Licking the remaining blood off my hands triumphantly, I look to the sky, only to panic as I see the dawn's first rays of sunshine appearing on the horizon. Being too far away from the basket and blankets, I decide to lie down under the wolf. It is uncomfortable, to say the least. Having the wolf's weight push me into the ground and his stench rub off on me sucks, but it beats getting turned to ash.

  Unfortunately, I won’t be able to save the rats. I’m sure there will be enough opportunities for me in the future to make more though. Perhaps losing them here is a blessing in disguise, seeing as I would hardly be able to explain them to a farmer. ‘Hi, I’m just a poor little girl in need of help. What’s in the bag you ask? Only some rats. Why rats, you ask? Well, I just like them. Of course, you can look at them, Sir,’ As they jump him, trying to eat him. Yeah, that would not have worked out too well…

  Unable to sleep, I start imagining different scenarios that could await me on the farm and how to deal with them.

  Well let’s start optimistically. I go there and do my little, ‘lost girl’ act, maybe cry a little, and they take me in. What then? Do I eat them too? Do I stick around? What if they don’t speak English either? I guess I’m fluent in German and learned a bit of Latin in school, so maybe that helps. But I doubt that those two years of Latin will do anything for me. I mean, I passed with a C, partially because my Latin teacher didn’t want me to fail my grade, but I guess I could still infer the meaning of some written sentences. But yeah, speaking it is gonna be a hard no. Those two guards didn’t seem to speak English, so I doubt a farmer would either, but I guess it’s worth a shot. Oh, and I still have those coin pouches, so that’ll help convince them. Money is a universal language after all. I’m not sure what its worth is though, so I guess I should start low and work myself up. What do I do afterward though? I get myself in the house and maybe or maybe not communicate with them? I should probably ask where I am, where a big city is, and if they know anything about me or my circumstances. And in case they don’t understand me, I should probably try to ask for a big city by drawing in the snow or something. If no one speaks any of my languages, I hope I can find a school and pay them money to teach me their language. Maybe we can do an exchange thing, where I teach them English and German and they teach me whatever it is they’re speaking. I also know how to write Hiragana and Katakana, so that might be a cool parlor trick for writing things down and teaching. I might even be able to make this my secret language or something. Ok, and now, the worst-case scenario. I go there and a family of angry farmers chases me with torches and pitchforks. In which case, I just use my new overpowered abilities to deal with them and find a way to a city myself. Either way sounds like a good plan to me! Now I just have to wait till the sun goes down.

  A few hours into the day, I fall asleep, dreaming of playing with my dogs in the yard.

  I awake to crows squalling over the wolf carcass on my back. Carefully, I slowly push my arm outside the wolf to test for sunlight, but I get no reaction.

  “All right it must be safe now,” I say, as I try to push off the wolf with a mighty shove, but I can't. It's too heavy. “Wait, why is he so heavy? I should be able to push him off easily. Ok, one, two, and THREEEEE,” I say, mustering all my strength to push it off of me, but only pushing it a little bit to the side. “What is going on? Did a tree fall on me during the day? I managed to run faster than Usain Bolt yesterday and easily lift this wolf, so why can’t I get it off?”

  Luckily, my push was enough for me to be able to wriggle myself out slowly. As I stand up, I look at the wolf carcass, “There is nothing on it, why couldn’t I push it off? Oh, maaaaaaan, did I lose my superpowers already?”

  Thinking that perhaps it was just the extra strength I lost, I try to run as fast as possible to my basket only to trip on my dress and fall into the snow. “G–damn it, I lost it all, didn’t I? Damn. From vampire overlord back to little green riding hood, huh? I guess things could be worse…” I say as I go to my basket, dump out the rat corpses for the crows to eat, and take my belongings with me.

  “I don’t think I checked how many coins are in these pouches yet, let's see. Well, none of them are in USD, that’s for sure. They all have the face of a king or something and a cross on them,” I say, as I grab a coin only to get burned.

