horseman off the floor, when a smell emanating from around the spectral Hessian’s neck caught his nose. “Uh, unless you were having a bit too much fun with somebody tonight?”

            “You weren’t drinking, were you?” Missus Edith asked with a somewhat sharper tone, and while Big wasn’t sure they’d get much of an answer out of H when he was in this state, maybe it was a fair enough question to ask. Especially when he’d pretty much staggered his way into the house and was unable to put one foot in front of the other. But the Horseman didn’t seem to have a completely coherent answer for that one either, signing out no, one, and wrong.

            “…You, got the wrong drink?” Moth asked in the ensuing quiet as everyone tried to puzzle that out, H lifting his hands again before seemingly running out of steam and slumping with a much more exhausted-sounding sigh.