The fires of the third village crackled as Claribel watched the villagers marvel at the potatoes she had brought. Keith and Sarah stood calmly by the wagon, their fur subtly gleaming in the firelight, tails twitching gently as children approached them with wide eyes.
The sheep-children were the first to shyly approach Sarah, who lowered her head so the little hands could pat her soft mane. "She's so warm… and soft!" one lamb-child squeaked, her wool brushing against Sarah's mane.
Keith nudged a small Ramfolk child gently with his muzzle, eliciting a delighted laugh. "He's even bigger than I imagined," the boy said. "And his fur smells nice!"
Sarah chuckled softly, flicking her tail. The children giggled as they stroked her mane and ruffled Keith's coat. Claribel smiled, seeing the bond growing between the animals and the village youth.
Meanwhile, the catfolk gathered near the fires, sharing short, lyrical poems in celebration of the day's blessing. Whisperpaw recited in her soft, purring tone:
"Blessings bloom in soil and sun,
Where hands and hearts both toil as one.
The gift of earth, of life, of rain,
Brings hope anew, and ends the pain."
Pawline added in her melodic voice:
"Potatoes baked and herbs combined,
A taste of care for all mankind.
Strength in belly, joy in heart,
From humble roots, great deeds will start."
The dogfolk, ever practical, clapped and barked in appreciation. "Enough poetry," Barktooth said with a grin. "Now let's carry some of these sacks to the shed."
With that, the dogfolk began loading potatoes into the shed, their strong backs and careful paws moving quickly and efficiently. Each sack was placed precisely, ensuring the shed was properly organized.
The sheepfolk, meanwhile, gathered around Claribel, murmuring in gratitude. Elder Woolsey adjusted his spectacles and spoke carefully, "Claribel, your generosity reaches beyond mere food. You bring hope and strength. We are grateful not just for sustenance, but for the blessing of your care."
Claribel smiled warmly. "It's my pleasure. Roland grows these potatoes for people to thrive. I'm just the one delivering them."
The sheepfolk nodded, then unrolled a simple parchment on a nearby table. Fleecespring dipped a quill into ink and began carefully signing a trade contract, followed by Elder Woolsey. "We agree to trade surplus wool, crafted clay cups, parchment, and minor herbal remedies in exchange for the potatoes you provide. And to maintain fairness, we will document quantities monthly."
Claribel signed her name with a flourish, and the contract was complete. "This will be permanent," she said softly. "As long as Roland keeps growing these potatoes, we'll keep trading."
The villagers beamed, and the children scampered back to Keith and Sarah, laughing as they hugged the donkeys' legs. One child whispered to Sarah, "Can we call you Auntie Sarah?"
Sarah lowered her head, letting the child nuzzle her mane. "Only if you promise to help others as well," she said gently, her voice carrying the softest hum of magic.
Claribel chuckled, shaking her head. "I think you've got an army of helpers now," she said, watching the mix of sheep, dogfolk, and catfolk interact with Keith and Sarah.
As the evening deepened, Claribel walked around the village, making notes for future trade and ensuring each sack of potatoes was safely stored. Whisperpaw and Pawline presented freshly baked bread and herb teas for the traveling party. Elder Woolsey recited another short poem in honor of the evening:
"A wagon rolls with gifts in kind,
The gentle hearts of humankind.
Blessed be those who share and sow,
From humble seed, great blessings grow."
The children recited their own small rhymes, inspired by the poems of the elders, giggling as they repeated lines about "magic potatoes" and "blessed donkeys," their laughter carrying through the village.
Keith and Sarah nuzzled each child in turn, letting them feel the warmth and strength of the covenant flowing through them. Even Claribel noticed how much stronger and brighter the animals appeared, their fur subtly shining as if on the verge of ascending to Tier 3.
By nightfall, the wagon was fully loaded, the contract signed, and the villagers' bellies and hearts full. Claribel stood beside Keith and Sarah, gazing at the stars overhead. "Tomorrow," she said softly, "we continue to spread food and hope. These villages won't go hungry while Roland grows potatoes like these."
Keith's ears flicked, and Sarah's tail swished contentedly. They seemed to understand the weight of the mission, their eyes reflecting gratitude and determination.
And in the quiet of the third village, the pine mark on Claribel's hand pulsed softly, reminding her that the covenant, the blessings, and the bonds they had formed were only the beginning of something much greater.