“It’s okay if you didn’t win, Matt,” Clay said. “You don’t have to make up an elaborate excuse for us. We know you did your best.”

  I paused in the middle of shoveling dirt and leaned on the shovel, its blade sinking into the rich, loamy soil beneath me. It was the day after the race, and I’d completed all my farm chores for except for one: turning the fields. Lucky for me, I wasn’t alone in the chore—my sprite companions were here to keep me company as I worked. Though they never offered any actual help with the hard work, they were always more than happy to offer a slight ribbing, if only to keep me humble. “I didn’t lose. The race got interrupted.”

  The sprites exchanged skeptical, side-eyed glances.

  “Interrupted by what, exactly?” Flint asked.

  I frowned at the three of them—Flint, Holly, and Clay—who had been ‘helping’ me all morning, likely to dodge any requests to watch Lucy. Despite how much they adored her, even the sprites needed a break from her endless energy.

  “You didn’t feel it?”

  “Feel what?” Holly asked, giving me a frown of my own.

  “Eh… never mind,” I said. “Forget I said anything.”

  As strange as the recent events in Sagewood had been, I didn’t want to alarm the sprites. At least not the younger ones. I’d talk to Woods about it later. He’d have insight, or at the very least, a theory. Still, the fact that such a massive earthquake had rattled Sagewood but left the farm untouched gnawed at me. The more I tried to piece together the strange, seemingly unrelated events, the more my head ached. There was a pattern here. I just couldn’t see it yet.

  I turned my attention back to the soil in front of me, the field that needed turning before it could be sown again. The dirt was heavy and dark, still harboring the morning’s dew. The plants that had occupied the field days before were now unceremoniously shoved into my bag. They’d stay there until I found out what to do with them. I never realized how convenient it was for them to just shrivel away once their bounty was harvested.

  The sprites looked a bit annoyed at my deflection, but they knew better than to press when I didn’t want to talk about something. Without another word, I thrusted the shovel back into the dirt, resuming the mindless task of turning the soil. There was something strangely satisfying about it, the way the earth yielded to the blade, the scent of damp earth rising as I worked.

  Despite turning the soil being one of the more monotonous chores on the farm, I found comfort in its simplicity. The repetitive motion kept my hands busy but allowed my mind to wander. The sprites quickly lost interest and retreated back to the farmhouse, probably in search of Lucy or Link. I didn’t mind the solitude, though. It gave me a chance to reflect on those first few seasons in Sagewood when work like this had been exhausting and nearly unbearable. I’d come a long way since then, and the chore that once felt burdensome now felt grounding—a connection to the land I’d come to call home.

  “I heard you lost the race.”

  I jumped, nearly dropping my shovel, and turned to see Woods standing there with a smirk.

  Clearing my throat, I glanced around to make sure the other sprites were out of earshot. “It was actually a tie… Woods, something weird happened yesterday.”

  Woods narrowed his eyes. “It’s okay you didn’t win, Matt. You don’t have to make up an excuse—”

  “There was another nature event—a strange one. An earthquake. Do those usually happen in Sagewood?”

  Woods shook his head, his mouth still open from when I cut him off.

  “The tremors were so bad they opened a huge pit at the finish line. I’m going tomorrow morning to help some of the men fill it in.”

  Woods’ smirk faded, replaced by concern. I was relieved to see him taking it seriously. After a moment, he spoke again. “I’ve never heard of anything like that happening in Sagewood.” He glanced toward the cave south of my farm. “Do you think the Cave Spirit could be behind this?”

  “I thought about that too, but I doubt it. No one’s seen the Cave Spirit in years, and why would he even bother? Why disrupt a small-town horserace?”

  We both fell silent, considering the possibilities. I leaned on my shovel, my hands gripping the worn handle tightly in my palms. The dirt at my feet stretched out across the field, waiting patiently to be turned before new seeds could be planted. After a stretch of time and silence, I plunged the blade of the shovel back into the soil, feeling the satisfying crunch as it broke through the dried earth. Whatever was happening, Woods and I would figure it out. Eventually. But standing here, staring at the horizon, wouldn’t get me any closer to answers. And it certainly wouldn’t get the work done.

