The melodic grind of wagon wheels through the rocky dirt provided an ideal setting for my mind to wander. My gaze drifted from the road to the streaks of pink clouds above, gently guiding my thoughts on a meandering journey as I lost myself in the beauty of the evening sky.
My mind, as always, turned to the farm. It was early spring, the busiest time for a farmer, but so far, things were going smoothly. My thoughts drifted from the large herd of livestock I’d amassed, to the ever-growing flock of chickens, to the flourishing crops that I’d toiled over since the first chilly days of the season. They’d be ready for harvest in about a week.
Eventually, like they always did, my thoughts coalesced around the thing that brought me both the most stress, and the most joy in my life: my family, and the home we’d built together.
Thinking about my family now wasn’t a melancholy return to the nostalgic, albeit lonely, years on Earth. I hardly ever thought of my own mom and dad, and never of the people back in Phoenix. Thoughts of family now consisted of the people of this world, and the profound sense of belonging I’d cultivated over the past five years. It had all begun on the hallowed grounds of my Grandpa’s old farm, a place that had seamlessly woven itself into the fabric of my existence. A small smile tugged the corners of my mouth as I remembered how much I’d originally hated it, and how badly I’d wanted to get back to my dull life on Earth. What had I been thinking?
“Are you humming that song again?” Woods asked, shaking me from my musings. The sprite was seated next to me on the driver’s bench, glaring up at me. In the years I’d known him, he’d gone through significant life changes, including being corrupted, but he’d always remained his usual, grumpy self.
“Huh? What song?” I’d been so lost in thought, I hadn’t realized I’d been humming anything.
“The one about the roads. Please don’t sing—”
“Country roads! Take me home!” I belted out, unable to control myself. “To the place… I belong!”
Woods slumped next to me, accepting that he was going to be serenaded for the next four minutes by the John Denver classic, performed by yours truly.
Even though he didn’t show it, I knew he liked the song too. I’d heard him humming it earlier. That’s probably the reason it was stuck in my head now. He had only himself to blame. As I neared the final lines of the song, I saw a hint of a smile on his face, though he turned away to pretend to look at something else to hide it from me.
Just as I finished the outro, we pulled onto the well-worn dirt path that traced its way to my farm from the south. I reflected on the entire day spent felling trees for firewood. The uncharacteristically cool spring had depleted our reserves. Mindful of the still regrowing forest that surrounded my farm, Woods and I had ventured southward to fell the trees that were much older than the ones I’d planted a few years prior.
We were greeted by warm lights emanating from my farmhouse, where faint voices could be heard within. A ruddy cheeked face briefly appeared at the window, small hands pushing aside the lace curtains before disappearing. Seconds later, the door burst open, revealing a toddler wearing only a diaper and a mess of wispy brown hair atop her head.
“Lucy!” I called, sliding off the driver’s bench to meet her before she could make it to the porch stairs. I scooped her up and tickled her tummy. Her giggles filled the air, and I brought her close to me as I stepped through the door. The warmth and light of my farmhouse enveloped me, as well as the tantalizing smell of something delicious.
“Hey hon, I’m home.” I heard Leia’s muffled voice from one of the back rooms greeting me in return, the words lost between the walls.
Reed, Holly, and Flint were all sprawled in the front room, all looking exhausted. I chuckled and knew exactly why. The sprites not only helped me with various tasks on my farm—like taking care of the animals and helping me tend to my crops—but on days when I was away, they helped Leia with our daughter, Lucy.
“She has so much energy,” Reed complained from the couch, his eyes halfway closed as if he could drift off to sleep at any moment.
Holly nodded in agreement, mirroring Reed’s exhaustion as she sat against the couch on the floor. Flint lay face down on the rug in front of the couch, unmoving.
“Is he all right?” I asked after a few seconds.
Holly and Reed nodded, and Flint gave me a weak thumbs up from the floor.
“Lucy requested pony rides all afternoon,” Holly explained, “and Leia wouldn’t let us use one of the actual ponies, so Flint had to step in with his animal form.”
“It was all day,” Flint moaned, his words slightly muffled by the rug as his face was still pressed into it. “Over and over, all she said was ‘Again! Again!’. Who taught her that word anyway?”
I heard Woods chuckle from behind me, and Lucy wriggled out of my arms, running to the sprite as soon as her feet touched the floor. Lucy loved Woods. It used to really bother me, but I realized quickly it was the one time that Woods got to play the fun uncle role instead of the stern father. That role had now passed to me, and I’d realized why Woods was always so bossy. Being a dad was hard work. Harder than being a farmer, that’s for sure.
I glared at Woods as I saw him hand Lucy a cookie. “I thought you said you didn’t have any more cookies.” I’d asked him before we returned home if all the cookies Maple had baked were gone, and he’d told me they were. Liar.
Woods shrugged. “I didn’t have any left for you. Only Lucy.”
