The following morning, I awoke to a breathtaking sight—the forest was in the midst of a wondrous transformation. Delicate buds had formed on the trees, their pastel green hues promising imminent, full-blown blossoms in the coming days. On the forest floor, amongst the tree trunks, a carpet of small, delicate-stemmed flowers unfurled. These exquisite blooms, reminiscent of daffodils from my home world, were a soft, buttery yellow, their petals gracefully forming bell-shaped cups that stretched to the sunlight above. Those trees that we’d planted at the end of fall were now tender saplings, sprouting from the ash-rich soil, their branches stretching out in anticipation of spring rains.

I dedicated that morning to the task of meticulously mapping out the plot that would become the orchard, a seemingly straightforward endeavor that had turned into a time-consuming venture.

Flint stood beside me. He was one of the younger sprites, and certainly the most scholarly of the bunch. When he wasn’t out wandering the farm, he was usually in the hayloft, buried deep in the pages of a book. I hadn’t noticed before, but his steel-colored eyes were now tinged with a subtle shade of red, visible even through the lenses of his thick glasses.

Leaning on my shovel, I cocked an eyebrow at the sprite. “Are you feeling all right, Flint?”

He nodded, his sniffles punctuating the serene atmosphere. “This happens every spring.” His voice was coated in weariness. “I think it has something to do with the new plant growth.”

Understanding dawned on me. “Ah. Allergies,” I remarked knowingly.

Flint blinked, his expression one of bewilderment. “Allergies? What’s that?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle as I continued my work. Though the task of turning the soil was straightforward, its monotony had grown evident, especially since I’d realized that I would need to expand the plot significantly beyond my initial expectations.

“I’m not entirely sure about the specifics,” I explained, “but allergies are when your body thinks all this new springtime growth is a bad thing, so it tries to protect itself. That’s why you get a runny nose and itchy eyes. It can make you miserable.”

Flint let out a sigh and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes until they were glassy and a tinge more red. “You can say that again.”

“Try not to rub your eyes too much—it tends to make things worse.” I winced at the sprite’s predicament.

Flint groaned, blinking furiously as he replaced his glasses.

“They have medicine back on my home world for allergies, so maybe they have it here, too.” I motioned in the direction of Sagewood. “I’ll check next time I go to the general store.”

Flint nodded, then turned his attention to my farmhouse. “So, if this plot is going to be an orchard, what are you going to do on the other side of the farmhouse?”

I paused, thinking. “Probably nothing this season. I don’t want to take on too many projects and risk not finishing any of them.”

“Could I start a project over there?” Flint asked, perking up.

I shrugged. “Sure.”

Before I could gather any more details, Flint left, waving to me as he went. I chuckled. Knowing Flint, this new project was probably going to be something practical.

I turned back to the rugged stretch that would soon be an orchard. Right now, it was scattered with boulders and weeds, but that wouldn’t take long to clear. There were also some wayward trees, but they would be easy enough to chop down. I crouched in the dirt and picked up a small sample of the soil. To me, it looked to be of low quality, but I couldn’t be sure without the second opinion of one of the sprites.

My gaze shifted toward the well, a modest brick structure standing on the other side of my farmhouse. It had dutifully supplied me with water during my time on this farm, but as I contemplated the ambitious project ahead, I knew it was time to seek a more efficient solution. That was precisely why I had summoned the River Spirit to visit me this morning.

As if responding to my thoughts, a small trickle of water snaked its way through the rugged terrain, coming to a rest in the form of a puddle before me. The water swelled, and from its depths, a woman arose, her entire figure composed of water. Glints of minnows could be seen within her aqueous form, the tiny fish darting gracefully as they captured the sunlight.

“Matt Miller,” she said in a fluid, melodic tone.

I nodded at her in greeting. “Thanks for coming. I’m hoping you can assist me with a project.” I gestured toward the well. “Would it be possible for you to help me irrigate this plot of land?”

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Her gaze shifted between the well and the expanse of earth beneath us. “Why this plot in particular? And why not your already sown fields?”

“The fields are already planted, and I don’t want to disturb what’s growing. Plus, they’ll have different crops in them next season that’ll have different water needs.” The River Spirit looked impressed that I’d already thought through this. It would be nice to irrigate everything at once, but the orchard would serve as an experiment to see if it could successfully be done. “I figure if I install an irrigation system before I plant the orchard, I can avoid a lifetime of lugging water over here. And since the plants will stay consistent, I don’t have to worry about adjusting water levels.” I paused, hoping the River Spirit wouldn’t press for any other reasons. My true intent was for the orchard to thrive long after I was gone. Whether that meant after I left for my home world, or after I died in this one. If I could set up a system where crops were constantly balancing magic in the land, it would be one more edge the sprites would have in my absence.

