The orchard was quickly becoming the most grueling project of spring—possibly my life.

I’d carved out a small plot of land, but soon realized that it wasn’t enough space to accommodate the number of trees needed. I had to expand the plot significantly, clear it of all weeds and boulders, and then turn the dirt several times before it could be suitable for planting. Clay took a handful of dirt and rubbed it between his fingers, licking it like nacho dust from a bag of Doritos. My nose crinkled involuntarily, but I didn’t say anything.

“Sorry, Matt. This soil is still really poor quality. Maybe some fertilizer would boost it a rank or two?”

I sighed. This stretch of ground had missed out on the forest fire’s renewing properties, and the soil remained as barren as ever. I could also tell by looking at it, though I hoped it wasn’t the case. This soil, unlike the dark soil of the fields, was dry and silty—almost like dust.

As much as I’d hated Woods’ lectures on farming through the spring and summer of last year, they’d been extremely informative and—dare I admit it—helpful. While Clay knew a little about farming, he barely knew more than me, which wasn’t ideal. Woods had been the expert, and I wished that he was still around to help me with the orchard. I would have to solve this problem on my own, however. I dredged up all of Woods’ lectures I’d actively blocked out over the seasons and tried to remember everything he’d said about planting trees.

I needed at least nine trees for them to cross pollinate, but they needed to be at least nine feet apart from one another. Applepeaches weren’t an especially fussy tree, and they did grow exceptionally well in Sagewood’s climate, but I knew if I planted them too close together, it would stunt their growth, therefore stunting the amount of fruit I’d get in the coming years. Even with all my efforts in expansion, there just wasn’t enough room for nine trees, nine feet apart. Not yet, at least.

Establishing a completely new planting field presented its challenges, but I knew the effort would pay off. If I executed it perfectly from the start, it would mean I’d only have to sow it once, and every coming season the orchard would endlessly yield fruits. With a sigh, I retrieved my shovel and began the task at hand. Expanding the field’s boundaries was the first step. Soil quality concerns could wait until after the field was widened.

Clay watched me thoughtfully but remained quiet. I worked through the morning hours, into the afternoon. By the time I took a break, I was drenched in sweat, and still only about a third done with my project. I laid down on a grassy patch next to Clay, utterly exhausted.

“Why make it bigger? Why not just plant fewer trees?” Clay asked.

I grabbed a canteen of water from my bag, downing it before answering Clay. “I need enough trees for them to pollinate each other. I checked the other day to see if there were any self-fertile varieties, and there aren’t. At least not applepeach trees.”

Clay knit his eyebrows together. “What does pollinate mean?”

I closed my eyes, trying to remember everything I’d learned in my eighth-grade biology class. I also needed to be able to translate what I remembered into something that Clay could understand. Pollination talks could easily lead to other subjects I wasn’t as comfortable discussing with the young and ever-curious sprite. “There’s like, this dust, that trees make, called pollen.”

“Dust?” Clay asked. I was already doing a poor job of explaining.

“Not really dust, more like—spores. These spores are called pollen. Trees need pollen to help create fruit. They can only get it from other trees, so the other trees need to be close by, but not so close that they don’t have room for their roots to grow.” I looked to Clay, and he nodded slowly in understanding.

“I think Woods told me that once.”

A sad smile made its way to my face at the mention of Woods, and I nodded. “I need to have enough trees to make pollen, so that all of them will be able to grow fruit.”

“I think I get it. So, that’s why you’re making the orchard bigger, instead of just planting fewer trees?”

“Exactly,” I said, satisfied where the conversation had gone. Clay was curious, and sometimes he asked questions that I didn’t feel like I could answer. Even though he was technically older than me, he was considered young in sprite years, basically still a child.

“What does fertile mean?” Clay asked, and I exhaled slowly. It seemed I hadn’t entirely dodged a bullet, and I would need to pick my next words carefully to avoid any other questions. Before I could answer, Clay’s eyes went wide, and then narrowed. “Can you feel those auras, Matt?”

I knit my eyebrows together and focused on my magical sense perk, feeling everyone’s aura on the farm. I could sense all the sprites in various places, most of them in the barn with the animals. All of them felt familiar to me.

“What auras are you talking about, Clay?” I asked, but the sprite seemed lost in thought, focusing on something just out of the grasp of my senses, meaning it was just outside the boundaries of my farm.

Reaching out my sense father south, I picked up Finn’s aura immediately. His magic was akin to the waves of the sea, so starkly different from what Woods’ used to be, even though they were brothers.

