“What do you mean ‘he left’?” asks Fresh, staring up at the familiar fairy, who looks out of the fairy-house hanging in the branches above the grave that she had dug.

The fairy from the tailor’s shop, Tarja, looks down at her from out of a small, open window. “He left,” she says again. “Flew right off the mountain.”

“Oh no…” says Fresh, looking distraught at her friends. Jubilee stands there with crossed arms, leaned back against a tree and Basil simply looks away. “Is he coming back?”

Tarja shakes her head. “You tell me!” snaps the fairy down at her with surprising sharpness to her voice. Fresh is taken aback by the mixture of her tone and the grim expression on her face. She hasn’t seen any of the fairies ever make a face like that before. “The last time he looked like that was after Irina,” explains Tarja, looking out and away over the side of the mountain, her expression calming down as she does so.

Fresh rubs her arm, hoping her friends will come up with an answer. But none of them have anything to say. The treetops are lined with fairy-houses, all tethered up high against the inner crowns of the trees, where they are not only hidden, but also out of reach. A few faces watch them warily out of the tiny windows. But only Tarja and the familiar green-haired leader of the one fairy-party are interested in talking to them.

“Hey,” says the green-haired fairy. “You got any more of those rings?”

Fresh nods. “We have a whole bunch. Everyone who wants one can come get one tomorrow.” Seeing that they’re unwelcome here right now, she turns around and scoots her friends away. “If Veli comes back, please tell him that we want him to come with us.”

“Then you should have told him that before!” shouts Tarja after her as they leave. Fresh frowns, but doesn’t say anything.

The four of them walk back through the forest.

“Well, we tried,” says Jubilee, dusting their hands.

Basil looks around. “Do you get the feeling that they were mad at us?”

Jubilee shakes their head. “Seems a little ungrateful, considering we were getting yelled at from houses that we donated.”

“Do you guys think Veli is going to be okay?” asks Fresh. “He’s all by himself. What if a hungry bird sees him, or a snake?” She rubs her arm again, feeling terrified for his sake.

Jubilee shakes their head. “He’s probably going to die, if he isn’t dead already.”

“Jubilee!” shouts Fresh, ready to cry.

Jubilee shrugs indifferently, walking on further as Fresh stands there, horrified. “It’s a big world and he’s a little guy. I don’t know what to tell you.”

Fresh runs after them, looking at Shamrock and at Basil, hoping that their expressions would show that Jubilee was just being mean. But when she sees Shamrock’s gaze locked dead ahead and Basil looking down and away to the side, she knows that they’re thinking the same thing. The priestess turns her face towards her, her hand rubbing Fresh’s back. “I’m sure he’ll be okay,” she consoles. But Fresh knows that she doesn’t mean it.

The four of them make their way back, by the time they exit the forest, Fresh has finished crying.

“Let’s go to bed,” suggests Basil, as they step inside of their front door. Jubilee and Shamrock nod in agreement. Fresh shakes her head, waving them off as she heads to the basement.

“I want to finish packing some more stuff,” she explains, closing the door behind herself as she heads downstairs by herself. The basement has been, despite how they found it, a place of great comfort for her during their stay here. Whenever her body ached, she could go to the warm waters of the bath. Whenever her spirit ached or was overwhelmed with the energetic currents of her life, she could retreat down here to the sanctuary of the underground. She supposes, that in this life, much like her old one, that she is still a reclusive person.

There’s nothing wrong with that, of course. But as she heads over to her workbench, she remembers the thoughts that she had had upon arriving in this world. Thoughts of some grand adventure, of becoming some cherished person of value. In a sense, both of those things have come true. In a sense, the fountain had fulfilled its obligations to her. She had made money, she had had chances to be happy and these days, she feels that she is exactly that, more often than not.

She rubs her arm once more, looking around the basement. Fresh winces, pulling her hand back from her body. She had rubbed too high. The area on her shoulder is still deeply scarred from her initial struggles in this world. It stings with a sharp tinge as her fingers graze over the area.

Her wandering eyes find their way to the stack of Basil’s scar-healing creams, that the priestess had been carefully coating in wax so that the metal tins could be stored in her inventory when they left. As her fingers run over her shoulder again, triggering a new pain, she realizes the obvious. She could use some of the ointment, maybe it will help. She’s sure Basil would be more than happy to let her have a can of it.

She winces, feeling the painful bump on her shoulder again as her fingers run over it a third time. She shakes her head. No, she doesn’t want to get rid of the scars.

The basement door opens and she listens as a pair of heavy boots come downstairs. “Hi, Shamrock,” says Fresh, lowering her hand and looking at the approaching giant.

“Hi,” is all that he says as he walks up to her and grabs her, hoisting her over his shoulder.

Fresh yelps in surprise as she finds herself being carried back to the staircase. “What’s up?” she asks, worried that something has happened. Are they running away? Did someone come and recognize them who shouldn’t have? Is tonight the night that they had to leave?!

“Bed time,” he says, his gruff voice breaking the terror forming in her mind.

“Huh?” Fresh blinks.

“Bed time,” repeats the man.

“…Huh?”

He doesn’t repeat himself a third time, bending down to fit through the door with her on his shoulder, before heading upstairs.

“Thanks, Shamrock,” smiles Basil at him as they walk past. Fresh gasps, her own weapon had been used against her. Shamrock flashes the priestess a thumbs-up before he turns around. Fresh feels Basil unstringing her boots and taking them off. A moment later, Shamrock tosses her down off of his shoulder and onto her bed.

“Good night,” is all that he says, before walking away to his own bed and simply falling down into it. The frame rattles as he lands. Fresh blinks at the sight, feeling confusion, but also pride in her craftsmanship of his bed. She’s still not sure what just happened though. Fresh looks over at Basil, who sets down her boots and turns down the light of her lantern.

“Good night everyone,” says Basil, looking around the room.

A vague grumbling can be heard from Jubilee’s room as the light goes out.

Fresh stares around the darkness, still not sure what had just happened. She had been kidnapped and brought to her bed early in some insidious scheme designed to…

- Prevent her from being alone in the basement?

She worms her way out of her robe, neglecting her pajamas for the night, crawling instead down under her blanket, burrowing down as deep as she can go to hide herself from the world. Basil had taken off her boots. Was she conspiring with the foot-demons? Fresh thinks this is unlikely. But she can’t help but consider the possibility.

Having friends is a really complicated business.

“Good night, Basil,” she says, digging her way back up and out. “Goodnight, Shamrock.” She turns her head to the wall next to her, placing her hand by her mouth to project her voice. “Goodnight, Jubilee.”

She sighs, getting comfortable as she wishes her final goodnight to the fairy, Veli, who she hopes receives it, wherever he might be.