My heart pounded wildly, each beat echoing in my ears like a war drum. I couldn’t afford to stay tangled in these vines, not with everything else unraveling around me. Clutching the root with one hand, I fumbled in my pocket with the other, fingers shaking as I retrieved my sword. The vine wrapped around my ankle felt like iron, its grip tightening as if it sensed my intent. I started hacking through it and the blade bit into the thick tendril, but not nearly deep enough.

  The vine pulsed, writhing in response to my efforts. Every cut was met with resistance, but I attacked harder, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Sweat trickled down my face, mingling with the rain. Come on, I thought, just a little more.

  At last, the vine snapped, shuddering in pain. I staggered back as it recoiled, but before it could strike again, I was already moving. I leapt to my feet, dodging the vine’s erratic swings as it tried to ensnare me once more. My legs trembled, not from the physical effort, but from the sheer panic coursing through me.

  I sprinted toward the riverbank, eyes darting over the rushing water, searching desperately for any sign of Link or Carter. The river’s surface churned violently, whitecaps crashing against the rocks as if the water were mocking me, hiding them from view. My throat tightened with fear, dry and raw as I called out their names.

  I frantically discarded my work boots and my enchanted bag, tossing them aside like they were nothing. My hands trembled uncontrollably, the weight of dread sinking deeper into my bones. I knew Link didn’t have much time—minutes maybe, but more likely seconds. The current was merciless, a force I couldn’t fight with sheer will alone.

  Just downstream, something caught my eye—a movement, barely visible through the rain and mist. I squinted, my heart lurching in my chest. Carter. He was struggling toward the riverbank, his form emerging from the water. And in his arms, soaked and limp, was Link.

  Relief hit me like a wave, momentarily overwhelming the panic. I sprinted toward them, legs burning, my breath coming in desperate, ragged bursts. The world around me blurred, my entire focus locked on the small figure Carter carried.

  “Link!” I screamed, though my voice cracked. He was coughing, sputtering water, but he was alive. He was alive. The tight grip of terror loosened, just enough for me to stumble to a halt beside them. I dropped to my knees, my hands shaking as they hovered over Link’s drenched form, unsure where to start but desperate to do something.

  Carter looked up at me, his face still pale from the ordeal. Water dripped from his hair, running in rivulets down his face, but he met my gaze with determination. “He’s okay,” he rasped, his voice rough from the exertion.

  Link coughed again, a weak, raspy sound, but to me, it was the most beautiful noise I’d ever heard. Relief flooded me as I reached out to pull him into my arms, pulling him close.

  For a moment, everything else—the nature spirits, the rogue vines, the creeping dread of what was happening to the land—faded. All that mattered right now was my son, safe in my arms, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths. He was alive.

  “Carter,” I gasped, my breath catching as I placed a hand on his shoulder. The weight of gratitude much heavier than any words I could offer. “Thank you… truly.” My voice wavered, the enormity of what he’d done settling on my shoulders like a great, unseen force.

  Carter, wiping rain and river water from his eyes, gave a modest, almost bashful smile. He looked older now, more grown up than the dwarven boy I had once pulled from the same treacherous river. His features had sharpened over the years, his once round face now leaner, his voice deeper—almost foreign to me, yet still familiar in its warmth. Of course, he still had his beard from when he was a child, though it was fuller, and certainly fit him more now.

  “I’m just repaying the favor,” he replied, his voice steady despite the danger he’d just been through. His gaze lingered on Link, trembling uncontrollably in my arms.

  I held Link closer, feeling his small frame shiver against the chill. His breath came in uneven gasps, his skin pale and clammy. The sheer terror in his eyes hadn’t left, and I wasn’t sure if the trembling was from the cold river water or the lingering shock of what had just happened. Probably both.

  An odd mix of relief and guilt washed over me. I couldn’t help but glance down at the river, its surface still swirling angrily as if resentful of its lost prey. I could’ve easily lost him today. A cold shiver that had nothing to do with the rain ran through me.

  “There’s something off about this river,” Carter said, his brow furrowing as he shook water from his hair. “It’s not just today either. It’s been unpredictable for a couple of days now. More dangerous. Rogue swells, stronger currents. I’ve never seen it like this before.”

