Guiding Goldie back to her stall, I couldn’t help but feel accomplished at how far I’d come in the skill of horseback riding. Well, I felt both accomplished and sore. But mostly accomplished. This morning, I’d ridden along the entire northern path, and I could tell Goldie appreciated the exercise. As I patted her neck and filled her food trough, a grateful whinny confirmed our strengthening bond. This morning’s ride marked our longest together so far. And man could I feel it. Riding bareback was surely taking its toll, and I figured it was past time I got a saddle or something to make our rides more comfortable.

After putting the horse away, I spent the rest of the morning searching for Rowan, eventually finding him with his son down by the river, fishing. He’d been ecstatic when I asked him to set me up with his cousin, so ecstatic that he’d told me he’d make it happen that night, and that I should be at the inn a little before sundown—wearing my most manly attire. I had no idea what that meant.

As I walked back to my farm, I tried not to think too much about the date. My stomach flipped every time I did. I’d never been good at dating before coming to this world, and blind dates had always filled me with anxiety. But a blind date with a dwarf might be different, I thought to myself, unable to quell the gnawing feeling of dread.

It was still early, and the morning dew had taken care of my watering of the fields, so I walked past them and made my way to the south of the farm. Melvin was already there, furiously scribbling notes as he observed Woods. The bear still hadn’t woken up, but slight changes could be seen. He was looking healthier, even strong, which both excited and worried me. Will he be the same old Woods as before? Or will he break out of his prison and kill us all?

“Your sprite friend seems to be doing a lot better,” Melvin said as I approached. “I can’t get him to wake up, though. Maybe in a few days he’ll come to?”

I paused. The Forest Spirit had told me that Woods lacked sufficient magical energy to change forms again, and I hoped that was still the case. “Maybe it’s good he hasn’t woken up yet.” I swallowed hard. It was much easier to cage a giant bear than it was to cage a sprite, and it was unclear if he was still corrupted. When I focused on him, my magic sensing perk that usually labeled creatures didn’t label him as anything. It was as if he wasn’t there, but I could still pick up his aura. It was all very odd.

“Can you sense anything different?” Melvin asked.

I drew my eyebrows together. The aura felt different, no longer addled and angry like it had been weeks ago. This aura was a familiar echo of what it had been previously—like pushing up against a great rooted tree, stark and unmoving. Today, it even seemed to push back. Melvin must’ve noticed the surprise on my face because he was instantly curious.

“What’s happening? Describe it in detail.” He got his pen ready.

“I think,” I began, staring at Woods for a long moment, “what you and Finn did might have worked. At least a little.” Just then, Woods stirred, stretching his massive paws in front of him while keeping his eyes closed. Melvin and I held our breath, but the bear went back to its unmoving, slumbering state.

“Huzzah!” Melvin cheered as he hastily scribbled into his notebook, making me jump slightly at his outburst.

I shifted my focus from the bear, searching the area around us for Finn’s magical aura. When I didn’t find it, I turned back to Melvin. “Where is Finn, by the way?” I asked. “I haven’t seen him for a while.” He’d barely left Woods’ side since the transfusion spell, but I couldn’t even find his aura on the farm. I did, however, sense the immense power of a nature spirit nearby, and by the flowing sensation, I could tell that it was the River Spirit. I turned to the trees where she was hiding. “You can come out,” I called. “Melvin’s a friend.”

“What did you say, Matt? Wait… what—” Melvin turned to the River Spirit, his eyes going wide.

“Melvin, have you ever met a nature spirit before?” I asked as the watery figure formed before us.

He shook his head, speechless, his mouth open and his eyes wide. The color drained from his face, and he took a step back in shock, nearly tripping over his robe.

“Great. Just treat them like normal people, no need for fancy manners or anything.”

The River Spirit didn’t pay Melvin any mind. Instead, she flowed over to the makeshift prison, her translucent eyes regarding Woods with a curious expression. “I noticed that Woods is starting to heal. Can I ask what happened?” Her warbling voice was low, but she sounded intrigued.

I turned to Melvin, who was still gawking at the nature spirit. I cleared my throat, but he remained speechless. After a few seconds of his awkward silence, I chimed in with my own explanation.

"Finn and my wizard friend here decided to go rogue and try some experimental magic on him,” I said. “From what I understand, they transferred some of Finn’s magical essence into Woods… like a transfusion of sorts.”

“Fascinating,” the spirit replied. “Where did you come up with the idea to try something like that?”

I stared at Melvin for a while, but the wizard remained mute.

“It was my grandfather, actually,” I said at length, speaking on his behalf again. “He once told Melvin about a medical procedure from my home world. He used that principle and applied it to magic here.”

The spirit’s watery lips drew into a thin line. “Normally, I would advise against such reckless experimentation,” she said. “A being’s magical signature is unique to them. Meddling with such matters can be extremely dangerous. That’s why I seldom approve of wizards, witches, and sorcerers.” Her expression turned thoughtful once again. “Still,” she continued, “I can’t argue with what you’ve managed to achieve here. It appears the corruption sickness has been put into a stasis of sorts… though, it appears Woods is too weak to change back into his original form. Do either of you perchance have a mana potion?”

