It was raining again, and I breathed in the wet, mulchy smell emanating from the saturated dirt. It hadn’t been a particularly rainy spring, but I had savored the occasional downpours when they came. Especially because it meant I didn’t have to lug water from the well for my crops. The enchanted moonbloom berries were doing especially well, growing nicely along my embermelon crops. The orchard was also thriving, the trees now as tall as my waist. To my surprise, the orchard hadn’t been flooded yet, but I’d caught both Clay and Rock messing with the spigot a few times. I trudged through the mud to the barn, my boots squelching on the slippery ground.

Bessie and Goldie were stuck inside all day, but Holly and Ivy would keep them company. The female sprites had grown adept at braiding both animals’ manes, something I just couldn’t explain whenever Rowan dropped by to check on the cheese making process. He didn’t ask questions, but I knew he wondered how I spent my time with the animals. I chuckled dryly. He probably thought I was losing it out here, all by myself. And he wouldn’t be entirely wrong.

The chickens were stuck inside their coop all day as well, but I didn’t dare venture inside when the rooster was corralled like that. I’d let Reed or Clay gather the eggs today, or I’d gather them all tomorrow. The coop was full to capacity with chickens, and I needed to either expand it, or get rid of a few of the animals. Mmmm chicken nuggets, I thought, even though I knew Clay would never let me hurt one of his precious birds.

Bessie mooed and Goldie whinnied as I entered the barn and grabbed a clean milking pail. Bessie usually produced about a pail and a half of frothy milk every day, which meant I had a surplus of dairy on my hands. The abundance of milk was enough to start another batch of cheese and keep my wallet padded with the sale of a few gallons every week. Not only was she producing a lot of milk, but the quality was also excellent, and it fetched a high price in the local markets I could reach via my dropbox.

An idea sparked in my mind as I recalled that Rowan had left a block of cheese for me, currently stored in my refrigeration room. After milking Bessie, I took the milk and carefully poured a portion into a jar, ensuring that I got most of the cream that had gathered on the surface. I stashed the rest of the milk in cold storage. Either the sprites would drink it throughout the day, or I could put it in the dropbox later that night.

Rainy days meant I didn’t have to devote so much time to my crops, so I could focus on other projects. Today’s venture involved making butter. Combined with the cheese provided by Rowan and the fresh bread Maple had baked that morning, I planned to make the only dairy-based thing I would consider eating: a grilled cheese sandwich.

Screwing a metal lid onto the jar as tight as it would go, I began shaking it. I wasn’t quite sure of the ramifications of butter-making, but I knew that agitating fresh cream enough would make the fats separate from the liquids, resulting in smooth, creamy butter. I didn’t have a butter churn, but I had some extra time to shake a jar. It was taking a while though, and my forearms started to burn.

“What… what are you doing?”

I spun, jar still in hand, to the door of the refrigeration room. Reed stood in the doorway, fishing pole in hand and a concerned look on his face.

“Butter,” I quickly said, then added, “for grilled cheese.”

Reed blinked, a confused look on his face. “What’s butter? And why would you grill cheese? That sounds disgusting.”

I held up the jar, the soft yellow fats now coagulated in a clump amidst the milky white liquid. “Let’s go to the farmhouse and I’ll show you.”

Reed put away his fishing pole and together, we trudged through the mud to the farmhouse. The smell of freshly baked bread still lingered, and we stripped off our muddy boots before we entered. Maple was in the kitchen, and she perked up when Reed walked in.

“Hi, Maple,” he said, waving to her. “Matt’s going to grill some cheese with this nasty chunky milk he made.”

Maple scrunched up her nose in disgust.

Reed offered a shrug in response. “Don’t look at me like that, it wasn’t my idea. I wanted to go fishing.”

Even with their apparent disgust, I was undeterred. “It’s good, guys, I promise. It’s a delicacy back where I’m from.” Really, it had been one of my go-to meals back when I was living alone on Earth, but even though I enjoyed it often, it was still one of my favorite dishes. Even if it did wreak havoc on my digestive system. I chose not to think about the aftermath of enjoying so much cheese.

I placed a pan on the stove to heat while I drained the excess liquid from the jar. The clump of freshly formed butter was a soft yellow, and I removed it from the jar, squeezing out some additional liquid. The butter was soft and malleable in my hands.

Reed appeared disgusted. “You’re really going to eat that?”

“You don’t eat it by itself—you use it to cook things, like you would use oil. I’ll show you.”