  I nodded, only half-hearing him. My mind was already racing ahead to Reed, still trapped by those vines, struggling in the underbrush. I didn’t have time to analyze the river’s behavior now, though Carter’s words gnawed at me in the back of my mind. It seemed every part of Sagewood was becoming more dangerous, but there were bigger problems—immediate dangers I had to deal with.

  “Thank you again, Carter,” I said, my voice steadier this time. I bowed my head slightly in respect, the depth of my gratitude too vast to express fully.

  Carter waved it off, though his smile softened as he met my gaze. “No need to mention it.” He took a step back, giving a mock salute as he turned toward the bridge, his usual swagger returning now that the crisis was over. “We’re even now, farmer!” he called over his shoulder, his voice carrying through the rain as he headed back toward the other side of the river.

  I watched Carter go, my heart still hammering against my ribs. Then I turned back to the forest, my grip on Link tightening. Reed was still out there, and I wasn’t about to lose him too. Last I’d seen him, the vines had been winning—wrapping around him, dragging him into the trees, silencing him in their twisting grip. I had to act fast.

  Turning swiftly, I retrieved my bag and shoes and retraced my steps back to where Reed had last been entangled by the vines. Each step felt heavier as I approached the forest, a feeling of unease growing as I neared the trees. The rain continued to fall, its rhythm steady on the leaves above, but Reed was nowhere to be seen. The spot where he had been struggling was now deserted by both sprite and vine.

  I hesitated, my eyes scanning the tangled underbrush. I couldn’t bring myself to step closer—not with Link still trembling in my arms, his body cold from the river’s grasp. I knew I couldn’t let him stay like this, drenched and shivering in the rain, so I knelt down and gently set him on the ground, trying to keep my voice calm.

  “Let’s get you warmed up,” I said, pulling a thick blanket from my enchanted bag. The fabric was warm and dry despite the downpour. “If you want, we can put your clothes into my bag to dry them off. They’ll come out good as new.”

  Link nodded, his teeth chattering. He didn’t protest as I began peeling off his soaked jacket, shirt, and pants, each piece of clothing clinging to his skin with the weight of the water. I made sure the blanket was wrapped tightly around his small frame, not wanting him to be exposed to the cold air as I dried his clothes. I shoved them into the bag, watching as they disappeared inside, swallowed by the magic that made everything come out clean and dry. The rain felt colder by the second, and I worried that even with the thick blanket wrapped around him, he’d get sick from the chill.

  As soon as I finished, I reached into the bag and pulled out his clothes—bone dry like they’d never touched the river. I handed them to him, but Link’s small hands shook so much that he struggled to dress himself. My heart dropped at the sight of him, vulnerable and so small, the memory of how close I’d come to losing him still fresh in my mind.

  “I’ve got it,” I said softly, helping him into his clothes with swift, practiced movements. Once he was dressed, I repeated the process with the blanket, tossing it back into the bag and pulling it out dry and warm again. I wrapped it snugly around him, tucking the edges in to shield him from the rain. His hair was still damp, sticking to his forehead in wet strands, but at least now his body was warm. It wasn’t ideal, but it was something.

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  “Better?” I asked.

  Link nodded again, his shivering beginning to subside. But his eyes were still wide with fear, and I couldn’t blame him. He had nearly drowned, swept away by a river that had turned deadly without warning. And now, somewhere in the forest, Reed was still in danger. I silently berated myself for thinking fishing today was a good idea. If I’d just stuck to the farm work like I should have, none of this would have happened.

  I stood, glancing warily into the trees. The vines. The magic. Whatever was at play here was far more dangerous than I’d anticipated. I needed to find Reed and quickly, but I also needed to keep Link safe. Balancing those two things weighed heavily on my mind.

  Link turned his gaze and searched the forest for any sign of Reed. “What were those things, Dad?”

  I turned back to the forest, my stomach tightening with worry. “I’m not sure, kiddo,” I replied carefully. I didn’t want to alarm Link by suggesting they might be monsters. Link had only recently started sleeping on his own in his own room, and I wasn’t eager to have him back in our bed, nestled between Leia and me.

