You and your friends reach the decision to hold onto your items for now, and to head back to your boat for a much needed evening meal.
 
You start by making your way south to the town’s entrance. However, much like the strange emptiness you felt the last time you passed through the gate, this time, you feel a flow of magic rushing back into your body.
 
From the corner of your eye, you notice the nearby knights suddenly turning their heads in your direction. As not to arouse any more suspicion, you stiffly keep walking, eyes forward, avoiding their hidden stares as best you can.
 
Once you’ve made it far enough, you tentatively glance over your shoulder to make sure that you were not followed. A sigh of relief escapes your muzzle when you see the guards still at their posts, far in the distance.
 
You continue to trace your steps back, past the farmlands, through the wooded valley, and all the way to the island’s eastern horn. After about an hour’s walk, you finally arrive at your ship, still safely anchored by the shore where you last left it.
 
Your party takes a moment to rest, and uses some of the food supplies to cook three generous servings of warm fruity oatmeal, which you then all eagerly devour.
 
You feel satiated.
 
With your empty stomachs taken care of, you decide to check on your belongings, and make sure that everything is in order. You find that while you did not have access to your sidereal bag earlier, the items inside were left untouched.
 
This reminds you that it might be a good idea to cut back on using magic items while staying in Midgard. And so, despite it serving you well, you take off your trusty magic ring.
 
You unequip Ring of Alter Sex. You are now a stallion again.
 
… It takes you a few seconds to process that there seems to have been some sort of mishap after all.
 
But before you can try to sort that situation out, a figure blends into existence nearby, as if coming out of an invisible painting, and takes the shape of a familiar equinculus.
 
Apple Basket: “Whoa Nelly! Eleven?”
 
Eleven: “Ecnatsissa ruoy eriuqer ew, sreraeb cigam.”
 
Moonflower: “What’s goin’ on?”
 
You approach Eleven. Though relatively expressionless, he seems to be speaking with more urgency than usual.
 
Eleven: “Retsam ruo si ti. Noos su teem ot snalp ehs. Ydaer tey ton era ew tub, reh yned tonnac ew.”
 
Feeling somewhat responsible, you ask him how you can help.
 
Eleven: “Tuoba su thguat uoy evol siht lennahc uoy hcihw hguorht, dnob lautum a erahs eerht uoy. Sdnob ralimis erahs ot mees dnik ruoy fo srehto.”
 
You try asking the equinculus if he is referring to friendship. He hesitates, then after some consideration, he nods.
 
Eleven: “Pihsdneirf. Sey. Dnob a hcus etaerc ot woh nrael ot hsiw ew.”
 
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