The next morning dawned soft and golden, mist curling around the edges of the river and drifting lazily across the fields. Ronald stretched as he stepped outside, the smell of tilled earth and dew greeting him like an old friend. His cabin was taking shape beautifully — sturdy beams interlocked with perfect joinery, the scent of fresh-cut wood mixing with the sweetness of soil and early blooms.
The maple-colored cow and bull, Maphala and Brontus, grazed lazily near the new cornfield. Maphala's reddish-orange leaf mane shimmered faintly in the sunlight, while Brontus stood watchfully, his wooden horns catching light like polished amber.
Ronald checked the carrots first, their tiny green sprouts poking up in neat rows. Then the corn — slower, but strong. The air around the field seemed rich, almost humming with quiet life.
"Two weeks to harvest," Ronald said softly, smiling. "And you're all lookin' healthy. Keep it up."
He took a long sip from his waterskin, wiping sweat from his brow. He was about to start reinforcing the cabin walls when he heard a faint rustling near the river.
At first, he thought it was just the wind, but then something small and curious waddled into view. It was a squirrel, but not like any normal one — its fur rippled like flowing water, and tiny droplets clung to its tail, trailing behind it like dew.
It stopped when it saw him, head tilted, eyes the color of river glass.
"Well hey there, little one," Ronald said softly, crouching. "You lost?"
The water-squirrel blinked, then scampered closer, sniffing his hand. It was damp but cool, leaving little glistening prints on the soil. Maphala mooed gently from behind, unbothered.
Ronald chuckled. "Guess I smell like the river after all."
The creature made a high-pitched chittering sound and then—shockingly—sprayed him with a playful spout of water from its tail. Ronald sputtered, half laughing, half startled.
"Oh, you're a cheeky one!" he said, wiping his face. "Fine, you win."
It chittered again, sounding remarkably pleased with itself, before scampering toward the shade near his cabin — apparently deciding this farm was now home.
---
Later that afternoon, as Ronald mended a wall frame, another visitor arrived. A strange fish-like creature flopped onto the bank from the river — a shimmering blue-green body with fins that looked half like leaves. It blinked large eyes and then took a step — a step — onto land, where tiny vines unfurled from its fins to support it.
Maphala sniffed it curiously. Brontus gave a low, amused rumble.
Ronald laughed softly. "And who might you be? River sending me tenants now?"
The fish-creature made a burbling sound, then hopped closer, nudging a fallen carrot sprout. It let out a tiny coo and began tending to it, sprinkling droplets of water over the soil.
"…You're helping?" Ronald asked, surprised. "Well, can't complain about that kind of company."
---
That evening, as the sun sank, a final visitor appeared — a golden-furred dog, its tail wagging lazily, eyes warm like midsummer sunlight. When Ronald met its gaze, he felt a wave of calm wash over him, the kind that melts away worry.
It padded close, sniffed his boots, and then leaned against his leg.
"Ah, I see. You're the type that doesn't ask — you just move in," Ronald said, scratching its head. The dog barked softly, the sound oddly musical.
Brontus snorted in approval. "A good guardian," the bull rumbled, his voice low but kind. "The field spirits favor you, young farmer. These creatures come because they sense peace."
Ronald smiled faintly, looking at his mismatched little family — the maple cow and bull, the water-squirrel, the leaf-finned fish resting by the pond, and the sunlit dog at his feet.
"Guess this place is startin' to feel alive," he said softly.
As the fire crackled and the stars shimmered overhead, the farm felt warm — not just from the hearth, but from something deeper. Verdantia was watching, growing, breathing — and so was he.
The next morning came with the hush of dawn mist rolling low over the fields. A soft golden light spilled through the cabin's open window, the smell of damp earth and green shoots drifting in. Ronald stretched, joints popping, and rubbed his eyes.
"Another good day to get somethin' done," he murmured, stepping outside.
Maphala and Brontus were already up. The maple cow grazed near the riverbank while the bull stood nearby, watching the horizon like a quiet sentinel. The air shimmered faintly around them — the mark of beings touched by divinity.
The golden dog padded beside Ronald as he walked to his fields, tail swaying like a slow pendulum. The water-squirrel darted up his shoulder, chittering happily, while the leaf-finned fish peeked from the new pond he had dug the day before.
Ronald smiled. "Alright everyone, let's make this place a little better for ya."
He walked toward a low spot of land near the river and began digging. His bracelet shifted shape — the metal rippled like liquid light before solidifying into a spade, perfectly balanced, gleaming faintly with faint greenish veins like living roots.
Each thrust into the soil was smooth, effortless. His stamina didn't waver, but his movements grew more precise as his Carpentry and Farming Comprehension quietly improved in the background.
The cow and bull watched for a moment before deciding to help. Maphala's leaf-like mane fluttered, and the ground softened beneath Ronald's shovel — easier to move. Brontus lowered his wooden horns and pushed great scoops of dirt aside.
"Thanks, big guy," Ronald said with a grin.
"Partnership," Brontus rumbled simply.
When the pit was deep enough, the leaf-finned fish began gurgling happily, sending little waves of water into the hollow. The water rose quickly, clear and glittering. Ronald stepped back, admiring the new pond, already alive with ripples.
"That's your new home, buddy," he said, nodding to the fish. It swam in a tight circle and let out a happy chirp.
---
After that, Ronald turned to another task — a shelter for his growing group of companions. Using timber from nearby trees and the same careful joinery he'd learned from those old internet videos, he began crafting stalls and cozy corners under a shaded roof beside the cabin.
The golden dog fetched stray pieces of wood, tail wagging like it was all a game. The water-squirrel helped by soaking the bark to make it easier to strip. Maphala flattened the ground with her broad hooves, and Brontus lifted logs with gentle precision.
By midday, the small shelter stood firm and smooth — not just a barn, but a home.
---
Ronald was admiring his work when a soft bleat interrupted the quiet.
He turned. Standing at the edge of his carrot field was a sheep, its wool shimmering like sunlight through clouds. Each tuft looked impossibly soft, weightless, and faintly glowing. When it moved, the air stirred gently, as if the breeze followed it.
"Well now…" Ronald said with a chuckle. "Didn't expect visitors this early."
The sheep blinked, then took a slow, delicate step forward — nose twitching. It was staring straight at the carrot patch.
"You want one of those, huh?" Ronald asked. He used his farming magic to accelerate the growth of a carrot and plucked a carrot from the soil and held it out.
The sheep trotted closer, sniffed once, and then chomped it down with surprising enthusiasm.
Maphala let out an amused "moo," while Brontus gave a low, approving hum. The dog barked once, tail wagging.
Ronald scratched his chin. "You're somethin' else. Airy coat, calm eyes, and a nose for carrots. You part of the field's blessing too?"
The sheep tilted its head and bleated again — the sound light and musical, like wind chimes. A gentle gust swirled around Ronald, rustling his hair and the crops behind him.
He laughed. "Alright, I'll take that as a yes."
The sheep followed him all afternoon, occasionally nibbling on weeds but leaving the crops untouched. When the wind blew, its wool shimmered like clouds drifting across a blue sky.
By sunset, the farm looked alive in every sense — the pond glimmered, the fields swayed, and laughter echoed softly across the land.
Ronald sat by the fire pit as the golden dog curled by his feet, the water-squirrel nested in his sleeve, and the new sheep slept beside Maphala.
He smiled at the gentle hum of life around him.
"I guess this place really is startin' to feel like home," he said quietly. "The family is getting bigger."he thought to himself.
Above him, the stars blinked softly, like watching eyes — perhaps the gods of Verdantia smiling at their young farmer, whose quiet hands were already sowing peace into their world.