Soon, not even a minute later, my brothers shuffled quietly into their shared room, their voices low and playful as they settled down. Even though the night was still young, a gentle calm had settled over the house. There was no need for long evenings when the day had wrung every bit of energy from our bodies.
Everyone seemed content, happy, even, to sleep early.
There were no lingering aches, no shortness of breath, no heavy coughing fits keeping me awake. Just the quiet hum of night, the soft breathing of my family behind thin wooden walls.
I understood then why we always slept early, it wasn't just a habit, it was a necessity.
We didn't have the luxury to stay up late, to linger by candlelight or waste precious firewood for idle hours.
Every task,chores, foraging, cooking, cleaning, had to be completed while the sun was still in the sky. Once darkness settled in and the cold crept through the dirt floor of our home, there was little left to do but retreat under worn blankets and let sleep take us.
The night was cold, and was even colder for someone like me, burdened with a weak constitution. The thin quilt barely held the chill at bay, and every shift in the wind seemed to seep through the walls to settle deep in my bones. As I lay curled beneath the covers, I couldn't help but think of the future.
I had half a mind to begin planning for a better house, one with thicker walls and proper insulation, with a floor too.
So I closed my eyes, and tried to drift to sleep.
But when I opened my eyes, what greeted me wasn't the familiar sight of the rundown ceiling of our old house, the one with the water stains that resembled a very depressed rabbit. No, instead, I found myself staring straight into the modern glow of a minimalist chandelier, swinging gently above me like it belonged in some rich man's magazine spread.
I blinked once.
Then twice.
"Green!" I called out, still sprawled unceremoniously on the plush couch.
"Yes, Master?" Green chirped, appearing from the archway like a magical butler with perfect timing. Her little feet didn't touch the floor as she hovered forward, eyes sparkling with a suspicious amount of energy for someone who didn't need to sleep.
"You called?"
"Yeah." I stretched my arms and sat up, my joints making a series of delicate cracking sounds like an old tree swaying in the wind. "What's the update on the crops?"
Green did a little twirl midair, clearly pleased with herself. Her translucent wings caught the afternoon light, scattering tiny rainbow reflections across my face. She hovered closer, the faint scent of fresh soil and morning dew following her like an invisible cloak.
"They're growing splendidly, Master!" she announced, her voice tinkling like wind chimes in a gentle breeze. She performed an elaborate bow that seemed entirely unnecessary given her already diminutive size.
"The apples are plump, the corns are smug, and the well have started a small underground society. I'm thinking of naming their leader Spuddy." I stared at her, my brows furrowing together as I tried to process her words.
The first part made sense—we had indeed planted apple trees and corn—but the last bit about the well threw me completely."...You're joking about the well part, right?"
I asked, crossing my arms and trying to look stern despite the smile threatening to break through. Green gave me a sly grin, floating backward until she was eye-level with me.
Her tiny feet kicked idly in the air as if she were lounging in an invisible hammock. "Only about the name," she replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief. She fluttered closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Between you and me, he prefers to be called 'His Royal Tuber-ness.' Very particular about titles, that one."
"Never mind that," I said, waving my hands dismissively at Green's playful commentary, psh, tuber-ness.
While her whimsical reports amuse me, I found myself growing restless with secondhand accounts.
My bare feet touched the smooth, polished floor as I made my way toward the entrance. The house felt almost too comfortable, too removed from the practical concerns of farming and survival that had consumed my every waking moment.
Green followed me outside without missing a beat, her tiny form gliding effortlessly through the doorway. She maintained her characteristic hover just beside my shoulder, her translucent feet never quite touching the ground as we moved.
The afternoon sun caught her wings, sending those familiar rainbow reflections dancing across my skin, and I caught that faint scent of fresh soil and morning dew that always seemed to follow her like an invisible reminder of the earth we were tending.
As we stepped into the open air, I couldn't help but think how different this felt from those nights when cold would creep through every crack and crevice. I suppressed a sigh.
The apple sapling that I had watched Green plant just three hours ago, a fragile little thing no taller than my knee, had somehow transformed into a towering tree that stretched toward the sky like it had been growing for decades. Its trunk was thick and sturdy, its branches heavy with leaves that rustled in the breeze, and I could even make out the promising bulge of fruits scattered throughout its canopy.
I was reminded yet again that logic doesn't apply when theirs a system involved.
Just a few meters away from this miraculous tree lay the two fields. The first field was already planted with corn, neat rows of green stalks swaying gently in organized lines that stretched across the fertile soil. Even from this distance, I could see that the corn was thriving, each plant robust and healthy in a way that defied every farming experience I'd ever had.
The second field remained empty, its dark earth turned and ready, waiting patiently for whatever crop we would choose to bless it with next. The soil looked rich and inviting.
"Three hours has already passed, Master," Green chimed in beside me, her voice carrying that same cheerful matter-of-factness she always used when discussing the impossible. "The crops are now fully matured."