  “Ouch! What the hell? That felt like accidentally touching a hot pot. Wait… This is a silver coin, isn’t it? Maaaan, I’m weak to that too? What if I grab it with some cloth though?''

  Using a piece of cloth, I’m able to pick the coins up fine, “Hmm, so this is not too bad. It’s not like the sun, I just have a silver allergy.” Pulling the coins out, I see a pleasant surprise. The coins are imprinted with roman letters. “Yes! That’s good right!? That must mean that someone probably speaks English, or at least has heard of it. I have no idea where I am but this is good to know! All right, let’s see what the big haul is. We got three gold coins from the old man’s pouch, sixteen silver coins with different imprints, and forty-seven copper coins. Well, the best thing to do is probably separate them. I’ll put the copper ones in one pouch, the silver ones in another, the gold ones in the fancy leather one from the old man, and the empty pouches into the basket. Perfect! All right, time to go to that farm!”

  Filled with optimism, I descend the mountain. Thanks to good weather conditions, a full belly, and gravity on my side, it takes me only about five hours to safely reach the bottom.

  After another two hours, I reach the end of the woods. I can see the farmhouse in the distance. Excited, but slightly frightened, I finally leave the woods and walk toward the house. It looks very much made from what the land gave them. The walls are made of logs, the roof is covered with some plants and snow, and there seems to only be one boarded-up window in it. Whoever lives here is undoubtedly not very rich, but sleeping under a roof beats wild camping on the dirt floor by a mile. Step by step, I inch closer to the door, mentally preparing for what I’m about to do. If I could still sweat, I would be drenched right now.

  Now standing in front of the door, I take a deep breath before knocking and whispering a little word of encouragement to myself, “All right, you can do this Sa–”

  A loud bark comes from the other side of the door as I hear a huge dog growling and snarling, jumping at the door from the inside, making me scream in surprise and fall backward onto my butt.

  Oh shit, oh shit this was not in my plan. What do I do now, do I… do I run? Try again later?

  I can hear people shambling inside. A muffled male voice calls out from the inside in a language I do not understand, and before I can decide on what to do, the door slams open. Before me, stands a thirty-year-old looking man holding a pitchfork in my direction and a younger, maybe twenty-year-old guy, holding back the dog by a leash, standing behind him. The older one screams

  “Cò tha ann!? Dè tha thu ag iarraidh!?” (Who is there? What do you want?)

  I’m not sure if it’s because I’m physically a lot smaller than him, or because my plan didn’t go the way I wanted, but him screaming at me must have awakened one of many childhood traumas. I start to remember my father screaming and threatening me with his belt, while I hide in my room, shivering in fear. All I can do is say, “I’m… I’m so… rry,” holding back tears and protectively putting my arms in front of my face.

  The older man looks at me perplexed and halts for a second lowering his pitchfork. I can hear snippets of children and women talking in the background. Thinking now would be the best time to show them the copper coins, I slowly reach for my basket. At the same time, a woman brings the older man in front of me a lantern that he shines in front of me. His eyes widen as he plunges down his pitchfork, pinning my throat between the tines, to the ground.

  “Is e Baobhan Sith a th ’ann! Thoir sùil luath air a chasan,” (It is a Baobhan Sith! Quick check its feet boy.) He screams to someone to the side of him, outside my view. Sliding by the pitchfork, a younger boy around fourteen-years-old pins down one of my legs, attempting to take off my shoes.

  Are they… are they trying to violate me?! Panicked, I try to kick him away, but his grip is too strong. Come on, vampire powers. Work, g–damn it!

  With one kick I manage to throw him off me, against the wall. But before I can attempt to push the fork off me, the pitchfork man pushes his fork deeper into the ground, choking me. If he were to push any further, he’d surely crush my windpipe. Reluctantly, I choose my life over avoiding what is about to happen to me. Closing my eyes, I wait for the inevitable as I feel my shoes being taken off me.

  “Chan eil uncail cruidhean,” (No hooves, uncle) I hear the teen boy say to someone.

