For the next few days, I began preparing myself for whatever I would face when Quinn returned and for the job of keeping the promise I'd made to Rolburn. This was mainly a mental struggle, carried on between conversations with Rolburn, meals and the rising and setting of the sun. I examined Quinn's behavior from every angle I could think of, not searching for reasons to despise him this time but for reasons to make some sort of peace.

Saving me from rain. After I had threatened to kill him, too. I could see no profit that he'd obtained by this action.

Caring for me instead of letting me die. Rolburn had given me many examples of Quinn's attention to me during my convalescence. Here, the only reward he could hope for was my hostility towards him to ease, which could not be characterized solely as the motivation of a murderer.

Continuing to care for me beyond basic treatment. The food I and Rolburn had received was more than what I expected, especially since much of what I was given was fruit, similar to what my people are in the End. He had no need to prepare it as he did, and certainly no need to pay attention to my personal tastes. This also could only serve to increase my friendliness towards him, but as it came as a consequence from the initial choice to save my life, I was once again unable to pin this choice as one with ill intent.

Asking if I needed anything while he was gone. Who asks their enemy that? Obviously he did not view me as an enemy, but now the question was: what am I to him? Why does he go so far beyond duty's call? Or does he consider this a part of his duty?

I sat in Quinn's small garden one afternoon, thinking these things over under the shadow of a large oak that had somehow managed to grow in the little earth that floated upon this pond it sat in. Rolburn knelt a few feet away, carefully harvesting grain and potatoes. The warm sun shone out from behind a scattering of clouds in the sky and the air bore the sharp scent of past rain. The flowers that adorned Quinn's roof glistened with the drops and nodded with the breeze that played with them. I watched their tossing heads for a while, losing myself in the simple rhythm.

"Quinn's crops must be so happy." Commented Rolburn. "They're growing so well."

"It is the rain that has gladdened them, I believe."

"Well," he replied, rubbing the dirt from a potato, "they look happy to me. Big and full of life. Humming from the ground they grew in."

I turned my eyes to the Piglin, watching him carefully place each harvested plant in the bucket he'd brought. He cared so much. Had he been like this before his transformation, or was this some kind of side effect on his mind? I decided to believe the former, since it seemed more likely that he too was a "Golden Heart", as he'd called Quinn, than that a rotting disease had made him this way. As for me...I was no Golden Heart. I held no illusions about that. But perhaps that was for the best for the both of us.

A cloud floated between us and the sun, dimming the rays that poured upon us and taking a little of the warmth. I looked up. Light filtered through the thin grey wisps, almost seeming to strain to reach the ground. Is forgiveness like that? Pushing to reach through the bitterness and hate that comes before it? I was not sure what conclusion to draw. Or if I should be drawing advice from the weather.

Rolburn came and sat down beside me. His bucket was full and sweat glistened on his skin. "More happy plants will grow." He murmured. His hand rested on mine. "They will always grow. Always come up and find a way to the sun. Warmth...."

A puzzled thought wove its way through my mind. "Rolburn, if you miss the warmth, why do you not want to go back to the Nether?"

The Piglin bowed his head. A tiny snuffle was his only reply. I patted his hand and let him be.

The cloud drifted away, once more letting the sun shine through unhindered. If Quinn came back now...what would I do? I found myself at a loss.

"I don't go back," Rolburn said, "because I don't want to. The fire, the peace, the shining kindness, others. I miss them all. But I am not one of them anymore. My very skin shows the betrayal wrought upon me." He lifted his decayed hand, turning it this way and that, examining it. "To go back, to claim that world as my home again...I cannot. It cannot be my home anymore, because I have been dragged from it, and forced to take shelter beneath a colder sky." His brown eyes narrowed as he squinted up towards the sun.

I tapped the ground, redirecting the sudden spurt of frustration I always felt at the mention of my friend's misfortune. "Just because you were forced from your home does not mean it is no longer your home. Surely you know Piglins like you have returned to the Nether."

"Mhm." He nodded. "They have. Their thoughts were always mute, hidden behind teeth and tongues that never opened again. They never spoke about why they returned. But do you know, Trex, that fire festers? In dead flesh it smolders and cinders."

My eyes flicked to the edges of his skin. "They're in pain? Why..."

