The sun was gentle that morning, warm without harshness, as Claribel guided the wagon down a winding road lined with dew-kissed grass. The air smelled faintly of wildflowers, and the creak of wooden wheels mixed with the rhythmic clop of hooves.
Keith and Sarah pulled the wagon with ease, their steps fluid, every movement exuding strength. Keith's dark brown coat gleamed like polished bronze, and Sarah's pale mane shimmered with golden streaks. Their muscles were toned, their eyes sharp — faint traces of the divine covenant mark shimmering beneath their fur.
"You two look like you've been eating sunlight," Claribel said with a playful smile from the driver's seat.
Sarah flicked her tail and giggled. "I feel like it! My legs barely tire anymore."
Keith nodded, quiet pride in his gaze. "It's strange… it's as if the road itself helps us move. The covenant mark hums every time we pass a village."
Claribel touched the pine-shaped brand on her hand. "The gods must be pleased. You've both grown stronger — I can feel it. You're on the edge of becoming Tier 3."
Keith let out a soft laugh. "Maybe Roland's potatoes weren't just food after all."
Sarah added with a bright snort, "Blessed potatoes, blessed bellies!"
Claribel laughed, and by noon, the path sloped down to reveal the third village — a larger settlement at the base of a pine-covered ridge. Smoke spiraled from chimneys, the scent of bread and herbs drifting through the air. Wooden fences enclosed neat rows of houses, and villagers waved from open doorways.
Unlike the previous villages, this one exuded scholarly calm. Many carried scrolls, quills, and books alongside tools, and a few wore glasses or intricately dyed hats. Their speech had practiced elegance.
A Ramfolk elder, white-woolled and wearing round spectacles perched on his snout, stepped forward first. "Ah, greetings, merchant traveler! You arrive with wares of sustenance, I presume?"
Claribel chuckled softly. "Food, yes — potatoes. Grown by a friend of mine, blessed by the gods themselves."
A sleek gray catfolk named Whisperpaw slinked forward, eyes sparkling. "Mmm… the scent of comfort. It prowls on the air like a soft memory. You've brought kindness, haven't you?"
A trio of dogfolk approached, upright and strong. Barktooth, a short-haired hound-man, sniffed the wagon and nodded. "Good smell. Real food. Hungry folks here. You help. We trade."
Claribel smiled. "Simple and fair. That's all I ask."
Elder Woolsey led her through the village square. Carved posts lined the square, murals depicting the village's history painted in natural dyes. "We've survived better than most," he said, voice refined, "but shortages creep upon us. Your arrival is timely. The young ones whispered of empty stores just yesterday."
Claribel uncovered a sack. The villagers gasped softly. "Roland's potatoes," she said reverently. "They're not ordinary. They bring strength — health. You'll feel it after your first meal."
The catfolk purred. "Strength wrapped in warmth. Hope boiled in a pot."
The dogfolk barked. "Hope is good. Food is better. We thank you."
The afternoon passed in a blur of trade, laughter, and learning. Claribel distributed sacks of potatoes, recording trades meticulously. In exchange, she received Merino wool, clay mugs, parchment, and a few polished copper and bone trinkets.
Villagers introduced themselves:
Elder Woolsey – Ramfolk, wise and eloquent, keeps village records and history.
Whisperpaw – Catfolk healer, graceful, precise, poetic in speech.
Barktooth – Dogfolk hunter, blunt, reliable, keeps village security.
Lambkin – young Ramfolk child, curious, playful, helps in minor chores.
Pawline – Catfolk scholar, soft-spoken, keeps medicinal knowledge and books.
Fangtail – Dogfolk worker, strong, practical, manages village construction.
Fleecespring – Ramfolk farmer, gentle, guides planting and crop rotation.
Mistralwhisk – Catfolk herbalist, intuitive, teaches children and makes salves.
Ruffbark – Dogfolk hunter, swift, scouts nearby forests for danger or food.
Claribel watched as the villagers put the potatoes to use. Elder Woolsey demonstrated proper storage techniques, while Fleecespring examined each potato for quality, nodding in approval at the divine nature of the crop. The catfolk gently chopped herbs to mix into a stew, murmuring appreciation for the natural magic in the food.
Keith and Sarah stood beside Claribel, quietly observing. Keith's tail swished, ears flicking. "Everywhere we go, the light of the covenant spreads."
Sarah's fur glimmered faintly in the sunlight. "It's like carrying Roland's warmth with us. I can feel it pulsing through the villages."
The villagers marveled at the potatoes' effects. Ramfolk children grew more energetic, dogfolk hunters felt stronger and faster, catfolk scholars more alert and capable of focus. The blessings spread subtly, making everyone healthier, happier, and more cooperative.
When night fell, fires burned bright. Sheep-children danced in playful loops, dogfolk shared bread, and catfolk lounged elegantly near the flames, purring contentedly. Keith and Sarah nuzzled Claribel in gratitude, their tails swishing.
Claribel touched the faintly glowing pine mark on her hand. "This warmth… it's carrying all of us forward," she said softly.
That night, as she lay on her bedroll near the wagon, she listened to the gentle murmurs of thanks and appreciation from the villagers. The covenant mark tingled softly, and her dreams were filled with visions of Roland's fields — endless green, alive, vibrant, and abundant.
Deep in her heart, she knew: this was only the beginning.