Lacey’s Chapter 2

Packing my camping supplies felt a little like gearing up for an expedition. Tent, chair, cooler, fire‑starting kit, the essentials. I checked each item twice, partly out of habit and partly because I knew once I got to Granite Falls, there wouldn’t be a convenient “oops, I forgot that” option. Before I left, I set up the display for the login event back home. The questline hasn’t fully unlocked yet, but when it does, I’ll be the one continuing it. Something for future me to worry about. Present me had a forest to get to.

The drive to Granite Falls was long enough to clear my head but short enough that I didn’t start questioning my life choices. When I arrived, I headed straight for the campground. It was simple — a few scattered sites, a communal fire pit, and the kind of quiet that settles into your bones. Exactly what I needed. I set up my tent, unfolded my chair, and parked my cooler like it was a loyal sidekick ready for adventure.

Dinner that first night was hot dogs roasted over the campfire. A little charred, a little smoky, and exactly right for the setting. There’s something about eating outdoors that makes even the simplest food taste like a reward. After that, I crawled into my tent and let the woods lull me to sleep. The air smelled like pine and damp earth, and for the first time in a while, I felt completely at ease.

The next morning, I started exploring. Granite Falls has this way of making you feel like you’re the only Sim awake in the world — the kind of quiet that isn’t empty, just peaceful. I harvested anything I could find: plants, mushrooms, insects. Whether I could identify them or not didn’t matter. My pockets filled up fast, and half the time I wasn’t sure if I was collecting ingredients or future regrets, but that’s part of learning Herbalism. You gather first, question later.

As the days passed, I wandered farther and even tried my hand at fishing. I’m not great at it yet, but I caught enough to feel like I wasn’t just waving a stick at the water.

Back at camp, I tried to light the fire again and managed to burn my arm in the process. It hurt — a sharp, stupid sting — but not enough to send me home. If anything, it just made me wish I already knew how to make a burn remedy. Herbalism: 0. Fire: 1.

Once the fire finally cooperated, I roasted beetles. Not my preference, not even close, but at least I can say I did it. Once. Exactly once. After that, I tossed horseshoes until the sun dipped low, then headed into my tent for some sleep. The night air was cool, and the stars looked close enough to touch.

I woke up energized in the mornings, the kind of energy that makes you drop and do pushups just because you can. So I did. Then I got to work identifying the plants I’d collected and diving into Herbalism. I managed to learn two remedies — Sadness Alleviation Potion and Insect Repellent Liniment — both useful, both satisfying to make. Neither helpful for the burn on my arm, unfortunately. As I learned more about herbalism, I learned more remedies.

With half my inventory full of unidentified plants, I checked the map to see what else Granite Falls had to offer. The national park — Granite Falls Forest — looked promising, all winding trails and shaded paths, so I headed that way. The deeper I walked, the more the world shifted into that soft, green quiet that makes you forget you ever lived anywhere else.

While exploring, I stumbled across a small building tucked between the trees. Inside, someone had arranged an impressive display of insects — pinned, labeled, and organized with the kind of enthusiasm only a true collector could manage. It was oddly comforting, like meeting a kindred spirit who expresses their love of nature through meticulous categorization instead of hiking boots.

There was a fireplace too, and I lit it just to enjoy the warmth. After a couple of nights of campfire mishaps, it felt good to sit by flames that didn’t try to injure me. The crackling sound filled the space in a way that made the loneliness feel less sharp.

I didn’t expect to miss conversation as much as I did. I’m not a loner — I like people, just not crowds — and this was the longest I’d gone without talking to anyone. Luckily, Granite Falls has no shortage of interesting Sims.

First was Jameson, wandering around in a full bear costume like it was the most normal outfit in the world. He didn’t explain it, and I didn’t ask. Some things are better left as mysteries.

Then I met Trey, who turned out to be a ghost. Friendly, surprisingly chatty, and very committed to floating instead of walking. Talking to both of them helped more than I expected. Even the strangest company is still company.

Later that evening, my phone buzzed with a message from Mara. Apparently the house felt too empty after everyone moved out, and she and Derek decided the obvious solution was… another baby. And as if that wasn’t enough news, she added that Emily had a baby too — a little boy named Brice. I stared at the screen for a long moment, then laughed. Only my family would respond to quiet by adding more noise.

Out here, surrounded by trees and trails and the steady rhythm of my own footsteps, it felt like a different world entirely. But hearing from home reminded me that life keeps moving — theirs, mine, all of it — and somehow that made the forest feel even more peaceful.

What I didn’t know then — what no one has told me yet — is that little Brice Sousa isn’t actually a Sousa at all. He’s the product of an affair between Emily and someone named Cristopher Whitten. A secret tucked neatly behind the noise of new babies and busy lives. Out here in the forest, surrounded by trees that keep their own quiet truths, I have no idea that my family’s story just grew another hidden branch.

I brought my bicycle with me on this trip, which turned out to be one of my better decisions. Granite Falls looks manageable on a map, but once you’re actually out here, the trails stretch on forever. Riding through the forest feels like gliding through a living maze — sunlight flickering through the trees, the air cool and sharp, the ground humming under the tires. It’s the kind of movement that clears your head without asking anything in return.

While exploring the national park, I noticed a narrow passage tucked between two rock formations. It didn’t look like much, but something about it felt… intentional. I followed it, pushing my bike beside me until the forest shifted around me — quieter, denser, older somehow. That’s how I found the Deep Woods.

And that’s where I met Ronan Kaiser.

He appeared the way the Deep Woods itself does — quietly, without fanfare, like he’d always been there. A hermit, definitely. A loner, absolutely. But not unfriendly. After a few cautious conversations, he agreed I could stay for a while. Maybe he liked the company. Maybe he just didn’t mind mine.

His cabin was small and tucked into the trees like it had grown there. I loved it immediately. I slipped into a rhythm without even thinking about it — cooking meals, cleaning up, collecting herbs from the surrounding woods, exploring every corner of the hidden glade. I found all ten of the unidentified plants I needed, and my Herbalism skill climbed with every remedy I brewed. My aspiration ticked forward to its final tier: live in a tent for a week, master Herbalism.

And then there was Ronan.

What started as quiet companionship warmed into something more physical, more intimate. We woohooed — a lot — but without promises or expectations. He belonged to the Deep Woods. I belonged to the wider world. We both understood that. It didn’t make the time together any less real.

But after a few days, homesickness crept in around the edges. Not dramatic, just a soft ache — a reminder that I had a life waiting for me, a home, a family, a future that didn’t live in a hidden glade. I knew it was time to go.

Before I left, though, I realized I was taking home more than memories. My body felt different. My instincts felt different. And when I finally checked, the truth settled over me like a warm, startling wave: I was pregnant.

I told Ronan before I left. He took the news well. No panic, no pressure, no expectations. Just acceptance. He would stay in the Deep Woods. I would return home. Our paths had crossed, intertwined, and now were parting.

First, though, I had to find my tent. I’d left it back in the national forest, and retracing my steps through the winding trails felt like waking from a dream.

When I finally made it home, dusty and exhausted, I didn’t bother with anything except crawling straight into my tent. I slept for as long as my body demanded — deep, heavy sleep that felt like sinking into the earth itself.

When I woke, I knew what came next: going to meet my new baby sister, Sienna.

Simmers!

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