Roland adjusted his satchel and leaned back slightly on Brontus' broad, strong back as they began the journey home. Sol ran ahead and returned in loops, his bright energy punctuating the quiet mornings. The road stretched out beneath them, not rushed, not urgent—just the gentle rhythm of travel.
"You know," Roland said, letting his gaze wander over the rolling hills, "there's something satisfying about moving slowly. You notice the little things—the wind, the sunrise, the way the streams curve through the land."
Brontus rumbled softly, golden eyes scanning the horizon. "It's a rare gift to travel without pressure. Time feels fuller when it's measured, not counted."
Roland smiled. "Exactly. No need to race back. The farm waits for us. The crops, the animals… they'll be fine. Let's enjoy the journey."
Sol barked happily, darting to the side to chase a butterfly before returning with his tongue lolling, eyes gleaming. Roland laughed. "Even he agrees."
They stopped for breaks at gentle streams, letting Sol drink and bathe, while Brontus grazed quietly on lush patches of grass along the path. Roland pulled out a small sketchbook at one point, noting where wild herbs grew or where the soil looked particularly rich—ideas for new experiments at the farm.
"Every place has a lesson," he said thoughtfully. "Even the roads we travel. Soaking in the land, the patterns, the light… that's part of learning too."
Brontus snorted, nudging him with a horn. "You think like a farmer even on the road."
Roland grinned. "Can't help it. The land teaches everywhere."
At night, they camped under open skies. Sol curled up on a blanket Roland had spread, Brontus lying nearby, and Roland studied the stars. The rhythm of the journey became a kind of meditation: the gentle sway of Brontus' steps, the cool night air, the quiet sounds of wildlife. They moved a little each day, stopping when a glade or river beckoned, allowing both man and beast to rest fully.
Along the way, they shared stories and laughter. Roland told Brontus about some of the more amusing mishaps back at the village—the way Pine had nearly overwatered the potatoes, how Rowan had tried to imitate Farmer's Rain and gotten soaked instead, and the elder's amused commentary at their enthusiasm.
Brontus chuckled, a low rumble that shook the leaves overhead. "They're lucky to have you guiding them. And you're lucky they're eager to learn."
Roland nodded, feeling a lightness he hadn't realized he'd missed. "It's mutual. Teaching them… it reminds me why this work matters. Why farming, growing, nurturing—these things are worth every effort."
Sol barked in agreement, running ahead to sniff some wildflowers along the path.
And so they traveled, a slow, steady journey. Days passed like pages turning in a book, each one filled with quiet observation, laughter, and the simple contentment of a road shared among friends. There was no rush, no urgency—only the steady heartbeat of life moving forward, carrying Roland and his companions toward home.
The familiar outline of the farm came into view over the rolling hills, the pond glinting in the late morning sun. Brontus slowed his pace, sniffing the air, and Sol barked excitedly, darting ahead to announce their approach.
As they crested the final hill, Aeris bounded toward them, her fluffy wool bouncing with every step. Her tiny hooves kicked up little clouds of dust as she ran straight to Roland, nuzzling his chest and wrapping him in a warm, woolly hug.
"Baaah!" she bleated loudly, her voice rising in a mixture of joy and complaint. It was clear: she had missed him dearly. "You were gone too long! Where have you been?!"Roland froze mid-step, blinking down at Aeris as she leaned against him. "Did… did you just say that?" he asked, incredulous.
Aeris' fluffy ears twitched, and she let out a soft, high-pitched bleat that sounded more like a whimper. Slowly, her wide eyes lowered, and she pressed closer against Roland's chest. "Baa… uh…" she trailed off, her voice suddenly timid. She had stopped speaking altogether, hiding her face in his coat as if ashamed of having used the common tongue.
Roland raised an eyebrow, still holding her carefully. "Well… that was… unexpected."
Maphala moved closer, her deep reddish-orange eyes glinting with amusement. She nudged Aeris gently with her broad head. "She's always been tremendously shy when speaking common language," the cow remarked in her calm, measured tone. "She thinks her voice is too childish, too high and soft. Even now, less than two years old, she worries her words will be taken lightly."
Aeris peeked up at Maphala, ears flattened, and let out a small, almost embarrassed bleat. "Baa…" she whispered, not meeting anyone's gaze.
Roland chuckled softly, stroking the back of her woolly head. "You can speak if you want, Aeris. No one will make fun of you. I promise."
Maphala gave a low, approving rumble. "She'll choose when she's ready. For now… she shows it with actions, not words. And we understand her perfectly."
Roland laughed, feeling a mix of amazement and warmth. "Actions speak just fine, little one. But next time, maybe a tiny word or two isn't so bad."
Aeris nuzzled him again, still shy, but the small flicker of courage in her eyes suggested that one day she might speak freely again. Roland shook his head with a smile. Even after all this time, the farm never ceased to surprise him