  “Is dòcha gur e dìreach fear òg a bu chòir dhuinn a mharbhadh fhad ‘s a tha sinn!” (She's probably just a young one, we should kill her while we can!) The old guy shouts back at him as he presses down further with his pitchfork, I can feel my airways tighten, leading me to gasp for air. I’m feeling as if I’m about to pass out, when I hear a woman shouting something, before I hear a crack, as my wind canal collapses and things go black.

  I wake up inside the house, next to a fire. I touch my throat just to make sure that it healed, noticing that I’ve been undressed, leaving me with only my linen clothes. This makes me remember what happened, causing me to jolt up. Breathing heavily and looking around, seeing the whole family to the left of me near the door. The pitchfork and dog man give me a look of suspicion while leaning against the wall with their arms crossed. The fourteen-or-so-year-old boy looks at me wide-eyed, his mouth open.

  To the right of me, on a big community bed, sit three children: a girl around eight years old cradling a baby in her arms and two kindergarten-aged twin boys pointing their fingers at me and hugging each other while bouncing on the hay bed. In the front, there are three women. One with red hair, who looks to be in her thirties. She seems to have an air of authority around her–with a face molded by the harshness of the wilderness, while still having a friendly facial expression. Another is a pregnant, twenty-something-year-old with dark, blonde hair, looking at me with both caution and pity. Lastly, there’s an old, easily sixty-year-old woman with a hunchback, holding herself up with a traveling stick with the end carved to look like an owl. Looking for my belongings, I find my basket lying next to me and my clothes on what looks like a drying rack strung up to the right of me.

  “He-Hello. Do you speak English?” I say to them sheepishly, still unsure of the situation I am in. After my question, they just look at each other as if unsure of what I said, so I tried again in German, “Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” Same reaction.

  I know! If they don’t speak any of these languages, they will understand the universal language of currency, I think, as I rummage through my basket to present the copper coin pouch to them. This seems to interest the pitchfork man quite a lot and put the pregnant woman at ease, but the old woman and the red-haired one seem unphased by my money.

  “Maybe it just wasn’t enough,” I mumble to myself, taking out the silver coin pouch. Forgetting about my reaction to silver, I try to pull one of them out to show them and burn myself in the process. Hissing instinctively, I accidentally reveal my teeth, leading to the men going into a fighting stance and the pregnant woman to gasp and take a step back. Startled, I let the silver coin fall and roll towards the women.

  Seemingly unphased by all of this, the old woman picks up the coin and walks over to me, prompting the pitchfork man to yell, “Faigh air ais màthair tha!” (Get back mother, it's dangerous!) Which she seems to ignore. She puts the silver coin back into my pouch and points at my acorn necklace. Confused, I take it off and give it to her. She inspects it with her shaking hands, shows it around the room, and gives it back to me. I’m not sure why, but showing the necklace to the others seemed to put them more at ease.

  The old lady then walks over to what looks like a weaving corner. I watch her pick up a little wooden box and wobble back over to me. She opens it to reveal a hair necklace with a weirdly shaped stone on it that seems to have runes engraved in it. She motions for me to put it on. Seeing as she has been quite nice to me so far, I follow her instructions and put on the necklace.

  “Can you understand me now, young Fae Folk?” The old woman says, in a warm voice.

  “Yes! Yes, I can! How did you do this?” I ask happy, yet awe-struck and slightly confused.

  “I got this necklace from an old friend of mine I helped after he got stuck in a hunter's trap when I was a little girl. It lets you communicate with both Fae Folk and humans alike,” the old woman explains.

  “Wow, this lets you speak all languages?! Does that mean it’s a magic necklace?” I ask, looking at the necklace.

  “Yes, does this bring you joy, young Fae Folk?” The old woman asks.

  “Yeah, I…I guess it does. Say, why do you keep calling me Fae Folk?”

  This question of mine seems to be something the old lady did not expect, explaining, “Well dear, seeing as I don't know your name, I just called you by what I understand other-worlders like you prefer to be called.”

