Sleep evaded me most of the night. Despite the exhaustion of the day’s events, my mind refused to turn off. I kept reaching out with my magical senses to feel for Woods, who still refused to sleep in the farmhouse with the rest of us. Right now, he was alone in the forest, but Finn and Skye also weren’t far away from him, so I wasn’t too worried.

I looked around at the sleeping sprites in my room, all of whom were sprawled in various positions. Rock had somehow fallen off my bed, like he did almost every night, and was now curled up in a blanket on the floor. Maple was under my pillow, and Clay was sprawled across the top, taking up all the room where my head should have been. Holly slept on top of the blanket, while Flint was somewhere underneath it. Reed and Ivy stayed outside on my porch. I knew both sprites had been shaken by the day’s events, but staying awake all night wasn’t going to help anyone.

Sighing, I laid back and pushed Clay over so I could rest my head on my pillow. He whimpered but remained asleep. Around dawn, I finally felt myself drifting off, but awoke an hour or so later to the sound of soft rain pattering against my roof. I heard Reed’s telltale snoring, indicating he and Ivy had made their way to my room sometime while I was asleep.

Sleepily, I pulled myself from the warm bed and dragged myself to my kitchen table. I mentally reached to the south again, making sure that Woods was still there—which he was.

Briefly, I wondered if I should just go back to sleep. The rain would take care of watering my crops, and lately, the sprites had taken over feeding the animals, so I could depend on them to complete the bulk of the morning chores. I sighed. If I went to sleep now, it would probably throw off Bessie’s milking schedule. That was one task the sprites were too small to accomplish on their own.

I grabbed my bag, dressed in my everyday work attire, and stepped out into the wet spring morning. My boots squelched in the mud as I made my way to the barn and was greeted by a loud moo from Bessie and an accompanying whinny from Goldie. The air inside the barn was a few degrees warmer, and the smell of hay permeated the humid air. The animals seemed to be growing fonder of me—probably because they associated me with food. I filled both animals’ troughs and gave them each a pat on the nose as I did so.

Bessie mooed again in appreciation, and I left both animals to their breakfast, making my way to the milking room. The milking room’s refrigerator was a dairy treasure trove, brimming with countless jars of fresh milk. Thick cream adorned the upper third of each jar. As I poked through the fridge, I couldn’t help but notice that a few bore the telltale signs of having been sampled—unmistakable evidence that the sprites had gotten into them. Despite their snacking, a considerable surplus of milk remained.

I smiled. I’d been saving the milk so Rowan and I could make cheese eventually, but the dwarf hadn’t been by yet with the ingredients I’d need. Apparently, dwarven cheese required some special enzymes, and it was an intricate process of heating the milk to the perfect temperature. I shrugged. The milk would stay good for a few more days, and if the fridge got too full, I could always put some in the dropbox to sell. That was, if the sprites didn’t get to it first.

After a few minutes, I returned to the cow with an empty pail and began milking. It was a task I’d never foreseen myself doing but was getting pretty good at. I’d whittled the chore down to only ten minutes. I patted Bessie on the nose again and stood to leave. The cow looked at me with her huge brown eyes, as if pleading for something. Lately, I’d let both animals wander the pasture after feeding and milking.

“Sorry girl, you can’t go outside in the rain,” I said softly. “You’ll get sick.”

She dipped her head low but otherwise didn’t make a fuss. I felt bad she’d be cooped up all day, but the sprites would visit her and brush out her shaggy hair.

Transferring the frothy milk from the pail into two glass jars, I placed them both in the refrigerator and headed to the chicken coop. The chickens were all in their nesting boxes, some of them softly clucking as they stirred from their sleep. I grabbed the eggs out from under them and ran back to the farmhouse, trying to stay as dry as possible as the rain began to come down harder.

Maple was up and in the process of lighting the stove. I put the basket of eggs next to her and she got to work, cracking them into the shiny metal pan I’d recently bought her.