"Home is home. Maybe that's all they need." Rolburn shrugged. "But I have less to call me back than what keeps me here. Friends. A corner. Chances. Peace. Drops that fall into you and me and him and create new life." His hooves thudded against the ground, happy thuds as he kicked his feet a little. "Home will always blaze. But home must also keep me awake. Eyes open. Mind aware." He gestured around in random directions.

I wish I understood you better. "Rolburn...I..." My breath slowly and wearily left my body in a long sigh. "I think I only partially know what you mean."

The Piglin hummed, one single note that sent him rocking back and forth. But his expression was blank. I couldn't read him at all. When he spoke again, his voice was low enough I had to lean closer to hear him. "I'm sorry. Rotten mind makes ideas foggy and dirty. Then the words come, but dark, like walking through a swamp."

"You speak clearly a lot of the time." I assured him. "Don't worry about it, Rolburn. I'll learn to understand over time."

He leaned onto my shoulder, snuffling again. The heads of grain, green enough to yet remain in the earth, swished and swayed about, the scent of living grass and damp earth gradually permeating our surroundings. The wind coursed gently past us. It was so peaceful it almost hurt, deep inside me. So much that I missed of my home was all around us-had been around us-had yet I had remained blind to it until now.

We returned indoors shortly afterwards. Two more days and Quinn would be back. I would have to face what I thought of him and what I was supposed to think. Rolburn went back to his corner, relaxing and kicking his hooves beside his lava pool, while I sat nearby, watching golden bubbles rise and pop in the liquid fire.

Overhead, we heard the front door open and close. "Quinn has returned." I told Rolburn. He nodded.

We waited for Quinn to come downstairs, but all we heard were his footsteps walking through the house. He was putting things away, probably whatever he'd received or obtained on his trip. But there was something a little different about the way he was walking. It was as if he was going softly, on tiptoe through his own home. A cautious curiosity stole over me. "I'm going to see if he needs any help." I told Rolburn, who immediately sat up and said he was coming too.

We climbed the ladder, I going first, and peeked into the kitchen, where we'd last heard the footsteps. An unknown person stood there. I pulled Rolburn back, away from the door. He squeaked in surprise at the sudden movement. I clapped a hand over his mouth, standing quite still. Who was this? How did they get in? Why were they here?

"I'm not here to hurt you." The person said. Rolburn and I blinked at each other. He knew Chatspeak?

A tousled brown head looked around the corner at us. Sky-blue eyes gazed at the floor near us, while the man waves a hand at us. "Hi." We didn't respond, watching him in alarm and confusion. The man suddenly put his hand to a small sack he carried at his belt and pulled out a small orange square, which he began to unfold. We stared as it took the form of a full-size pumpkin. He shook it once and suddenly it was a pumpkin. The side facing us had seemed misshapen at first, but now I could see it had a face carved into it. The stranger put this pumpkin on his head. And looked up at us.

Where are his eyes? I knew my own instincts, I should be enraged right now. But where were his eyes? I couldn't see them. It was as if he had none at all. I took a step backward.

"Quirk really should keep one of these." The man muttered. "It would make his life a lot easier." He shook his head. "So, how are you? He'll be back soon and then you'll see...something. Something I forgot. But it's important that you see it." He rubbed the pumpkin as though scratching his head.

Rolburn tilted his head. "Where are you?"

"Right here." The man answered.

I advanced a stride, putting the Piglin behind me. "How do you know our language? Who are you? Why are you here?"

The pumpkin rocked from side to side as the man considered his answer. "I was taught by a friend...I think he was a friend...my name is Karl and I thought I'd pop by to see how the enemies-to-friends arc is going."

Both of us were too puzzled to reply to this. We just stared longer. I kept looking for his eyes. I still couldn't see them. It was disconcerting.

"Well, I hope?" Asked Karl. "You seem freaked out. You okay?"

"Where are your eyes?" I demanded. I wanted to rip that mask off his face, but I knew where that could go. And Rolburn had asked me to try.

Karl patted his pumpkin. "Oh, I have them. They're just hidden so you won't be angry if I look at you. It's easier to talk when one can see one's conversationalist. Partner. Person. Being. Entity...." He trailed off. "Anyway, you're doing fine! Don't worry, I brought no one with me. Bye, now."

"Wait." I said, stopping him. "Wait. That's it? You come in here with no real explanation, no answers for us, just an enigmatic set of remarks concerning our well-being, you hide your eyes, and now you're just leaving? Who are you?" I took another step forward. "How do you know about us? What do you want from us? Does Quinn know you? Why did you come here?"