  “Otherworlders? So I’m from a different world??? Can you explain this more, please… Oh, and what’s your name?”

  The old woman tilts her head a bit to the side as if she doesn’t know what to make of me, and then says, “As for my name… you can just call me Granny like everyone else. And as for you. You don’t know much about this world, do you? You must be quite young. How many springs have you seen during your life in the other world?”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Ehm, fourteen springs, I...I got hurt and was searching for a doctor. After I passed out I woke up naked and afraid on a mountain in the wilderness. I first thought it was a dream, but then I ventured down a well-lit path and found a few houses in a glade. When I went to them, two men in armor screamed at me and then ran away. I then went into a big building and saw tons of people wearing robes, dead on the ground. I was overcome by hunger and drank wolf’s blood out of a chalice on an altar. I found these clothes in a box behind it, and afterward, I just walked straight in a direction, having to shield myself from the sun with blankets so I didn't burst into flames. Then, I almost starved before a pack of wolves attacked me on the hilltop next to here. I fought them, killed them, and drank their blood to replenish myself. And then I saw your house from up there and was hoping that you could tell me what the hell is going on. But when I tried to knock on the door, this guy over here,” I point my finger at the pitchfork man, “Almost killed me!”

  “It’s not my fault that bitch app–” the pitchfork man says before the red-haired woman stomps over to him and pulls him by the ear.

  “Have you no shame? A Fae Folk came to us in her time of need and all you’ve been is hostile, rude, and inhospitable. Do you remember nothing of the tales of old? Do you wish us all dead, or stricken with sickness!?” She says in an authoritative voice.

  “But I’ve–” The pitchfork man tries to say before the red-haired woman cuts him off.

  “No buts! Apologize!”

  Defeated, the man walks closer to me and says, “I’m sorry…”

  The red-haired woman yanks on his ear again, “You’re sorry for what!?”

  “Ouch… I’m sorry for being rude to you and for hurting you. Please accept my apology, Miss Fairy.”

  “Fae folk, you idiot! Not Fairy,” she yanks at his ear again.

  “Ouch, ouch. Yes, I’m sorry miss Fae Folk. It won’t happen again, I promise!”

  Man, for such a small woman she sure is kind of scary. If he didn’t try to kill me I’d feel some sympathy for that guy.

  “Please forgive my oaf of a husband, miss Fae Folk. He is quite ignorant when it comes to anything not concerning his food, family, or willy.” Damn this woman is savage. I’d not want to get on her bad side anytime soon.

  “So please, make yourself at home here. You are welcome to stay however long you like. So, I hope you find it in your heart to have mercy on this house and its inhabitants.”

  Hmm, I should probably accept this offer… But it wouldn’t be good business if I don’t make them bleed a little.

  I think a bit before answering, “I’ll forgive him, but I have three conditions. One, he promises not to hurt me anymore. Two, I get to keep this necklace. And three, you help me find a big city and explain some more things to me.” This should be good. They probably won’t let me have this magic artifact, but I’m willing to give that up. I still get what I came here for originally, and I don’t have to hide my vampiric nature from them, so I see this as an absolute win!

  I’m lost in thought when suddenly the red-haired woman grabs my hands and says, “Thank you very much for being so humble and forgiving. We will gladly accept your conditions!” As a collective sigh of relief is uttered, I realize that I could and probably should have asked for more. “So, miss Fae Folk,” the red-haired woman asks. “What questions do you have?”

  “Well for starters, what are all of your names? What should I call you?”

  An awkward silence fills the room for a few seconds until one of the twins blurts out, “My name’s To–”

  He gets interrupted by the eight-year-old girl putting her hand on his mouth, and Granny speaks up, “How about you just give us some nicknames to call us? That seems like fun, doesn’t it?”

  I wonder why they don’t want me to know their names. Maybe they’re wanted or something. It would make sense why they’re all alone in bum-fuck-nowhere.