The River Spirit’s watery form, though lacking distinct eyes, managed to convey a skeptical expression as she crossed her arms. “And why should I assist a humble farmer with such a trivial task?”

“Because you owe me,” I replied with a grin.

She let out a warbling chuckle, considering my words. “I owe you?”

“You might have forgotten the time you tried to drown me, but I haven’t. I think a bit of recompense is in order.”

She laughed again, her tone reminiscent of a gentle stream, before finally turning her attention back to the well. After a thoughtful moment, she nodded in agreement. “Very well, I’ll help you. But first, you must clear this land of the boulders and weeds.”

“So, it’s a deal then?”

A thoughtful expression crossed her watery features as she looked to the well again. “Not quite. I’ll require the assistance of the Cave Spirit to create underground tunnels for the irrigation system. If you can persuade him, then you have yourself a deal, Matt Miller.”

With that, her watery form descended into the puddle like a cascading waterfall streaming away to the north, back to her river.

With a determined sigh, I retrieved my pickaxe. Convincing the Cave Spirit would be the next challenge—but for now, I had to focus on making this plot of land workable by clearing it of boulders and weeds. After I had carved out distinct borders for the orchard, I would approach the Cave Spirit.

I worked late into the afternoon, my thoughts drifting like leaves on a gentle wind. The question of returning home still weighed heavily on my mind. The life of a farmer held its charms, particularly when you could call upon the aid of nature spirits, but I couldn’t help but think that I didn’t belong here. I had friends in Sagewood, as well as a community of sprites, but I knew that there was one key piece that had somehow slipped through my fingers—a piece that I honestly didn’t believe that I could live without.

My pickaxe struck a boulder with a clang. A jolt of suppressed emotions now surged to the surface.

Leia.

She had been the driving force behind my desire to stay in this magical realm. She had been the person I had dreamed of building a life with… maybe even a family. I didn’t want to wind up like Grandpa Bart. Even though I had many reasons to stay, the roadblock I now faced was the fact that I didn’t want to remain a bachelor my entire life. I’m sick and tired of being alone.

I let out a sigh and levelled the pickaxe as I prepared another strike. There was no use dwelling on a lost love. There was more than enough work here to keep me busy.

I swallowed hard and brought the pickaxe down onto the stubborn boulder. Determinedly, I shoved all thoughts of her to the far recesses of my mind and allowed myself to get lost in the labor once more. With the sun beginning its descent, early evening had arrived by the time I’d successfully cleared the field of boulders. My muscles ached, but as I surveyed the transformed plot, a sense of pride welled within me.

All that remained were the stubborn weeds and the handful of trees that needed to be felled. With a weary sigh, I stowed the pickaxe and retrieved my trusty watering can. Despite the fatigue that gnawed at my muscles, the crops still depended on my care, and chores remained indifferent to my exhaustion.

I carried the heavy watering can to and from the fields, and the sun descending lower in the sky with each trip.

As the sun dipped behind the distant mountains, I stowed the watering can in my bag and stretched, trying to alleviate the dull ache. As I did, I noticed that a sliver of moon had crept into the evening sky.

My farmhouse exuded a gentle, inviting glow, and the voices of the sprites within reached my ears. They seemed to be engaged in a game of Uno, a card game I’d introduced to them and only recently reinstated after a brief hiatus. The game tended to induce sudden bouts of violence, but for the moment, things seemed relatively peaceful.

“Want us to deal you in for the next game?” Holly called to me as soon as I entered. She held a single card in her hand, and Flint was giving her a rather fierce glare from behind his spectacles. His eyes were still tinged red from allergies.

For a moment, I questioned whether returning the card game had been the right decision, but then dismissed the thought. Fatigue weighed me down, and my current weariness took precedence. Besides, the older sprites generally did a good job of managing the younger ones. I shook my head, aware that my eyelids were growing heavy, and I wouldn’t last through even one round of the card game.

Passing by the sprites on my way to my bedroom, I collapsed onto my bed with my boots still on. I stared at the ceiling and wondered if I should introduce other games to the sprites. The Uno cards I’d made were falling apart, and most, if not all the wild cards had been marked with folded corners. There were lots of other options—Monopoly, Settlers of Catan, even something a little more involved like Dungeons & Dragons would be fun with the group, but that would mean I’d have to make game pieces and remember all the rules, which would only take time away from my farming duties. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. I imagined how awry a D&D campaign would go with battling personalities like Flint and Holly. Or Clay and Holly. Or any of the others and Holly. Holly would probably end up playing a chaotic evil barbarian or something, I thought to myself. Yeah… she’d definitely go full murderhobo in a game like D&D, and even the DM would be powerless to stop her.

The sun fully set outside, and my room became dim and soothing. In mere moments, my promise to ‘just rest my eyes’ led me into a deep, restful slumber.