Melvin finally found his voice. “Um—I do.” He turned to me and lowered his voice significantly. “First sprites and now this. Matt, you are the only farmer I’ve ever known to associate with a nature spirit. I have so many questions—later though.” From thin air, he pulled a vial of syrupy blue liquid.

“Wait, we should think this through before rushing into giving him a mana potion. What if he’s still corrupted when he changes back? A corrupt bear is a lot easier to corral than a corrupt sprite. Also, where’s Finn? He should be the one to give Woods the potion.” We all looked around, but Finn wasn’t anywhere nearby.

I turned back to the River Spirit. “Plus, tonight… I have a thing. I don’t want to be worried about what’s happening on my farm while I’m gone.” Melvin and the River Spirit looked at me curiously, their eyes prodding. I exhaled loudly. “I have… a date. I arranged it this morning, and I can’t really back out now.”

Melvin frowned. “Can’t you move your date to another night? This is the most advanced research ever performed on a corrupted being.”

I shook my head emphatically.

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Melvin sighed and put away the syringe and mana potion. “Fine, we’ll wait until tomorrow. Hopefully, Finn will be back by then.”

The River Spirit changed the subject. “Did you enlist the Cave Spirit to help with your orchard project?”

I nodded. I’d finally finished expanding the plot to accommodate the number of trees needed for cross-pollination. After the irrigation pipes were in place, I could finally plant the orchard, completing one of my biggest spring projects.

“Very well, then. Tonight, while you’re gone, the Cave Spirit and I will complete the watering system you requested.”

Melvin’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, his wrinkles stacking like ready-made pancakes. “Could I possibly… observe you?”

The River Spirit rolled her eyes. “I suppose you could watch us work. But no funny business, do you understand wizard? The last magic user I met tried to bottle my essence and turn it into some kind of anti-aging serum.”

“Of course,” Melvin said. “This will be for purely academic purposes, of course.”

The spirit didn’t respond. Instead, her watery form cascaded like a waterfall into a puddle and flowed northward back towards her river. As she departed, I saw Melvin write hastily in his book. “Do not collect nature spirit samples,” he mumbled to himself, underlining the note three times—probably to remind himself for later.

I left Melvin alone with Woods, hoping the nature spirits would be enough to distract the curious wizard, and that he wouldn’t try to do anything stupid while I was gone. The last thing I wanted was a corrupt sprite running around my farm.

***

Ivy glanced up from untangling Bessie’s hair, her fingers deftly working through the stubborn knots. It was then that she noticed Holly’s new hat for the first time. It was a jaunty little thing with a bright red pompom on the top, standing out boldly against the usual styles the sprites wore.

“That’s a cute hat,” Ivy remarked, her tone light and genuinely appreciative. “Did Reed make it for you?”

Holly let out an exaggerated sigh, the kind that seemed to suggest she was bearing the weight of the world. “Of course Reed made it for me. Reed makes all the hats.”

Ivy blinked, momentarily stunned by the sharpness in Holly’s voice. “I was just trying to make conversation.”

“I know,” Holly replied, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “Don’t.”

The silence that followed was thick with tension. Ivy returned to her task, a small smile playing on her lips as she continued to work on Bessie’s tangled hair. Holly might be prickly, but there was something almost endearing about her sour attitude. It reminded Ivy of Woods.

The dwarven cow had been a fun addition to the farm, though she’d added extra chores for Matt, who was already swamped with the spring planting season. Without Woods to help him, Ivy could tell that he was getting overwhelmed. Naturally, the sprites had taken on some of the chores, especially those involving the animals. Clay and Rock oversaw the chickens, making sure they were fed and had fresh water. Holly and Ivy were working on brushing out Bessie’s shaggy hair, a task that was not only time-consuming but also required a gentle touch. They hadn’t brushed Goldie’s mane yet, but they’d probably have time later that day.

Ivy turned back to Holly, who somehow managed to exude unfriendliness even when silent. Still, Ivy couldn’t resist poking the bear a bit.

“Where did you get the idea for the pompom? It’s so… you.”

Holly glared at Ivy, and Ivy had to stifle a laugh.

“What is this, twenty questions? Why are you asking?”

Ivy shrugged, letting the subject drop. She didn’t really care about the hat, but with how much Holly was annoying everyone on the farm with her terrible attitude and relentless pranks, it was fun to get back at her a bit. Plus, Ivy knew exactly why Holly was more cross than usual lately.

Holly had just celebrated her birthday this past winter season and had now reached that dreaded age: seventy-five. It’s the age when every sprite started to get incredibly sassy. Well, sassier, in Holly’s case. Between seventy-five and one hundred, sprites thought they knew everything, couldn’t be told otherwise, believed they were invincible, and grew incredibly immature and disrespectful. It was a natural process all sprites went through. She’d been a young sprite herself once, and she remembered being sassy with Woods, though her backtalk had never ruffled him. If the sprites were going to make it through the next twenty-five years, she needed to learn how to be level-headed like Woods.