I sat at the kitchen table, feeling exhausted from my night of no sleep. I wondered how Finn, Woods, and Skye were doing south of the farm. There was a small shelter we’d built down there—no doubt the sprites were all staying there now to avoid the rain. I needed to go there at some point to see how much Woods remembered from his time as a corrupt bear. He probably had a million questions, and I knew Finn couldn’t answer them all.

Clay burst into the kitchen with a huge grin on his face. “It’s Reed’s birthday today! And Woods is back! That means we have two things to celebrate!” He leapt up to the kitchen window and peered out at the fat raindrops, “And it’s raining! That means there will be lots of good mud to throw!”

I sighed. Sprite birthdays were something I had a love-hate relationship with. Today, I knew I would hate it. My pond was cold, and the heating crystal Leia had given me was starting to fail, only heating the pond to a bearable temperature instead of a comfortable one.

Reed was the next sprite to wake, and he waved as he sleepily exited my room.

“Happy Birthday, Reed,” I said cheerfully. “How old are you turning today?”

A thoughtful look crossed his face as if he were trying to remember. “Three hundred and thirty… six, I think. It’s hard to remember when you start to get up there.” He reached into his bag and pulled out his fishing pole. “Want to go fishing in the river?”

“Of course. Let’s go after breakfast.”

Reed nodded and came to sit by me, placing his fishing pole on the table between us. The smell of cooking eggs and warm bread filled the kitchen. My stomach growled.

“How did it go with the others last night?” I asked, keeping my voice low so the other sprites couldn’t hear. My gaze shifted to Clay, who was still by the window watching the downpour.

Reed shrugged. “Well enough, I guess. Everyone was so happy to be together again, and Woods was back to his old self. On the surface, anyway.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

Reed leaned in and said softly, “He seems more reserved than he was before. Quieter. Like a shadow of the sprite all of us remember.” He heaved a sigh. “It must be the shock of coming out of corruption sickness. With time, maybe he’ll come out of it. But I don’t know.”

I gave Reed an encouraging smile. “I’m sure he will. Woods is a tough old sprite. Going through what he has would traumatize anybody.”

At that moment, Maple put two plates in front of us, a small one for Reed and a human-sized one for me. Both were piled with the appropriate amounts of scrambled eggs and buttered toast. We proceeded to quickly scarf down the food then got to our feet a couple minutes later, Reed resting his fishing pole on his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Clay asked around a mouthful of breakfast. “Can I come?”

Before either of us could reply, Holly appeared from out of the bedroom. Her red hair was a frizzy mess from sleeping. “Clay, you promised you’d help me make flower crowns today with the new spring blossoms.”

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Clay sighed, looking down at his plate of half-eaten eggs. “Fine. But I don’t want you teasing me about not being a fast flower picker.”

She sat next to him and grabbed a slice of toast, smiling sweetly. “No promises.”

Reed spoke up after a few seconds. “Clay, we’re going to celebrate my birthday this afternoon, when Matt and I return from fishing. That’ll be plenty of time for the rain to make lots of mud.”

I groaned inwardly, but this seemed to brighten Clay’s mood.

“Yes!” he cheered before shoveling another mound of eggs into his mouth.

A few minutes later, Reed and I embarked on the walk to the north of my farm.

“This is perfect weather for fishing,” Reed said, not caring that his boots and pant legs quickly became soaked from walking through puddles.

“I know,” I replied, grinning. “You say that every time it rains.”

“Because it’s true!”

***

When we reached the riverbank, I got out my fishing pole and sat by Reed who had already cast his line into the flowing water.

After a minute, he pulled out a small amber bottle and sighed as he scanned the label. “I guess now that Woods is truly back, I should get rid of this.” He uncorked the top.

“What is that?” I asked, curiously eyeing the small bottle.

“It’s ale. Finn gave it to me.” Reed gave me a sidelong smile. “You’re not the only one who Woods has forbidden to drink.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re telling me you’ve been tipsy this whole time? Since Woods disappeared?”