  I stared into the shadowy depths of the forest, unsure how to help Reed. The vines, the strange magic—everything was spiraling out of control. I tightened my grip on Link, instinctively placing myself between him and the trees. A rustling sound came from the bushes to my right, and I braced myself, heart pounding.

  Something—or someone—was moving toward us.

  Suddenly, Reed burst from the underbrush, covered head to toe in mud and pine needles. He was no longer in his animal form but reverted to his usual sprite self. He looked irritated but unharmed. His usual sharp eyes were narrowed in frustration, and his hair was matted with what looked like sticky sap. His hat was missing, something the sprites always tried to avoid if they could help it.

  “Reed!” I called out, cautiously stepping toward him. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded, though his expression remained annoyed. He swiped a hand across his face, trying to peel away the needles clinging stubbornly to him. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he grumbled, clearly more annoyed than injured. “But I had to chew my way out of that thing.” He gestured behind him, where the vines still twisted and writhed in the shadows like living creatures. His voice was thick with irritation as he added, “And it wrecked my favorite fishing rod.”

  I followed his gaze to the riverbank, where his small rod lay in pieces, snapped and useless.

  He turned back to us, his brows furrowing as he focused on Link. “Why is your hair soaking wet?”

  Link, still shivering at my side, prompted me to hold him again. I scooped him up, worried at how much he was shivering. “He fell into the river—”

  “I didn’t fall in! Something grabbed me!” Link interjected, his teeth chattering.

  Reed and I exchanged concerned looks.

  “We should tell Woods, and probably the others as well,” Reed said.

  I nodded, the knots in my stomach tightening. If I didn’t already have an ulcer, I was on track to have one by summertime.

  After Reed grabbed the remnants of his fishing rod, we cautiously made out way back to the farm. Reed and I watched the tree line for any more surprises.

  Holly and Flint were the first to spot us, and they hurried to greet us, pausing as they took in our disheveled appearance, particularly Reed’s.

  “What happened to you two? It looks like you tried to wrestle a pine tree—and lost.” Holly smirked at Reed.

  He rolled his eyes, ignoring her jibe. “Where’s Woods?”

  “He left a little while ago, but he said he’ll be back later tonight or tomorrow morning.” Flint flashed an excited smile. “He mentioned something about the southern sprites. I hope they’re visiting soon!”

  Reed nodded, turning to me. “We’ll talk more when Woods gets back.” He gave me a pointed look, and I nodded, agreeing silently not to tell the other sprites what had happened until we told Woods. He’d want to know first, and he’d know how much we should tell the others.

  Reed turned to Holly and Flint. “I need you to get everyone together and out of the forest. Stay in either the barn or the farmhouse.”

  Holly began to protest but was silenced by a hard look from Reed. He continued, “I don’t want anyone in the forest until Woods gets back.”

  Holly and Flint exchanged looks before running off. Reed waved as he walked to the south, probably toward the pond to scrub off the sap and pine needles he was covered in.

  Still carrying Link, I made my way to the farmhouse and set him down once we were inside. The warmth from the hearth enveloped us, and Link’s shivering gradually subsided, although his hair remained wet.

  “How about you go find a towel and dry your hair?” I suggested to Link. “I need to talk to your mom.”

  Link nodded and disappeared down the hallway to his room. Meanwhile, I headed to our bedroom where Leia and Lucy sat on the bed. Leia was struggling to brush Lucy’s hair, a task that was as challenging as weeding an entire field, if not more so.

  Leia perked up as I entered the room. “How was fishing?”

  My heart sank, but I forced a smile. “Well... I want to start by saying that everyone is okay, and nobody was seriously injured,” I began cautiously, wincing at my own words.

  Leia’s eyes widened with concern. “What happened? Where’s Link?” she asked anxiously.

  I raised my hands reassuringly. “He’s fine, he’s just drying off in his room. He, uh, took a tumble into the river, but—”

  “He what?!” Leia interrupted, her voice rising in pitch.

  “He’s okay, I promise. Carter jumped in and saved him. They’re both fine.”

  Leia gave me a perplexed look that bordered on anger. Lucy glanced between us, clearly trying to make sense of the conversation.