I rolled my eyes, but my mood brightened as Leia walked into the kitchen and gave me a tired smile.
“Long day?” I asked, to which she simply nodded. “I’ll put the kids to bed tonight,” I added.
Leia stepped closer to me to give me a hug. I didn’t let her. Instead, I grabbed her and dipped her in a swooping kiss, making her laugh and all the sprites groan with mock disgust. Lucy giggled again, running over to us and covering both Leia and I in chocolatey fingerprints. Leia, still laughing, melted into my embrace as I pulled her upright and close to me. I buried my face in her long dark curls, curls that she’d passed onto our daughter.
After a few seconds of holding my wife close, I looked past her into the hallway. “Where’s Link?”
“He’s still mad at you for this morning.”
“Ah.” I released Leia, kissing her forehead before walking toward the back bedroom of the farmhouse. “I’ll go talk to him.”
Link, my son, was four years old. And yes, he was named after that Link.
I’d brought nostalgic memories, treasured pieces of my old world with me, as anyone would, and naming my son after one of the greatest heroes—the Hero of Time—had filled me with a quiet, personal joy. Leia had liked the name, and the sprites had never said anything otherwise.
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No one knew the truth about the name’s origins. No one ever would—except, perhaps, my son Link himself. One day, when he was older, I might tell him.
Link displayed an uncanny manifestation of the stubborn traits typical of the Rockborn clan. Despite Leia not sharing any blood ties with the dwarves in her family, Link seemed to effortlessly adopt these resilient characteristics—stubbornness being his most active trait. I knocked on his door, opening it after a few seconds of silence.
“Hey kiddo.”
Link glared up at me from his bed.
“Did you have a good day today?”
He shook his head, keeping silent.
I sighed. “I’m sorry I wouldn’t let you come chop firewood with me. It’s dangerous off the farm, and I just wanted you to be safe.”
Link gave me a flat look. “Nothing out there is stronger than you, dad. I could’ve come with you, and you would’ve kept me safe.”
I paused. While it was flattering that my son thought I was the strongest thing out there, I knew that simply wasn’t true. I wasn’t even the strongest thing in this house when the sprites were inside. I didn’t tell Link that though. Instead, I walked over to his bed and sat on the small mattress next to him. He propped his head on his hands, his glare fixed on the floorboards in front of him.
“I need someone here to protect mom while I’m away. Lucy too. There needs to be a big strong man on the farm at all times.” I tried to inflate his tender four-year old ego.
Link rolled his eyes, something I’d never seen him do. He must’ve learned that from his mom. Or Holly. “Mom and Lucy have the sprites. They’ll be fine for one day, dad!”
I chuckled. He wasn’t wrong. For being four, he could always easily outsmart my logic. He definitely got that from his mom.
“What do you say we go fishing tomorrow, just you and me?”
Link perked up at this. “By the river?”
“Sure. We could visit Uncle Rowan and Auntie Renna too, if that’s something you want.”
Link nodded, his usual animation returning to his face. I ruffled his dark brown curls, some of which were tucked behind his slightly pointed ears. Neither of my kids looked particularly like me, their mother’s elvish genes dominating their features. I didn’t mind though. Link had the same freckles dotting the bridge of his nose as Leia did, and Lucy had the same iridescent blue-violet eyes that I found so enchanting. I was glad my kids took after her more than me. They were better off for it.
“Can I come?” I heard the familiar voice of Clay coming from under the bed. Leaning over, I checked underneath the bed frame to find not one, but three sprites hiding. Clay, Rock, and Ivy were all under the bed, staring up at me with wide eyes.
“Why are you guys under here?”
“We’re hiding from Lucy,” Ivy said.
I squinted, seeing a fourth creature hiding under the bed with the sprites. “I thought I said no chickens in the house.”
The chicken, as if knowing it had been mentioned, began clucking. Link laughed, and the sprites crawled out from under the bed. Clay led the chicken out as well, looking sheepish as he did so.
“This chicken is different,” Clay answered. “We’ve been training it to be a house chicken.”
Link nodded.
I looked between them, trying to appear stern. “No chickens in the house,” I said. “Take it to the coop.”
Clay’s shoulders slumped and he walked to the door, the chicken following closely behind him. I was surprised, it did seem like the bird had been trained to do so.
Clay turned back to us before he reached the door, as if remembering something. “Can I still come fishing with you guys?”
“It’s up to Link,” I replied. “I don’t mind if you come. But you can’t visit the carpenters with us.”
The townsfolk still didn’t know about the sprites and their involvement with my family. I knew some of them had their suspicions, especially after Link had told Rowan and Renna about his special friends on the farm that could change into animals. Leia and I had tried to play it off like they were imaginary friends, but it was difficult to tell if they bought the lie.
Link nodded, and Clay left, leading the chicken down the hall. The other sprites, Ivy and Rock, followed, waving to Link and me as they left.
“Should we go see what mom made for dinner?” I asked, turning back to my son.