Maple and Reed watched with curiosity as I spread a layer of creamy butter onto one side of a slice of bread. Then, I placed that slice, butter side down, onto the hot pan, relishing the sizzling sound it made.

Adding two thick slices of cheese, I topped the sandwich with another buttered bread slice and let it cook for a few minutes. Using a spatula, I flipped it, admiring the golden-brown crust that had formed.

Plating the sandwich, I sliced it diagonally—the only acceptable way to eat a grilled cheese— and offered it to Reed and Maple. Both sprites took a half. Maple watched to gauge Reed’s reaction as he took a substantial bite, a stringy bridge of cheese forming as he pulled away a huge chunk of the sandwich.

“Hey—this is pretty good!” he said around a mouthful.

Maple took a delicate bite of her half, nodding appreciatively as she chewed.

“Right? I ate grilled cheese back home at least once a week.” I began working on my own sandwich. My mouth watered as I flipped it, the cooked side a tantalizing golden brown.

Within minutes, my own grilled cheese was plated, and Maple took over making more so I could eat. We both knew it would only be moments before the other sprites showed up. They seemed to have a knack for knowing when delicious things were happening in the kitchen.

Slicing my sandwich in half, I took a bite. The bread was delightfully crunchy, and the cheese gooey, and to my delight, it tasted almost exactly like I remembered. Soon, my sandwich was gone, too delectable to eat slowly.

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“I like human food,” Reed said, just barely finishing his own half.

As if on cue, the front door of the farmhouse opened and in stumbled Clay, Holly, and Flint.

“What are you making?” Clay asked, his eyes wide.

“Grilled cheese,” I answered, standing to help Maple prepare more sandwiches. Together, we made two more, slicing them in half. Each half was quickly claimed—the three newcomers on their first and Reed on his second helping.

Rock and Ivy joined as well, and they were eventually followed by Woods and Finn. The sandwiches were eaten as fast as Maple and I could make them, and soon, we were all sitting at the table, enjoying the gooey deliciousness together.

Flint inhaled sharply, as if remembering something. “Aren’t you allergic to milk? Cheese is made from milk!” he sounded heavily concerned. More concerned than I was, even though I could already feel my stomach bubbling.

“It was worth it,” I grinned.

The others laughed.

My stomach began to ache, and I could tell that, unfortunately, I would have the same reaction to this world’s dairy products as I did to the stuff back home. I sighed. It had been worth it, but now I would have to suffer the consequences. Risk and reward. “I’m going to need all of you to leave the farmhouse for the next couple of hours though. For your own safety.”

***

A couple days later, I stood at the edge of the pond, gazing at the crystal surface that mirrored the cloudless blue sky above me. It was warm enough outside that the frigid water was no longer an issue, which was good because my heating crystal had burned out days ago. The pond water itself was clear and inviting and teemed with tiny fish that darted beneath the still surface. I had spent the bulk of the morning weeding and tending to my orchard, so I had to scrub off the accumulated sweat and grime from my daily chores.

But something felt decidedly off about the serene pond. Something tickled the back of my mind. There’s a magical aura here.

I tapped into my sixth sense ability, noting that there was, indeed, a magical aura at the pond with me. It felt familiar, but not like any of the sprites I normally spent my days with. It had to be one of the southern sprites, but which one? I knew Skye’s signature well, as she was always by Woods’ side, and Alder’s was also distinct, as he was the leader of his little band. Coal, on the other hand, rarely visited the farm. That left the smallest female sprite of their group, the one that everyone thought was a little odd. I raised my eyebrows, trying and failing to recall her name. There were so many sprites on my farm now, how was I supposed to keep track of them all?

I scanned the tall reeds surrounding the pond, grateful I hadn’t stripped down before checking the area. I crossed my arms in front of me and cleared my throat, trying to convey that I knew someone was there. I half-expected the sprite to flee, to vanish into the forest, but the magical aura remained stubbornly in place. I realized she probably didn’t know I had an ability that allowed me to sense magic. Most humans didn’t. I also realized the sprite was most likely hiding out in the open, probably in her animal form, though I didn’t know what it was.

There were fish in the pond, of course, but I recognized them, and they all seemed uniform in species, whereas a sprite animal form would most likely stand out. The tiny caterpillars crawling on the plants around the pond were another possibility, but I wasn’t about to scrutinize every single one. A butterfly flitted by, and I gave it a skeptical look. It seemed innocent enough, but I knew better than to trust appearances. Earlier, I had chased off some ducks, but I knew they weren’t the source of the magical aura because it was still present, as if right next to me.

