Early morning always held a warm place in Tim Shepard's heart for as long as he could remember, He could remember when his mother would wake him and his brother up, telling them to play before they would have to begin on their daily tasks. She would often join them in their early morning fun, playing games such as tag or telling them legends of a land called "Illusia".

Illusia was a land rumored to exist at the edge of the nearby forest where only those who were pure of heart could enter. There were many tales about mystical creatures such as fairies and dragons and many more tales about untold riches.

As a child, Tim often dreamed of this land. A land where Fairies existed and Dragons, and many other beings. He'd often lay in bed dreaming about one of the fabled "Wish Faeries" coming to bring him and his family to their world. A world where they weren't just poor farmers trying to make ends meet, they could have food any time they pleased and never worry about winter. He and his siblings could just play all day and never worry about anything. However, after his mother had died of pneumonia when Tim was ten, Tim had given up on such dreams. Such perfect worlds didn't exist, if they did, he sure was too old to think about them. Curly and Angela had never given up their dreams of such a place, Tim almost envied them for it.

Tim shook his thoughts aside as he adjusted his position in his hunting stand, bow in his hand with an arrow knocked, waiting for an unfortunate animal to cross his path. He felt bad killing the animals, but it was winter and Tim had to put dinner on the table while his father sold his wood carvings in the capital. He often chastised his fathers for these endeavors, after all, they hardly ever made any substantial amount of money from it and they would be better off selling animal hides, but his father was a stubborn man.

Tim let out a breath, watching it turn to fog in the early winter air. The wait was boring, and he had lost most feeling in his legs hours ago. He rolled his head and looked out the window, seeing nothing besides the occasional leaf scutter across the snow. He wiggled his fingers to retain the feeling in them. He closed his eyes for a moment before he jolted awake, he couldn't sleep, not now. He picked up a little nut from the tree and threw it against the floor for some form of entertainment, but eventually, he lost the nut to a small hole in one of the boards. He curled his toes and rose, his eyes widening when he saw a deer.

He grabbed his bow and drew the string back, eying his prey before letting the arrow fly, grinning as he saw the deer fall, letting out a shriek. His heart was racing and he could almost feel the heat return to his body. He hopped down from his hunting perch, using the ladder to make it safely down. He shook his head, putting his bow over his shoulder, and raced to the deer. He knelt down, frowning at how small the deer was, a year old at most. He sighed, it wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. He grabbed his knife and stabbed the deer in the heart, putting it out of its misery. He pet the soft coat with a sigh before yanking his arrow out and cleaning it on the snow. He picked the deer up, gathering its legs into his hands and dragging it to his faithful horse, Clyde. He threw the deer on the sled and hopped onto Clyde, clicking his horse towards the house.

He arrived home about 15 minutes later and hopped off Clyde. He went behind the large horse and took the sled off, letting the ropes fall as he grabbed Clyde's lead rope, bringing the stallion to the stable, and took off his riding gear. He pet Clyde's sturdy side and made sure he had enough hay and water before returning to the deer. He dragged the sled to the house and hung the deer on the skinning rack. He cut off the fur carefully so he could make a rug out of it and perhaps sell it in town. He set it aside and cut it into the deer's skin, watching the blood pool onto the wooden table that had the blood of many various animals on it. Tim removed all the internals, sorting them between what was edible and what wasn't, or what could be used for something else (like using intestines to make sausage casings). He then butchered the rest of the deer. He grabbed the bucket of what his family wouldn't eat and tossed it to the pigs before bringing what would be eaten or used inside.

The cabin was warmed by the fire, and he smiled seeing his sister trying to mend one of Curlys socks. Her needlework was crude but functional (mother died before she could teach her as Angela had still been young).

"Did you catch anything?" Angela asked, looking up. The upper part of her lip was red from where her tongue had been poked out in concentration.

"Not much, but hopefully enough for a couple of weeks if we ration it carefully," Tim replied, looking at her fondly. Angela reminded him of mother.

He salted the deer and set the hide in his room to be made into a rug. Tim grabbed a bag filled with furs and skins that had been made into various objects he hoped would give them a few silvers. He brought it down, looking at his sister.

"Where's Curly?" He asked.

"He said he would be at Jane's house." Angela shrugged. "Are you heading into town?"

Tim sighed. He swore he would kill his brother one day if he were to get Jane pregnant. "Yes, I am. Would you like anything?"

"More paints if you can find any…" Angela said, looking down.

Tim smiled softly. "Of course." He wasn't sure if many paints were being made this time of year, but occasionally he would find the imported color or two. Angela loved to paint, there was not a single surface on the cabin untouched by her paints. It was one of the few joys she got.

Angela smiled brightly and went back to try to fix her brother's sock.

Tim walked out of the house and made his way into town with his bag, setting it up in one of the vacant stalls as he reached the town square.

In warmer seasons, the streets would be bustling with the middle class and the lower class like himself. In Winter, it was often just the peasants who were too busy and poor to shop, leading to very few sales today. He frowned. He had sold two furs of his seven for heavily discounted prices, so he only made about 4 Silvers.

He took his shop down and walked around the various stalls until he found some paints, frowning at the price. There was no way he could afford it, not for 38 Silvers. He sighed, dejected, and gathered his things, returning home empty.

It was afternoon when he returned home and found Angela making some stew from the deer. She looked at him, frowning when she didn't see anything in Tim's hand, but quickly hid it.

"Did you make anything?" She asked, worried.

"Just four…" Tim sighed. "Smells good." He sat down on the kitchen chair and rubbed his sore feet.

This year had already been the worst in terms of sales. They were running out of money to keep their livestock alive and what livestock they did have was getting too old to produce anything of much value. Tim was horrified at the idea of marrying Angela off for money, but they were running out of options.

Angela handed him a bowl of stew and smiled sweetly. "Maybe next week will be better."

"Maybe." Tim agreed, sipping the broth. "Curly still not back?"

Angela shook her head and Tim grumbled. He finished his stew quickly and stood. "I'll be back once I drag that idiot home."

He left for Jane's house. Jane was their nearest neighbor and in a far better situation than his family, but he swore Curly had an almost unhealthy obsession with the poor girl. He frowned not seeing any sign of Tim.

He pondered where his brother could have wandered off to. He decided to check the forest. He would need to talk with Curly about how he was too old to believe in Illusia anymore. He went into Neverdam Forest and followed human footprints through the snow until he came to a place that was bizarre, to say the least.

It was an open clearing, yet there was no snow anywhere, and it was almost warm. Tim arched a brow, but he looked down just in time to see the ground open up like a mouth. He yelped as he felt something pull him down under the ground. He closed his eyes, bracing for death, but found instead he landed on something soft.

He blinked his eyes open as he looked around. It was warm here, almost as though it was summer, which was impossible since it was winter, not summer. He was in a meadow with tall grass and wildflowers, with large trees surrounding him. He wasn't sure how to describe it, but the world almost seemed to be tinted a gentle warm color. The air was clean and smelled vaguely of honeysuckle. He stood on his feet when he saw a figure approach from the distance. He gazed at it curiously before he noticed it was far taller than he was.

He backed away as the being drew close. He scanned it...no him as he came close. The figure was tall, with pointed ears and a sharp jawline, with hair that was brown and had a gentle cowlick in the back. He had strong tan skin and hazel eyes. He was at least six feet tall and seemed almost too perfect to be real. He had large muscles and was attractive, but more of the typical dream man girls would describe.

The man looked just as surprised to see him, and that was all Tim remembered before he fainted.