Melvin the wizard had come by that morning, as he had the past few mornings, and he was in the same area as Finn. Melvin’s magical aura was weaker than the sprites’, but still stronger than any other human that ventured onto my farm. I briefly wondered what they were doing, but my thoughts shifted as I felt Woods. His aura was barely there, just a blip, like a flickering candle about to go out. My heart sank, and I turned back to Clay, grateful he couldn’t sense Woods’ aura. None of the sprites could—he was something else, now, not an animal, not a monster, not even a sprite. Perhaps the only reason I could feel his aura was because I was the farm’s sole owner.

Something caught my attention to the south, and I turned my senses to that area again. Something strange was happening with Finn’s magical aura, as it was faltering slightly, something I’d never sensed before. I frowned, trying hard to concentrate on the sensation. It seemed to dip slightly in power, making it harder to recognize. I looked to the south.

“What the heck is going on over there?” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I turned back to Clay, expecting him to be looking southward as well, but instead, Clay was staring to the east, toward the dirt path that led to Sagewood. While my farming perk only let me feel magic within the boundaries of my farm, sprites could often sense magical beings beyond.

I swallowed hard. What had the sprite sensed?

“Matt!” Reed yelled out, running toward us from the barn. His voice was panicked. Ivy was close behind him, followed a few paces behind by Rock.

Reed stopped in front of Clay, then turned to address Rock. “You need to get him out of here, far away, as deep into the forest as you guys can go. They’ve probably already sensed him but do your best.”

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Rock nodded, his lips a thin line. Probably one of his more emotional facial expressions.

“Wait—no—Reed, what’s happening?” Clay asked as Rock slung him over his shoulder and lumbered off toward the western forest. Clay kicked and screamed, but Rock was much bigger, and he paid no attention to the smallest sprite’s petitions to be set down.

I turned to look at Reed. “What’s going on? Why is Rock taking Clay away—”

Reed pointed to the road leading into town.

“There are four magical auras coming fast to your farm. I’m not sure, but I suspect they’re other sprites, especially with how strong they are.”

Ivy chimed in, glaring in the direction of the newcomers. “There’s no good reason for other sprites to be this far north.”

“You don’t think—” Reed began, his eyes widening as Ivy nodded, her features dark.

“Southern sprites.” She spat the words like a curse.

Reed grimaced, scrunching his face up in disgust. “Not southern sprites.”

“What? What’s so bad about southern sprites?” I asked. I only knew of nine sprites. Woods, Finn, Reed, Ivy, Maple, Rock, Flint, Holly, and Clay.

I knew more existed, but Woods had told me that even across Etheria, their numbers were few. The thought of meeting new sprites was both exciting and unnerving at the same time. I glanced at Ivy and Reed, both of whom looked annoyed at the prospect of new sprites visiting my farm. Why, though?

Ivy gave me a withering look. “They’re sprites that hail from the Southern Isles,” she explained. “They’re… quite a bit different than other sprites. You’ll find out in about two minutes, I’m sure. Just don’t mention the others, especially not Clay.”

Reed nodded at her words and gave me a pointed look.

I swallowed hard. A million questions flooded my head, one rising to the surface. Why Clay specifically?

I strained my magical senses to cover the entirety of the farm, noticing that Maple, Flint, and Holly had moved to the west to join Clay and Rock. Finn’s magical aura was still oddly fluctuating in the south, but I didn’t think too much of it, because of the close proximity of Melvin’s aura. Whatever was happening to Finn, the wizard would have to deal with it, there were more pressing matters right now. New sprites were coming to the farm. I wondered what would make Reed and Ivy act this way toward other sprites, especially when there were so few of them left.

Just as Reed had said, four tiny silhouettes appeared on the road, running toward us in a blur, kicking up a dust cloud as they came. I had to squint to make them out, as they all were around a foot and a half tall.

The four sprites stopped in front of us, giving Reed, Ivy, and I an assessing look. There were two males and two females in this little entourage. I could now sense each of their unique magical auras, as well as see their names briefly flash above their heads.

Alder

Skye

Coal

Fern

They were dressed in mottled clothes and bright white cloaks but wore the distinctive colored hats that I’d come to associate with their kind. Additionally, they appeared swarthier than the sprites on my farm, with tan skin and extremely light-colored hair, a stark combination. Their eyes ranged from bright red to a vibrant orange to striking yellow and blue. I stared for a few long seconds. The southern sprites looked like Clay the most—the resemblance seemed too close to be a coincidence. Was Clay actually a southern sprite? If so, how did he end up in the north? Why was there so much friction between the two groups in the first place?

My gaze drifted to the weapons the sprites carried. They all appeared to be armed to the teeth. Each one not only had a weapon strapped to their back, but had several strapped across their chests and around their waists as well. One of the newcomer sprites, Coal, had small, textured spheres attached to his belt that were dark in color. Are those… bombs?!

