Humans were never meant to become bouncy castles. This unsophisticated conclusion Painter reached when the little blue fluffy ball jumped onto her head, waking her up. Painter stretched for a moment and looked at the miscreant bitterly. Under Painter’s reproachful stare, the fluffy ball seemed to shrink, wobbling apologetically.

After taking a look at the wardrobe’s contents, Painter spotted some fried eggs with potato croquettes. The little ball was watching Painter curiously as she ate.

“Here, want some?” Painter offered the little ball one of the potato croquettes. The fluffy ball didn’t seem to take on the offer though, as it just wobbled slightly.

At last, Painter put the half of the medallion she had in her pants pocket and left the house. The weather today seemed particularly good and Painter spent a moment basking in the radiance of the warm island sun. Then, she noticed a small package, lying next to her porch. She unrolled the cloth and found the knife that previously belonged to Scion. Who put it here? No one was around to answer Painter her question.

Today Painter was going to check the swamp and the white abyss. The abyss, she had seen before. Though the ghosts that dwelled there were playful, they were harmless. The inhabitants of the swamp, however, seemed to pose a threat. Painter was unsure if she would be able to return alive in one piece. The knife lay in her pocket, serving as the last line of defense.

Painter decided to leave the swamp for last. First, she carefully explored the boulders, which hovered over the abyss. Painter thought that perhaps the highest of them would reveal something, just like how the clouds had revealed the first part of the medallion to her. Unfortunately, all of her searches were in vain. The plants were dissimilar on the boulders, and the boulders themselves were different in size, but none of them seemed to contain any clues. Without any incentive to wander those bridges, Painter left towards the swamp.

The swamp was distinct from other island locations. Painter remembered the creatures she saw before: wobbling fluffy balls, impish ghosts, chocolate bunnies, birds, colorful fishes. Aside from the weird creature with red burning eyes, all others seemed pretty harmless. The swamp, however, reminded of a menagerie, where only the carnivorous creatures were put. Creatures, similar to snakes, jackals and wolves were everywhere, growling and hissing. There were also others that were too quaint for Painter to think of anything similar to them.

Those carnivores attacked each other relentlessly, turning the swamp into a sea of red. The terrain of the swamp seemed to change as well. It never was constant. The flowers there wilted and bloomed again. The trees there lost their leaves, got new ones and lost them again. Some trees fell, new ones appeared. Wait. Painter concentrated her attention on the trees, whose leaves changed their color and fell. She noticed that the swamp wasn’t as chaotic as she previously thought. Instead, it was a place that was more orderly than any of the other biomes on the island. The terrain changed systematically, the nature blooming and fading in a strict arrangement. Painter also noticed that the creatures inside seemed to avoid areas in which it was ‘Autumn’ as if it was the bane of their existence.

After some time, Painter noticed a path through which she would be able to reach deeper into the swamp. She proceeded, paying heed to the current time of the ‘year’. When she reached the center of the swamp, she noticed the second part of the medallion. Painter connected both of them. Immediately, the two parts seemed to mend together, as if they were never apart. Some parts of the medallion started to glow with green soft light and an arrow appeared. Painter waited for the arrow to move, to do something, but it was lifeless. Painter touched the arrow, but it didn’t seem to help. Painter felt that it was not the time for it to move. That it would move only tomorrow, on Saturday.

Then, Painter realized that she had spent more time there than she should have. The ‘Autumn’ changed to ‘Winter’ and then all hell broke loose. An avalanche of wild beasts followed Painter as perhaps they thought of her to be an easy target, a cacophony of hissing, growling, grunting and roaring deafening her. Painter dashed madly, praying to be able to get out of the swamp, the medallion clasped in her hand tightly. Painter saw an ‘Autumn’ area, close to her, and she bolted there. Something bit her.

Painter moved from area to area, but now she didn’t have the luxury to choose the optimal pathway. She was running as a hunted rabbit, hopping between areas. She was scratched and bitten, bleeding, but she didn’t pay any attention to it, all of her mind concentrated on one single task: to get out.

Finally, she left the swamp. She heaved a sigh of relief. She managed to do it. Painter allowed a small smile to bloom on her face, marred by blood, before the world turned black as she fell, exhausted. She dreamed of someone lifting her with their hands and carrying her somewhere.

As Painter woke up, she was lying on a glade, fluffy balls surrounding her from all sides. The little ones were glowing, light they produced entering Painter’s body. Painter saw all of her injuries healing as light touched her. She was alive, the medallion was by her side, glowing faintly. Painter blinked. The swamp was far in the distance, she didn’t walk here on her own. Perhaps, the dream she experienced wasn’t a dream after all?

Painter returned when it was already dark. The little blue ball wobbled happily as it saw her, but Painter ignored it. Without changing her clothes she fell on her bed and dreamed on the island for the last time.