He nodded, holding his hands up for me to pick him up. I did, easily hoisting the four-year old up and over my shoulders, eliciting a laugh from him as I carried him into the kitchen like a sack of potatoes.
***
“You and Leia need to have more kids,” Woods said, breaking the silence of the porch. Everyone, including Lucy, Link, and Leia, as well as all the sprites, were asleep inside. Only Woods and I stayed up this late, now.
“Believe me, I try to convince her every single night.”
Woods snorted as he turned his attention back to the velvety night sky dotted with millions of little lights. Lately, this had been our nightly routine—sitting out on the porch until it got too cold to tolerate, then retiring inside. It was nice. I’d built a couple of rocking chairs for this exact reason. Sitting on the porch, doing absolutely nothing is majorly underrated.
My farmhouse had undergone drastic changes in the last five years. At first, I’d added an extra room just for the sprites, but shortly after we were married, Leia and I started having kids. We’d added an extra bedroom for Link, and two years ago, another room for Lucy. Renna and Rowan had eagerly helped with the renovations, and of course Renna asked every time she saw me when we’d be adding another bedroom to the farmhouse.
“Is Finn going to visit anytime soon?” I asked after a moment. Woods’ brother Finn had left the farm a few years ago, joining the band of southern sprites. He’d occasionally come to visit, but it had been a while since his last appearance. He hadn’t met Lucy yet, who was almost two.
“I’m not sure, I think he’s pretty happy living with the southern sprites. Hopefully, they’ll visit one of these days. I know Flint misses Fern.”
I nodded, focusing on the expanse of pin-prick stars above us. It was nearing the temperature where I usually turned in, my breath frosty in the night air.
Another comfortable silence ensued, but again, it was broken by Woods. “Do you think the farm will reach level ten this year?”
I thought for a moment. I’d leveled the farm up to level nine shortly after Lucy was born, where it had frustratingly stayed, despite my best efforts. Advancing to and through the higher levels had taken years, though not for lack of trying. Each new level came with increasingly complex requirements—specific conditions that had to be met before I could progress—paired with some unseen threshold of effort that seemed to stretch further with each level. The higher I climbed, the longer it took, as if the farm itself demanded more from me with every level gained.
Getting through level six had required me to get married. Straightforward, though not exactly simple—especially when the love of my life had up and left Sagewood. Fortunately, when she finally returned, I wasted no time proposing. Actually, I think I’d waited about four minutes before stupidly confessing my love for her. Maybe five minutes, my memories from that time are still a bit foggy.
The threshold between level seven and eight had been two-fold. The first part of the levelling condition had required a greater variety of life on the farm—at least three types of animals and four types of crops growing at once. I’d taken full advantage of the greenhouse, diversified my fields, and, for reasons I still didn’t fully understand, decided to bring in goats. Every day since, I’d questioned that decision. Sheep would have been easier. Less chaos. But no, I’d committed. And now I lived with the consequences.
Even after I’d met this requirement, I couldn’t move the farm to level eight until the second, arguably more challenging levelling requirement was met. It had been the biggest hurdle since level six: win a pie-eating contest at the Sagewood Summer Fair. That one in particular had taken considerable effort—especially because I was competing against the likes of the blacksmith Titus and my brother-in-law, Axel. I still couldn’t look at pie without feeling nauseous. Any kind of pie.
Going from level eight to level nine had been almost laughably easy in comparison—have a child. By the time the farm was ready, that condition had already been met twice over. Link and Lucy were already here, and the sprites had loved teasing Leia and me about it.
But, strangely, getting to level ten seemed to have no leveling conditions at all—at least none that I could discern. So, there really was no telling when I would eventually get the farm to max level.
“I’m not sure,” I answered Woods. “Hopefully. I still have the Forest Stone. When the time is right, I’ll finally be able to place it.”
Woods nodded, though I knew he wasn’t entirely satisfied with my answer.
“Are you worried?” I asked. “It seems like ever since Corruption disappeared, things have been good.”
Woods drew his mouth into a line as he met my eyes. “I’m just concerned about the balance of magic.”
“I know.” I couldn’t help but smile. Woods hadn’t changed a bit since I first met him. “I’ll get there, and we’ll bring back your goddess. I promise.”
Woods nodded again, turning his attention back to the night sky.
I shivered as the temperature seemed to drop even further. “I’m going to head inside. See you tomorrow, Woods.”
He grunted in reply, not turning his gaze from the stars above.
Keeping my footsteps as quiet as possible, I walked through the silent farmhouse. Faint snores could be heard from some of the rooms, and I did my usual rounds of checking on Link and Lucy. They were both asleep in their beds, snuggled in their blankets and pillows. Finally, I retired to my bedroom. Leia was already sleeping, exhausted after wrangling the kids all day, even with the help of the sprites. She stirred when I crawled into bed next to her but didn’t wake.
I fell asleep shortly after knowing I was the luckiest farmer alive.