Reed shook his head. “Not every day. Just the extra hard ones. Or whenever I got stressed out. Or whenever Holly started a fight with someone. Which… I now realize was pretty much every day.” I chuckled, but Reed stared longingly at the bottle. “I’m not cut out to be the leader of the sprites,” he said, “even if I am the oldest after Woods. So many different personalities. I’ll be glad when Woods gets his spark back.” He sighed, and it looked like he was about to tip the bottle toward the water.

“Just drink it,” I said, stopping him. “No point in wasting it. It’s your birthday, and I won’t tell a soul.” I felt a slight tug on my line. It went away a second later, but I knew there was probably a fish testing out my bait.

“Do you want some?” Reed asked, offering me the tiny bottle.

I frowned at it. I was pretty sure there were only a few sips in that bottle, and I would empty it in a single swig.

“It’s enchanted,” Reed explained. “Bigger on the inside.”

“Oh. All right.” I took the bottle, sniffing it before taking a long pull. I felt kind of silly, drinking from such a tiny bottle, but I downed several gulps before handing it back to Reed. He, in turn, took several large gulps, and for the next half hour or so, we took turns passing the bottle back and forth before it was finally empty.

“Woods is going to be so mad,” I said, starting to feel giddy. The ale seemed stronger than normal.

“Woods isn’t going to find out,” Reed said, returning the empty bottle to his backpack. He gave me a sly smile. “He thinks I’ve been sober for two hundred years now, and I’m not about to tell him otherwise.”

I chuckled again, and a split-second later, there was another hard tug on my fishing line. I pulled back, reeling it in, but my movements felt slow as molasses. After some struggle, I pulled in a good-sized trout. It was the color of molten silver mixed with jade, and its slimy body wriggled in my hands. I tossed it into my bag, the fish still writhing.

“You’re not going to put it in a bucket? Or wait for it to die first?” Reed asked, his words slurring.

“Why would I?” I asked, struggling to bait my hook while seeing double.

“If it’s still alive, it won’t be considered an item. It’ll just be free in your bag. Flopping around. Until it dies.” Reed was obviously trying to hold back laughter. “Remember when Flint, Woods and I rode in your bag when we visited Crimsonshores?”

I grinned and nodded, unable to truly process what he was saying. Sober me would’ve been horrified at the thought of a fish freely wriggling around in my bag, but tipsy me thought it was hilarious. My mind felt fuzzy, and my thoughts blurred together. At that moment, Reed’s line went taut, and the sprite was caught off guard and pulled into the river.

I panicked, clumsily stripping off my boots to jump in after him. Before I could dive in, however, Reed came to the surface, floating on his back, a huge smile on his face. He held up something gold and shiny.

“Matt! I found this ring at the bottom of the river!”

I blinked several times, feeling intense déjà vu, like I’d seen this somewhere in a movie. This always seemed to happen whenever I got drunk. I always recalled and acted out movies or video games from my world. That was originally why Woods had banned me from drinking, as I’d once stolen his hat while pretending to be Link from the ‘Legend of Zelda.’

“Well, Reed, you keep it. It’s your birthday.” I put my hands on my hips, turning downriver and looking off into the distance dramatically. “But if a bunch of ring wraiths come after you, I’m not walking to Mordor and tossing it into a volcano to save everybody. I don’t have that kind of time.”

A concerned look crossed Reed’s face, then he dropped the ring back into the water. “Better not risk it.” He swam against the soft current to shore, and I helped him out of the water.

After shaking himself dry, he pulled a long stick from his pack, longer than should’ve been possible. I’d learned that Reed was a master crafter, crafting everything from enchanted inventory bags to magical bottles. I watched him as he pulled some fishing line out of his bag and crafted a new fishing rod from the items he’d brought. He baited his hook and tossed it into the water. With some difficulty, I cast my line as well.