  “Hmm ok.” I say, “Could you form a line for me from oldest to youngest so I can give you fitting names then?” All of them, some more eager than others, oblige to my request and put themselves in a line.

  “All right. So starting with you, old lady. I’ll just keep calling you Granny.”

  Next in line is the pitchfork man, “You have been quite nasty to me so I’ll call you Dick.” This makes Granny chuckle and it looks like he is about to say something when his wife, next in line, steps on his foot and gives him a look to shut up.

  “All right, you have been quite nice to me so I’ll give you a nice name. Your hair looks quite beautiful, so I think I’ll name you Rose.”

  “What a pretty name, thank you very much,” she replies.

  “Ok next. The dog man.” Hmm, he has very baggy clothes and he is quite skinny and always with the dog… “I got it! I’ll name you Shaggy. And as for you…” I point to the pregnant blonde next to him.

  Hmm, what should I call her? All I know about her is that she’s young, blonde, and pregnant. So maybe a pun? Preggo, Preggy, “I got it… I’ll name you Peggy.”

  Next to Peggy is the guy who took my shoes off, “As for you, you’re the weirdo that wanted to see my feet!”

  After hearing me say that he blushes a little, “Wait no, that’s a misunderstanding! I had to check your feet to check for hooves!”

  “Why did you have to check my feet for hooves? That's just weird. That’s why you deserve a weird name. Pubert.”

  “Pubert? What kind of name is that?!”

  “It’s a name befitting someone who wants to look at other people’s feet! Be glad I don’t call you footboy.”

  “Footboy?! I… but–ok…”

  “Hmm, and as for you,” I point at the eight-year-old, “You are the daughter of Rose, right?

  “Yes, Miss Fae Folk,” she says, sheepishly.

  “Well you have your mother's hair, so I’ll call you Scarlet. And you two,” I say pointing at the twins punching and annoying each other, “Eh, I’ll call you Torsten and Torben. And as for the baby… Is it a boy or a girl?”

  Rose answers, “He’s a boy. We haven’t named him yet though, so if you’d like you can do the honors.”

  “What? Well, that’s a lot of responsibility but I think I can do it! From here on out your name shall be… Dave. Yes, your name is Dave now.”

  “What a nice name! But what shall we call you Miss Fae Folk?” Rose asks.

  “Oh, you can just call me Sa–” Damn I didn’t think of a girl name for me yet… better go for something long and cool sounding. “Call me… Samantha… Luna Stellar Flora Gardner, or Sam, for short.”

  G–damn it, Samuel, this name sucks. I must have used up all my creativity in naming them. But hey, that’s good enough for now, right? I can always change the name later.

  “Well, Sam. Nice to meet you. What questions do you have for us?” Rose asks.

  “Well first of all, where am I? And where is the next big city?”

  “You are in the lands of Clan Grant, a few days west of Inverness–a sizable town under Sheriff Sir Laurence le Grand.”

  “Hmm, ok. Do you happen to know about America? The USA?”

  “No, I’m sorry. I don’t. What about you, Granny? Have you heard about it?”

  “No, I can't say that I have.”

  Giving me a disappointed look, rose says, “My apologies, it seems we can’t help you with that."

  “It’s ok, I didn’t expect you to know… It’s where I’m from. I was just trying to make sure that this is a different world. Could you teach me what this money is worth?” I pull out my coin pouches. “Here, I have these copper coins. What does one copper coin buy me?”

  Rose answers, “This penny will buy you about two dozen eggs"

  “Two dozen eggs? That’s a lot more than I thought. How about this silver coin? There seem to be two types of them.”

  “Hmm these,” She points at the ones with a front-facing king, “are from the kingdom in the south. They are called shillings. And these, the one with our king, Alexander the Third’s profile, are made here. They are silver pennies. They are approximately the same amount of money and worth quite a lot. A silver penny is worth a dozen copper pennies. For a silver penny and five copper pennies, you’d be able to buy a live sheep, I reckon.”

  “Wow. I’m almost afraid to ask but what are these worth?” I show them a gold coin and I see jaws dropping.

