Evening Rest
When they entered the house, Maribel's eyes immediately landed on Aeris, the fluffy white sheep lying by the hearth.
"Oh my stars," she whispered, her eyes sparkling. "That wool—so soft and radiant! I've never seen anything like it."
Roland's expression turned firm. "Her wool's not for sale. She's family."
He knelt, hugging Aeris gently and kissing her forehead.
"R-Roland, stop!" Aeris bleated softly, her cheeks pink beneath her wool. "Not in front of the guest…"
Maribel nearly dropped her cloak. "It talks too?!"
Roland chuckled. "They all do, more or less."
Maribel shook her head with a smile. "You really are full of surprises, farmer." She crouched and offered a polite nod. "It's lovely to meet you, Aeris."
Aeris peeked out shyly from behind Roland. "N-nice to meet you too…"
Roland laid out a resting spot for Maribel—a thick layer of Aeris's sheared wool and warm blankets. When she sat down, her eyes widened in astonishment.
"This is… softer than any bed I've had in months."
Roland grinned. "Told you she's family her wool isn'tfor sale."
Claribel pouted but understood.
They chatted quietly into the evening about travels, trade, and the lonely peace of living on the frontier until fatigue finally took them both.
As the fire dimmed, Sol curled near the door, keeping quiet watch, his tail twitching in his dreams.
Claribel sat cross-legged on the wool mat Roland had laid out for her, her cloak folded neatly at her side. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, its orange glow painting the room in shades of amber and gold. Outside, the widnwas gentle and the rain was starting off soft and gentle the rhythmic tapping against the roof was pleasant.
"You'd get along well with the villages south of here," Claribel murmured. "They've been struggling lately. The harvest was poor, and many are rationing what little food they have. Even the elves are cutting back. Some of the smaller human hamlets have taken to trading old heirlooms for sacks of grain."
Roland's smile faded.
"Food shortages?"
Claribel nodded grimly. "The weather's been strange. Too much dry wind in early spring, and then sudden cold snaps. Half the crops never took root."
Roland looked into the fire, his brows knitting together. "People going hungry…" His tone was low, pained. He tapped his bracelet absently. "I can't stand the thought of that. But I can't just up and travel around with carts of food. The farm needs tending."
Claribel tilted her head. "Then perhaps I can help with that."
He looked up, curious.
"I make rounds between the nearby towns — bring salt, tools, cloth, medicine, that sort of thing. I could add your goods to my route." She smiled, the firelight glinting off her eyes. "I'd sell them fairly and bring back anything you might need. In exchange, you keep my donkeys and me fed when we stop by."
Roland chuckled. "You make it sound too simple."
"Simple's how good trade starts," Claribel replied. "A fair deal and a full belly."
Roland leaned back, thinking. "If you can take my crops and sell them to those who need them, that works for me. In return, I could use… clay pots, cups, maybe some linens for bedding. Even a few bits of leather if you can find quality ones."
Claribel's eyebrows lifted. "Planning to upgrade your home, farmer?"
"Planning to stop drinking out of carved wooden cups that splinter," Roland said dryly, and she burst out laughing.
"Fair enough!" she said, still chuckling. "I can manage that. Oh — and I know a breeder who keeps Windfeather hens. Not quite magical, but they lay twice as often as normal chickens. Interested?"
Roland's face lit up. "Eggs every day?"
"Sometimes twice a day, if they're well-fed and happy."
He grinned. "Then yes. Let's add a few of those to the list. Maybe one day, Brontus will have his own saddle too — something padded enough that we can travel farther together without wearing him out."
At the mention of his name, Brontus' deep voice rumbled from outside the open window. "I'd prefer comfort over vanity, thank you," he called lazily, his horns glimmering faintly in the dim light.
Claribel jumped slightly, then laughed. "He's listening in?"
Roland smirked. "Always. He pretends he's dozing, but his ears work better than most people's eyes."
Outside, Maphala's gentle hum joined the night air. "He only listens when the conversation mentions food."
Everyone chuckled softly.
Claribel leaned closer, lowering her voice. "You've got something rare here, Roland. A farm that feels alive — and people who care about each other. I'd be honored to help you share that."
Roland's gaze softened, his eyes reflecting the flickering firelight. "Then it's a deal."
They sealed it with a handshake — warm, steady, and genuine.
The rain finally stopped, replaced by the distant chirping of night crickets. Claribel wrapped herself in one of Roland's soft wool blankets, sinking into the warmth of the floor mat.
"It's… far more comfortable than most inns," she admitted, voice muffled with sleep. "You might just spoil me, farmer."
Roland smiled as he banked the fire. "Get some rest, Claribel. Tomorrow, we'll pack your cart with enough food to bring smiles to the hungry."
Sol snored softly near the hearth, his paws twitching as if chasing something in his dreams. Aeris lay curled nearby, her fluffy wool glowing faintly in the firelight.
As Roland looked around at his home — the crackling warmth, the steady breaths of his companions, the faint glow of Verdalis through the window — he felt a quiet certainty settle over him.
Tomorrow, his farm would feed more than just his family. They would start their journey to feed the world.