Those black pumpkin eyes stared back at me like the sockets of a skull. "My name is Karl, like I said. I knew because I guessed from what Squirrel told me about his issues. He was very reticent, but told me enough to guess someone had tried to kill him, and he was struggling with why he wanted to make peace and how he was to do it. I want nothing from you, except that you don't kill him. I like him. He's my friend. Yes, he knows me. A little. As much as I've let him. And I came here to find if my reasoning was correct. It was. And now I will leave you as I found you: in secrecy."

I heard Rolburn whimpering behind me.  As for myself, I was astounded. "You are no Player...."

Karl shrugged. He took off the pumpkin and looked outside. "I am. And once I was just like any other. But," and he smiled wistfully, "that was in another life. Another time. But I am still a traveller of this world, of these years. Maybe I will see you again." Turning away, he began walking towards the door. "Goodbye, Edward."

"My name's not Edward."

He paused. "Oh. Sorry, I forgot." Then, just as he reached the door, as his hand was about to grab the knob, there was a flicker of purple symbols that swirled about him and he disappeared. Rolburn huddled up to me.

"He wasn't scary." He whispered. "But so...so much like rainwater falling through a sieve."

"Like what?" I looked down at Rolburn, puzzled by his words.

The Piglin hummed and gave me another hug before muttering, "I dunno." And returned down the ladder.

I walked to the front door, looking out if the windows that were built into the wall beside it. Nothing. Not a sign of "Karl". What was he? How had he teleported, just like that? I had very few answers, it seemed, after all.

Returning down to the corner with Rolburn, I found him sitting under the oak in my corner. He was patting the grass and covering his eye socket with some moss. He seemed distressed, but as I sat down beside him, he made his happy sounds again and squirmed closer to me. He didn't speak, and I decided against asking. We waited again, though by now I was a little jumpy, and anyone besides Quinn would have made me hide Rolburn and attack them myself.

The next day was quiet. Fog hung over the trees and the pond, creating an actually lovely effect of mist on the water. The sun remained hidden behind clouds, its light dispersed through them into cold whiteness that highlighted the mist's movements in the wind. Leaves twirled and rustled, occasionally falling to float in the water. A fish or two nibbled and them and darted away again. Rolburn and I watched them from inside, mutely agreeing that today was too cold to go out just yet.

Footsteps thudded on the turf beyond the front door. We both spun around; I put Rolburn behind me while he struggled and grunted to be let out. He wanted to do the protecting this time.

But I recognized Quinn before he even entered the house. That distinctive sigh he always gave, just before turning the doorknob. The way he thumped his boots on the improvised mat outside, getting the mud off in two or three kicks. He stepped inside and I was already letting go of my friend, letting him know it was alright.

"Quinn!" Rolburn darted forward, knocking the Player in the chest and patting him excitedly. "I'm glad you're back. Your friend came yesterday and talked to us."

Both Quinn's eyes lit up in alarm. "Wait, what? Who? Which one? What did they say?"

"It was Karl." I responded, this time being the one to look away. I was already questioning Quinn in my mind. Did you send him? Was this your idea of a test? Did you want to see what I would do to him?

I could hear the relief in Quinn's sigh. "Karl. He's alright. I didn't know he would come here, though. I would have told you. I'm sorry." I glanced back to see him patting Rolburn's arm. "You guys alright?"

I didn't answer right away, too surprised by the sincerity in his tone to acknowledge it. Was he actually worried? And why about both of us? Surely Rolburn was his concern....

"We're alright." Rolburn answered, coming back to me. "Karl drips like rainwater, but he's okay. Why's he move so much?"

Quinn frowned. "Move...? I don't...understand. What do you mean, 'move'?"

The Piglin tapped his fingers on each other. "I dunno...but it's like he's not really here."

Quinn glanced at me, or towards me. I shrugged. "I wish I knew what he meant."

"Well..." Quinn said, "I know Karl's a good guy. He's the best friend I have right now. So, whatever he is, you have nothing to fear from him."

I hoped he was right. The way Karl spoke and the pumpkin he'd used...something told me he held far more secrets than any of us would ever know. But he had said he wanted nothing from us, except that we not harm Quinn. Maybe that would have to be reassurance enough.