Alder, the one with light blond hair, orange eyes and a light blue hat, spoke up first, breaking the silence between us. He turned to the sprites next to me. “Reed. Ivy,” he said coldly. “I see you two are still hanging around with big folk.” Alder glared up at me, showing his obvious distaste toward humans. To my utter delight, however, his voice was tinged with an accent that sounded like he hailed from Texas. Southern sprites indeed, I thought, trying to keep a smile from my face as the sprite narrowed his eyes at me.

Reed stayed silent, but that didn’t stop Ivy from snapping back.

“Better than hanging around with you, Alder. At least this farmer has the sense to bathe every once in a while.”

Alder’s glare shifted to her.

I cleared my throat loudly. “I’m Matt. Welcome to my farm.” I glanced between the two groups. “Do you all know each other, then?” I didn’t really need introductions due to my sixth sense farming perk, but I was hoping that introductions might make the two groups friendlier toward each other. All the sprites nodded coldly.

“We all know each other,” Ivy said, her voice low, as she gave me a sidelong glance.

“Oh. All right then. What brings you sprites up north?” I tried to keep my voice casual. I’d seen how powerful sprites could be, so staying on their good side would be a smart move if I wanted to stay alive—though I was pretty sure Reed and Ivy would defend me if it came to blows. Still, I had no idea what animal forms these other sprites had, and I wasn’t keen on finding out that way. On top of that, they outnumbered us—not only in group size, but in sheer volume of weaponry.

Skye, the female sprite with long straight hair that was white with a slight hint of pink, stepped forward. “We’re tracking a shadow beast, a grizzly bear. There’re several reports of it attacking caravans farther north.” She too had a slight southern accent.

I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Reed stiffened slightly at her words. Hopefully, the other sprites hadn’t picked up on his almost imperceptible change of posture.

“Have you heard anything about that?” Skye asked, her vibrant red eyes flicking to Reed. She gave him a friendly smile, although I could see predatory undertones beneath the surface.

Reed swallowed hard.

“I haven’t heard of anything like that around here,” I said, frowning. “Why would sprites be bothered by something like that? We have guards and Barons to deal with those kinds of threats.”

All the southern sprites’ features darkened. Fern, the other female sprite, spoke up now. Out of all the others, she carried the least number of weapons, and appeared to be the more academic type than the fighter type. “We have reason to believe the shadow beast is a sprite that’s attacking people. Are you sure you haven’t heard of anything like that around here?”

“Fern, you’re giving this simple farmer too much information,” Alder scolded his companion. “He probably doesn’t even know what a shadow beast is.”

Fern looked toward the ground, focusing on her boots. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“Well, you heard Matt,” Ivy said after a brief silence. “We haven’t had anything like that happen around here. Maybe you’d have better luck farther north.” She narrowed her eyes and added, “Or maybe you’d better go back to the Southern Isles and leave the rest of us alone. Besides, if there was a corrupt bear, it would be dead before the rumors even reached the south sea. Even if it was a sprite.”

Alder glared at Ivy. “Where are the other sprites that live on this farm?”

Reed and Ivy exchanged a look. “We’re the only two,” Reed answered.

Alder smiled. “I sensed at least two others. There’s no point in hiding them from us. We’re just trying to be thorough. We really don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“This is just a witch hunt based on senseless rumors,” Ivy fired back. “How many people have died from bear attacks recently? None. You have nothing to go off of. There aren’t any sprites here attacking people.”

Not anymore, I thought. I reached out my sixth sense, feeling for the auras of the wizard and the sprite brothers. I noticed Finn’s was still faltering, while Melvin’s stayed constant and familiar. I felt around for Woods but couldn’t even pick up his usual weak response. My breathing quickened as I strained the sense. There was no third aura to the south. I blinked. What happened to Woods? I felt tears sting my eyes as I felt again and again but detected no third aura. This couldn’t be happening, not now. Maybe he’s escaped? I felt all around the farm, straining to pick up his weak magic. Nothing.

“Bring the other sprites and we’ll interview them,” Alder demanded. “After that’s complete, we’ll be on our way.”

“No,” Ivy said, crossing her arms defiantly. “You’ll leave now.”

Fern stepped between Alder and Ivy, raising her hands in a placating gesture.

“Please, Ivy, we just want to keep everyone safe. We’ve been hunting this bear for weeks now, we just want to make sure it doesn’t do any more damage.”

Reed glanced up at me, noticing my stricken, vacant stare. “Matt, is everything all right?”

“I forgot… I have to check on something. Something farming related. I’ll be back.” With that, I ran southward, leaving the sprites to their tense conversation.