I am Amyfelyse Lapinskye.
I don't really know how I found the Mushroom Island. It wasn't long ago, but I wasn't well and my memories are muddled. I write by the waterfall watching the mooshrooms. It's sort of lonely here. Not to say that I don't love it- I DO- but it is rather lonesome, only the mooshrooms and the mushrooms and the waterfalls and me.
I am a pacifist. I don't want to fight. Not that I can- the mooshrooms are my friends and no mobs- no hostile mobs at least- can spawn in the mushroom biome.
The mooshrooms are good friends to me- they listen, they give me fresh mushroom stew when I'm low on hunger bars, and I'm sure they'd watch the sunrise with me if they could get to my vantage point. It's my mushroom house!
I built it myself in the few weeks I've been here, and the hole in the bridging wall is the perfect place to watch the sunrise- it's the loveliest thing you've ever seen.
I have lots of dreams. What else do I have? I have the armour I had when I came to my senses. I have my backpack, I have food, I have saplings and potions. That's it, apart from the things I've looted from the land. Fat lot of good that stuff is. My dearest things are my dreams. And my dearest dream is this: to pack my backpack, fold up my bed, strap on my elytra and, as the new day dawns, leap off my mushroom house, open my elytra, and glide into the sunrise… to find the pleasures and sorrows there- maybe even leave the mushroom biome, much as I love it here- maybe find home.
It's a foolish dream, because it's a big world, and it won't happen… but it just might…
Perhaps…
Maybe.
Amyfelyse shut her book with a sigh.
She'd found it in a pocket of her backpack.
It was a little, leather-bound book with blank pages and, since the life of Amyfelyse Lapinskye was about as interesting as it got, she'd decided to write her story.
Of course, her story couldn't really be written, because Amyfelyse Lapinskye was a lie.
The girl called Amyfelyse had woken up with her cheek pressed to the cold, purple-ish dirt of the Mushroom Island. She'd known random and basic things, like the elytra on her back was used to fly, the bread in her backpack was for eating, where she was, etc. etc.
What she didn't know was other random and basic things, like her name, why she was there etc. etc.
So she'd made up Amyfelyse Lapinskye. She'd built a house with mushrooms on a mountain. She'd used wood she carried to make a crafting table and chests. She'd made friends of the land and the mooshrooms.
But it wasn't quite enough, somehow.
That was why her dream of gliding into the sunrise was so enchanting. Maybe she'd find what she was looking for, whatever it was.
Amyfelyse sighed again, deeper, and pushed the little book into her backpack. She took a deep, long drink from the waterfall next to her, then began leaping lightly down the hill beside the waterfall. Her elytra rose and fell behind her, slowing her slightly and giving her a spritely air. she sprinted around the mountain and made her way up it. She could see the magma stone around her mushroom house glowing. She'd put it there before she realised that there were no hostile mobs in the Mushroom Island places. She always had to leap over it lest she be burned.
She leapt over it now, then nimbly climbed the ladder- up past her crafting room up to the very top- where she went through the 'hole in the bridging wall' and watched the moon rise. The shining half-orb steadily ascended.
And Amyfelyse sat for a long time before she went to bed.