The sprite was still here, hiding somewhere near or in the pond.

After a few more seconds of observation, my gaze fell on a purple frog, peacefully perched atop a lily pad, looking up at me with glassy eyes that didn’t seem to have a single thought behind them. It seemed like a normal frog. It even croaked, as if trying to prove to me how much of a frog it was, but I knew better. I focused on the amphibian until descriptive words hovered above it.

Fern

Sprite

I leapt into the water, not bothering to take off my clothes, as I could put them in my bag and take them out clean and dry in an instant. The frog jumped from the lily pad, but I was prepared.

“Gotcha!” I said triumphantly, holding the frog between my hands. I was up to my waist in the pond now, the water seeping into my clothing and soaking through my work boots to my socks, but my attention was solely on the frog trapped in my tight grasp.

“I knew it,” I said, bringing the frog close to my face. It gave me a terrified, wide-eyed look before there was a bright flash, and the frog was replaced by the small female sprite.

“What brings you to my pond, Fern?” I set the startled sprite on the bank, my work boots sinking deeper into the soft mud. I gave her an expectant look.

A blush spread across her face, and she looked down at her feet. “Sorry,” she said, weaving her fingers together in front of her shyly.

“Fern. This is where I bathe. What if I hadn’t noticed you, and you ended up seeing me naked? You’d never be able to look at me the same again.”

Her blush deepened. “I just wanted to know if human anatomy was anything like sprite anatomy.” Her voice wavered. “All for scientific reasons, of course.”

I had to admit, I found her innocent curiosity endearing. She reminded me a little of Flint in that way. But I also couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy at the thought of her spying on me. I knew she was a scholarly sprite, but I wasn’t about to be the object of her scholarly observations.

“But you’re a girl. I’m a boy—a man.” I cleared my throat. “It would have been indecent, Fern.”

She met my gaze with her own light purple eyes, smiling awkwardly as she held up her hands in a placating gesture. “I promise I wasn’t trying to be intrusive. I was only observing to sketch later, that’s all.”

Now it was my turn to blush. “Fern,” I said incredulously. “You can’t just go around drawing… naked people.” I said that last part in a whisper.

She frowned. “Why not? Animals are naked, and I draw them all the time.”

“Because it’s indecent,” I said again. “And I’m not an animal, I’m a person. I have to insist. No more spying on me.”

Fern sighed. “All right, then. No more spying.”

I placed my hands on my hips and give her a stern look. “You better be telling the truth. I have a magical sense that will tell me if you try something like this again.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

I nodded. “I can sense everyone on my farm, actually.”

“That’s fascinating,” she said. “Perhaps… one of these days you can tell me about this magical ability.”

“Sure,” I said. “Another time, maybe. Right now… I’d really like to get on with my bath.”

Fern’s cheeks reddened. “Oh, yes. Of course. I’ll just be on my way then.” She scampered off, disappearing through the reeds, but not before stealing a couple glances over her shoulder at me.

I let out a long breath when I sensed her aura disappear. She’s an odd one… but seems harmless enough. I didn’t doubt that she was only observing for ‘scientific reasons’ like she’d said, but I wasn’t about to get naked for some oddball scholarly pursuit. The pond was cold, and the sketch might not be true to my real proportions. Plus, what if the other sprites found her drawings? I’d never be able to look any of them in the eye ever again.

I checked around my pond one last time, satisfied when I didn’t detect any other signatures nearby, and stripped down, throwing my wet clothes and boots onto the bank and sinking into the refreshingly cool water.

As I dipped below the surface, I pulled up all my active quests. The words shimmered before me, and I could mentally toggle through them.

Active Quests:

Restore the Farm

Collect Reagents for Melvin’s Spell.

Obtain the Forest Stone.

Help Tyrannox Escape the Cave.

I dismissed the prompt, feeling overwhelmed. Not only did I have a lot of ongoing quests, but the sheer effort and amount of time I would have to devote to each one was enough to make my head spin.

After a good scrubbing with the last bar of soap from my bag, I rinsed and got out, dressing quickly in case Fern decided to come back with her sketchbook. The sun was starting to dip in the sky, signaling the approaching evening. I still had a few chores to complete, but I was grateful that I could lose myself in work for the next couple hours.