  “I…I’m not sure. I’ve never even seen one in person before. Dick, you have worked as a servant to a magister before, right? Do you know what these are worth?”

  He comes a bit closer to inspect the gold coin’s realness and answers in a grumbly voice, “These are coins from the lower kingdom. They are worth twenty silver pennies. One of these could buy you two cows and two of them might even fetch a commoner a university education for a year. I heard that five of these could even buy you a house and citizenship. You need to take great care of these. Many men would murder for this amount of money. How did you even acquire these?” He asks with a suspicious look on his face.

  “I got these from the dead bodies of the robed people, do you know who they are? They also had necklaces like mine. You seemed to recognize it?”

  Granny, with a grief-stricken look on her face explains, “They were most likely druids. I believe that one of them must have been a nobleman still following the old ways, judging from the amount of money you found. They most likely summoned you here by accident. You said there was an altar correct? I believe they might have been trying to summon an older one of your kind but got interrupted and instead summoned you. Seeing as you know almost nothing of either the Fae Wild or this world, and from your claim that you lived only twenty-two springs, you are but an infant in the eyes of the Fae Folk who live for thousands of years.”

  “Druids? So like nature wizards who can transform into animals?” I ask her curiously, since, from the games I played, that seems to be what Druids do. And since the magic necklace exists, I’m open to all sorts of crazy ideas.

  Granny chuckles at my question and explains, “Druids can’t do that dear. They’re less wizards and more caretakers of the woods, and a mediator between the Fae Folk and us humans. They take care to appease both sides and settle disputes between us. Unfortunately, however, many folks have forgotten about the old ways.” She looks at Dick for a bit before continuing, “They think that because the druids deal with the Fey, they are also responsible for every bad interaction between Humans and the Fae Folk. Some even think that if they get rid of the Druids, they will get rid of the Fey as well. But this is a misconception for when the Druids are gone, the Fae Folk will no longer be able to settle disputes peacefully and will lash out and resort to violence. This could lead to even more people thinking that the Fae Folk are a menace until we’ll get into an all-out war. That could be the end of all of us. If nothing is done, dark times could be ahead.”

  Oh boy, this sounds like a plot hook for the main quest. This woman is a gold mine of everything I need to know, AND she gave me this magic necklace. I can’t wait for her to tell me that I’m the chosen one, destined to unite the two worlds once more!

  “I’m sorry for ranting to you, dear. I shouldn’t be telling a pretty young lady like you such a frightful story. This is, of course, not your cross to bear. You had better either find your home again or settle down somewhere with a nice prince charming, blessed with good health and many children. Just don’t forget to invite good old Granny to your wedding, will ya?” She smiles at me kindly while pinching my cheek.

  “But Granny, what if I want to be the chosen one to unite the Fae Folk and Humans no matter how long and perilous the journey?” I say while pushing out my chest and doing a soldier’s salute.

  “Now, don’t be ridiculous, dear,” Granny says to me, dismissively. “Leave the fighting to the men. Let them poke each other’s eyes out while you stay at home and make sure to raise better people than those lusting for war. Don’t let a pretty face like yours go to waste. There’ll be many affluent men lusting after you, and when you’ve found the one you’d like to marry, you’ll be set. But be careful not to get swept away by any old hoodlum wearing fancy tights. Even among the rich, good men are hard to find.”

  While I was not necessarily thrilled to hear advice on how to catch a man, seeing as I’m not into men, a few thoughts did come to my mind that I have never had before. Thoughts like, ‘Can I get pregnant now that I have this body,’ and, ‘What do I look like’.

  “Hey, Granny? You said I’m pretty, right? Can you… Can you tell me what I look like? I’ve never seen myself before.”

  After saying that, Peggy, who has been mostly quiet and reserved, looks at me as if I had grown a horn on my head. She says, “Now that is just awful,” then directs Shaggy to bring her a huge bowl of water. “Here. Look inside this bowl and you’ll see your reflection. But before you do, let me braid your hair and tidy you up a bit. Having a good impression of oneself is particularly important for a spudding young lady!”

