Hello, I just wanted to give a little introduction here to my introduction. Yay, right?

Well, this is a brief chapter that just kind of introduces the Valley. Reviews/Critiques are greatly appreciated, as this is my first fanfic ever, and I'm sure I could use all the help I could get. XP

As much as I realize that Skye/(insert your character's name here) has been done before, he is just a fun guy, and if I'm allowed, I would like to give my version of the story. :3 I hope you enjoy my little tale.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harvest Moon or any of its characters/settings/anything in it however awesome it may be.

--

Forget-Me-Not Valley; I had always believed that even the name seemed magical.

And what a magical place it was.

This morning as well, (after hurling my alarm clock at the nearest possible wall and stumbling to greet the world at the atrocious time of 6am,) I found myself remembering those words. After throwing open the rather sorry front door to my equally sorry cabin, it was the Valley that would always greet me and welcome me into the next day of my life. The brisk spring air would create a miraculous harmony with one of the Valley's signature sunrises, and it was only then I would realize just how fortunate I was to be living there.

Those moments would quickly fade, however, when it would click that I had milk to deliver.

As the only rancher in all of Forget-Me-Not Valley, Thomas, the Mayor of Mineral Town/Shipper of the Valley, concluded that the responsibility of Milkman fell on me. ("It'll be great exercise! Your thighs will shrink!" he said. And of course, at the time, that much seemed rather appealing.) So every morning, my first job would be to take my bottles of milk and wonder from house to house to ensure that no person, elderly and young alike, would go without fresh milk for the day.

Tugging my little wooden wagon behind me bright and early would always make me feel like a 5-year-old setting up their first lemonade stand. Though the job became routine quickly enough, that feeling had never completely vanished. Perhaps that was why I never gave up the job completely.

My route would seem odd to anyone who had never visited the Valley. I would always begin by entering the town square and delivering milk to the one-eyed doctor, the over-worked nervous wreck, and the athlete. Then I would stop by the bar, and visit the Inn, which received more milk than any other place, for obvious reasons. I would then head south, to make my way by the twin fireworks mechanics, the scientist with a mermaid in his basement, the artist, and the musician who lived in his yurt. By crossing the bridge I would go to the infamous vegetable farmers, whom were likely my closest friends in the valley. Traveling north from there would bring me to the archaeologist, and south to a lovely retired couple whom lived comfortably on top of a hill. On my way back, I would leave a bottle for the friendly harvest sprites, and would stop by my mentor's house before entering my own, ready to fall back asleep once again.

If you ask me, it was everyday life.

As I learned throughout my life in that Valley, there would never be a place like it. There was magic and love, suspense and glory, success and failure, and of course, fiction and fact. Unfortunately, as I also learned, the hardest part of living in a Valley of magic was learning which parts of my life were, in fact, real, and which were simply illusions and tricks.

So when I met a man who lived through trickery and fiction, life became incredibly difficult.