After a few more hours, and several more caught fish, we returned to the farmhouse. Maple gave us both a flat look as we laid the fish we’d caught on the counter. She crossed her arms and gave Reed a knowing look.

“I know, I know,” Reed said as if answering her unasked question, “but I didn’t drink it all myself. Matt helped me.”

I gave Maple a little wave, and she rolled her eyes.

“But look! We have plenty to eat for dinner now,” Reed said. “And since we drank the last of the ale, now there won’t be any more temptation!”

Maple just shook her head and began preparing the fish for consumption.

***

The rain had turned the ground into goopy sludge, and I could hear the joyful laughter of the sprites gathered outside. As I stepped into the open, I instantly found myself coated in a layer of thick mud. The sprites, reveling in the muddy playground, erupted into a chorus of giggles. My gaze darted around, noting the conspicuous absence of Woods and Finn. However, the remaining sprites were clearly having a blast, particularly Clay, who sported a very impressive mud coating.

Despite lingering tipsiness, I mustered the coordination to launch a retaliation against the sprites, and Rock bore the brunt of my counterattack. Once the celebration had run its course, the sprites retreated into the forest and I made my way toward the pond. The rain had somewhat abated, but a few raindrops danced across the pond’s surface.

A brisk dip in the water washed away the mud clinging to my skin, but it couldn’t rid me of the burgeoning headache courtesy of my drink with Reed.

Eventually, I withdrew to my farmhouse, closing the bedroom door behind me. There weren’t any sprites around, and I liked the solitude of my room. The quiet within offered a respite, which was welcome given the persistent, dull throb of my ale-induced headache. Clumsily, I stumbled to the bed, my body yearning for rest. My boot collided with the old chest that had once belonged to my grandfather and sent me sprawling. I turned to glare at the old, beat-up chest. It was a magical object, and the sole survivor of the fire that had consumed my farmhouse. It had been a while since I’d opened it.

Sighing, I unlatched the chest. Inside lay a collection of trinkets. None of them were particularly useful or expensive, but I had my reasons for holding onto each item.

Among them, my old cellphone, a relic from my life on Earth, nestled beside the funeral attire and dress shoes I’d worn when I was first pulled into this world. They were the only remnants of my former life, physical evidence that I was indeed from a different world. Looking at them didn’t feel real, as I could scarcely recall the night of Grandpa’s funeral. That night, along with the first few days in this world, had been a blur. They felt like a lifetime ago.

There was also an old pocket watch that I’d gotten from fishing with Reed in Crimsonshores. I smiled as I picked it up, recalling the memory of first meeting Melvin and Finn. I wasn’t sure why I still held onto it, as Woods and Finn had both told me it had a high chance of being cursed, but I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it yet.

Next to the pocket watch was a tiny fish carving. It had been gifted to me by Carter at the Harvest Festival, a small token of gratitude for saving his life when he fell into the river.

Also in the chest was the sprite signal that had summoned the sprites to my farm. I remembered haphazardly throwing it into the chest, not wanting to give it back to Woods because, deep down, I knew I needed all the help that I could get. I briefly wondered if he wanted it back, or if he’d forgotten all about it.

I didn’t dare touch the final item in the box, as even looking at it brought a sinking feeling to my stomach. Nestled among the trinkets was a hideous knitted sweater. A riot of clashing colors and itchy yarn made up the sweater, yet I couldn’t bring myself to part with it. Not yet. Maybe one day I would work up the courage to get rid of it, but right now, it stayed tucked away in the chest. Just like the feelings associated with the person who gave it to me, I wasn’t ready to deal with it yet. I knew when the time came, I would just have to burn it and accept the fact that it was gone. That she was gone. But that was a problem that future Matt was going to have to deal with.

Closing the chest, I moved to the bed and sank into the sheets, relishing the extra space from the absence of the sprites. The events of the past few days had taken their toll, and I quickly surrendered to the embrace of exhaustion.