  “Why didn’t you jump in to save him? And why was Carter there?” Leia’s tone was increasingly frantic.

  I sighed. Leave it to a farmer to dig himself into a hole. “Leia, something strange is happening in Sagewood,” I said, my gaze shifting to Lucy, who was still observing us with wide eyes. My shoulders slumped. I’d put off telling Leia any of the weird stuff that was happening, mostly because I didn’t want her to worry. But she’d find out one way or another. She always did. “I’m not sure exactly what’s going on,” I began, picking my words carefully, “but there’s… something out there, something dangerous. Somethings… off. I think it started with the strange tremors at the horse race a few weeks ago.”

  Leia furrowed her brow, studying my expression.

  I lifted my gaze to meet her eyes—the same eyes that had captured my heart all those years ago, and now shone through our children. A surge of determination ignited within me. There was no way I would allow anything to harm my family. “But I’m going to do everything I can to figure it out and keep you all safe,” I vowed, straightening with resolve.

  Just then, Link burst into the room, his hair haphazardly dried and sticking up in random places. He rushed to Leia, launching into an animated account of our fishing trip. Leia shot me another pointed look when Link mentioned Reed and me being dragged into the forest by some unknown vine entity. I knew Leia would press for more details later, but for now I would let Link tell the story. His childlike retelling was almost whimsical compared to the events that had transpired earlier.

  ***

  Later that night, the farmhouse was draped in a comforting silence, everyone having retired to their respective beds. Leia and I sat at the kitchen table, the only light coming from a flickering lantern in the corner. We each had a slice of toast in front of us, slathered with a generous pat of butter. This nightly snack had become our small, nightly tradition over the winter, but now was a rare moment of tranquility in the busy days of spring. Tonight however, Leia’s toast remained untouched, while my piece was already half-eaten before she even sat down. Her expression was filled with thinly masked worry.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Leia. It wasn’t a big deal. Link is safe, and that’s all that matters.” I tried to sound as reassuring as possible, though a pit of anxiety settled in my stomach.

  Leia’s eyes didn’t leave her plate. She still looked unconvinced, her mind clearly racing with unspoken fears.

  “I’m doing everything in my power to fix it, I promise,” I continued, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. Her fingers felt cold against mine. “Let me worry about the strange things going on. I’m not going to let anything happen to you or the kids.”

  Leia swallowed hard, her eyes finally meeting mine. She nodded slowly, but the tension in her shoulders didn’t ease. I glanced at her uneaten toast and tried to lighten the mood with a small smile. “Are you going to finish that?”

  She shook her head and pushed the plate toward me. “No, you have it,” she said softly, standing up from the table. As she moved toward our bedroom, she paused in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim light. “A letter came for you today. It’s over there, next to the stove.” With that, Leia disappeared into the dark hallway, leaving me alone with my thoughts and her leftover piece of toast. I stared at it for a few brief seconds. I wasn’t really hungry, but it would be a shame for it to go to waste.

  I finished her piece of toast, trying to savor the simple pleasure of the warm, buttery bread, but my mind was elsewhere. Once done, I stood and walked to the stove, where a single letter awaited me. It was addressed from none other than the Baron of Sagewood himself, summoning me to meet with him in the village. It noted that the mayor would be present at the meeting as well. I shoved the letter into my back pocket, cleaned up the dishes, and quietly made my way to the bedroom.

  Leia was already asleep when I arrived, her breathing steady and calm. I watched her for a moment, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on me. I slipped into bed beside her, careful not to disturb her rest. Despite my own fears, I knew I had to stay strong—for Leia, for Link and Lucy, and for the farm.

  Exhaustion weighed on me, but sleep refused to come. I lay in bed for what felt like an hour, eyes shut, body still, but every time I drifted close to rest, the image of Link in the river came to mind—his small form caught in the current, the panic in his eyes. I could’ve lost him today.

  Eventually, I gave up. With a quiet sigh, I pushed back the covers and stepped outside onto the porch. The night air was cool, the farm unusually still. I lowered myself into the rocking chair, letting it creak beneath me, my gaze drifting toward the tree line. Woods still hadn’t returned. I told myself that was why I was out here—to wait for him. But the truth was, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to sleep at all.