  What follows, is what I can only describe as a medieval spa treatment. First, Peggy directs Scarlet to pick out some dried flowers from a small cabinet in a corner as well as a wooden hairbrush, some oil, and homemade soap with herbs in it. As she fixes my hair, she tells me, “I’ve been trained to be a maid and hairdresser for rich folk, you see. And I was going to make it big too. Until this charming, aspiring bard boy came up to me with shabby clothes, a body that looked like chiseled marble, and a smile that would make even a nun's heart melt. He sang serenading ballads to me and brought flowers he had picked from other people’s gardens. I even remember him being chased down the road once by guards after trying to pick the ‘perfect rose', as he called it. And then, it was not long until I was with child, or children, I suppose.” She says while washing my hair with herbal soap, my head laying on her lap.

  She points at the twins, who at this point have fallen asleep leaning on each other. “And of course, I was unable to carry on my duties, so someone else got the job as a maid to the daughter of Alexander Comyn, the Earl of Buchan. I think her name was Miranda. She was good, and deserving of the job, but she wasn’t close to my skills,” she tells me while filling a bowl with oil and putting in some of the dried flowers, mixing them around a little before putting my hair in it and combing.

  I never understood why women went on beauty trips. It took me experiencing one myself to discover how relaxing it could be. It reminds me of the old times when my mom made a bubble bath for me and read me a story before bed. It made me feel like I was home again.

  “And so…” Peggy carries on, “Here I was, pregnant, unmarried, and without a job. Any other maiden my age would have fallen into a deep depression, but not me. I was not like other maidens, you see. I was resourceful, smart, and assertive. Even back then. So I demanded, right then and there, for him to take responsibility, marry me, and find a way to support me and his child. So he took what little he had earned as alms to the church, and convinced the priest to bind us until death may part us once more. I remember the day quite clearly. I was standing there between the rose bushes in my Sunday dress, the buttons were starting to pop off. And he was standing there in a rented garb, nervously bouncing from one foot to the other. It was during the red evening sunlight that we sealed our vows with a kiss. And just as he promised, he brought me back to his parent's farm, giving up on his dreams of becoming a bard, to take care of me and his children. And we have been happily married ever since.” She says while combing the oil out of my hair and braiding a few flowers into what she called a waterfall braid.

  “And the moral of the story,” she continues, “Even if things don’t go the way you planned, you can still be happy… Now stand up Sam, it’s time for your great reveal,” she says in a giddy voice while putting her hands over my eyes. While I was excited to see what I’d look like, I had also come to terms with the fact that I won’t be seeing a reflection of myself in the water, seeing how many vampire characteristics I already embodied. I just didn’t have the heart to tell Peggy about it and… I also enjoyed her story a lot, so I didn’t want her to stop.

  “Three…” Peggy starts counting down, “Two…”

  I hope she will not be disappointed that I can’t see her work.

  “One…”

  Peggy takes her hands off of me, and I look into the water bowl, expecting to see everything but my face to show up, but I was wrong… Looking back at me is a beautiful girl, staring at me wide-eyed, with extremely feminine, elf-like features. I see jade green eyes surrounded by shiny, golden hair and colorful flowers braided into it masterfully, with pointy ears sticking out between them.

  She looks like one of those models in the magazine, and as she starts to blush all I can utter is, “Wow.” It is only when I notice that her lips are synced to mine that I come to terms with the fact that this is me, this is what I look like now.

  I make some grimaces and touch my face only to confirm it is my face, before being interrupted by Peggy asking me, “So what do you think?”

  “I… I find it hard to believe that this is me… But I… Thank you for showing me this Peggy. You were right, I do look… pretty.”

  “Of course, you do! And don’t start thinking it was my masterful abilities that made you pretty. All I did was clean you up. This is all-natural!” I look a little bit longer into the bowl chatting with Peggy before drifting to sleep peacefully.