Noah sat down on the black-gold soil of his farm with the hoe across his knees, and he let himself ignore everything that was not the field in front of him. Far off across the snowing sky, the Immense Ones he had dismissed were still sitting on their illusory mountain with their eyes closed, healing, and at the edges of the farm, the weak Nightmares from the broken door had crept away to hide in the soft grey gaps where the Fallow was still slowly spreading.
None of that mattered right now, because in front of him were fifteen green shoots in a straight row, and he wanted to see what they would become.