Ivy shook her head, a sad smile playing on her lips. It was just part of growing up for sprites. She’d survived her own sassy years, and she was determined to survive Holly’s too.

Matt had dubbed it the ‘teenage dirtbag phase,’ and even had sung a whole song about it—which was very entertaining for the sprites. Ivy didn’t quite grasp what ‘teenage’ meant, but she had a pretty good idea what a dirtbag was, and it seemed to fit perfectly. Sprites were nearly unbearable during those years, but if Woods could handle it, she could too.

She owed it to Woods, and she knew Reed wasn’t in the right state of mind to deal with Holly. A pang of guilt tugged at her as she thought about Reed. Typically, the carefree sprite would have been the first to step up and help, but lately, the weight of leadership had worn him down to a mere shadow of his former self. Ivy couldn't help but feel sorry for him. It wasn’t easy leading a group of sprites, especially during such a turbulent time.

Maple was too sensitive to handle Holly's sharp tongue, so it fell to Ivy to take charge. She needed to help Matt and keep the farm running smoothly.

“Hey, Holly,” she said after a prolonged silence, “what do you think—should we braid some flowers into Bessie’s hair?”

Holly perked up at this. “That would be… fun, actually. I’ll get Clay to help me gather some wildflowers.”

“Great. We’ll get started after lunch. Does that give you enough time to find some flowers?”

Holly gave Ivy a smirk. “Of course. It’s springtime. There’re flowers literally everywhere. Have you been outside lately?” Her tone was laced with condescension, which made Ivy’s amusement immediately dissipate.

“Yes. Great. Can’t wait.” Ivy said the words a bit too fast, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

“Are you mad at me or something?” Holly asked, her features darkening.

Ivy sighed. “No, not at all. I’m just… tired is all.” It’s only twenty-five years, Ivy reminded herself. It was going to be a long twenty-five years.

Holly shrugged and turned to walk out the barn door. “Whatever. Bye.”

Bessie mooed softly, turning her fudgy brown eyes to look at Ivy.

“I know, Bessie. We’ll get through it. Female sprites are always a little harder to manage than male sprites at that age.” Ivy sighed deeply, turning her attention to the rest of the barn.

“She’s gone, you can come out of hiding,” her voice echoed through the rafters, “You’re all lucky Holly can’t sense auras very well.”

Reed, Rock, Flint, and Clay all stumbled out of the refrigeration room, each one sporting a milk mustache and nervously looking around for Holly.

“I’m not helping her gather wildflowers later. She always makes me de-thorn the roses, which is super hard to do with one hand.”

“Yeah, she’s the worst,” Flint added, “why is she acting so awful all the time now?”

“Rock,” Rock agreed.

Reed nervously glanced at the door Holly had exited. “She’s really scary now.” He turned back to Ivy. “You and Maple weren’t ever like that, were you?”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Reed, grow a backbone. It’s just Holly. She’s like any other sprite.”

The group didn’t look confident as they exchanged sidelong glances. The sprites left Ivy to her work, but Ivy called after Reed.

He stiffened, but turned to her, a casual smile on his face. “Yes, Ivy?”

She crossed her arms in front of her, trying to look like the leader of the sprites. When the others were out of earshot, she asked, “Have you been drinking again?”

Reed widened his eyes and opened his mouth in faux shock. “What? Me? No. No way.”

Ivy gave him a flat look.

“Not… this afternoon,” Reed said at length.

“Where did you even get alcohol?”

Reed hung his head. “Finn gave it to me. I didn’t ask him where he got it.”

Ivy narrowed her eyes. For being Woods’ twin brother, Finn was a terrible sprite, and Ivy couldn’t wait until the troublemaker went back to Crimsonshores. He was a bad influence on the others. Ivy cleared her throat. “It needs to stop. What if Woods wakes up and finds out?”

Reed snorted dryly. “He’s not going to wake up, Ivy.”

Ivy’s heart sank. She knew that was probably true, but that was more reason for Reed to stop. She knew leadership wasn’t Reed’s strong suit, but someone had to step up, and he was the oldest after Woods. Ivy decided to shift subjects to something else that was weighing on her.

“Don’t you think it’s weird the southern sprites haven’t shown up again? It’s not really like them to give up so easily.”

“Hmmm,” Reed grunted, thinking it over. “Maybe they decided to go further north and leave us alone?”

Reed and Ivy exchanged sidelong glances before Reed turned to leave. He stopped in the doorway, looking back at her. “Please don’t tell Maple. About the drinking.”

Ivy sighed again, but nodded, and Reed left to follow the group.

Bessie mooed again, softer, as if consoling Ivy. Ivy ran her hand through Bessie’s tangled hair, a swirl of emotions threatening to overtake her.

“What do you say we get a little treat?” Ivy asked the cow.

Bessie mooed again, and the horse whinnied from her stall, making Ivy chuckle softly. “I’ll get you a treat too, Goldie.”