  So, I kept turning the field.

  The sun hung in the sky, casting a golden hue over the farm as I worked. With each thrust of the shovel, I could feel the dirt giving way beneath my feet. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead, the afternoon heat pressing down. The warmth of the day and the physical effort was a welcome distraction from the strangeness going on.

  I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my arm and focused on the task in front of me. The field was large, but I didn’t mind the long hours. After all these years, the dirt beneath my feet had become a part of me, the land itself a living, breathing thing. It felt good to care for it, to prepare it for new life. Even with my hands busy and my mind set to work, a gnawing unease refused to let go. Each shovel full of dirt landed with a dull thud, but no matter how deep I dug, my thoughts kept circling back. The explosion of growth. The restless, shifting earth. The way the land itself seemed to stir with something unnatural. I found myself growing more frustrated that I couldn’t just let my mind wander in the seemingly mindless task.

  I clenched the handle tighter. This wasn’t just strange—it was wrong. And worse, it wasn’t just my problem. Others were depending on me. The farm. The sprites. My family.

  I drove the shovel into the soil again, as if I could bury my unease beneath the weight of my work. But it lingered, just beneath the surface.

  After a while, I shook my head, pushing the thoughts away. I didn’t have answers right now, and dwelling on it wouldn’t help. All I could do was keep working, one shovelful of dirt at a time, preparing the ground for what came next. These new events brought uncertainty, but out here, in this field, things made sense. The dirt turned, the seeds were planted, and it was one thing that I had absolute control over.

  The shovel sank into the earth again, and I felt the satisfying resistance as I lifted the soil. The sun continued its slow descent, casting long shadows over the field, but I wasn’t done yet. Not until every inch of it had been turned. It was hard work, my muscles aching as I pushed forward, but in the end, it was rewarding labor.

  By the time I finished the last section, the sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky painted deep purple and orange. I stood there for a moment, leaning on the shovel, my chest rising and falling with steady breaths, and looked out across the field. It was done, and the ground was ready for planting.

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  A quiet sense of fulfillment settled over me. This land, this small patch of earth Grandpa had left me, was mine to tend. No matter what else happened, I was a farmer at heart, and this farm was my responsibility. The thought of getting the farm to level ten, and then freeing the Harvest Goddess, lingered in my mind. If I could do that, maybe all the strange occurrences would stop. Maybe, by accomplishing those two things, I could guarantee a peaceful life in Sagewood for me and my little family.

  Woods glanced from the field to me. “This field is ready for planting,” he said, “but judging by the hour, I’m guessing you’ll save that task for tomorrow?”

  I nodded, the weight of the day’s work seeping into my bones. It was late, and I was tired. Planting seeds wasn’t the hardest task, but it took time. While I did want to get the seeds into the ground—the turned field would still be there in the morning, and so would I. I could allow myself to rest. One night wouldn’t make any difference in the finished crop.

  “Yeah, tomorrow,” I said, feeling a rare calm. The field and the seeds could wait.

  Woods nodded. “I’m heading out tomorrow to visit Melvin, but I’ll only be gone for a few days.”

  Every few weeks, Woods visited Melvin, the wizard in Crimsonshores, to check on his magic levels and ensure that his corruption sickness wasn’t returning. It had become so routine that we were all used to it, and he was typically back within a few days. I hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “Do you think you could mention the strange events to him?”

  “I was planning on it,” Woods replied. “I’ll let you know if he has any insights.”

  We both turned and started toward the farmhouse, the warm light that emanated from the windows drawing us closer. I opened the door, and smoke billowed out, and Woods and I exchanged an alarmed glance.

  “Looks like Leia’s cooking again,” I muttered under my breath.

  From inside, Leia’s voice rang out, “I heard that!” She stood by the oven, waving smoke away with a dish towel.

  Reed and Holly sat at the table, completely unphased by the chaos in the kitchen.

  “Maple’s teaching Leia a new recipe,” Holly explained.

  “It’s... not going well,” Reed added, narrowly dodging a spatula Leia launched his way.

  Maple stood next to the oven, her eyes wide in concern.

  “What are you baking?” I asked leadingly.

  Leia sighed, pulling a pan from the oven. The contents—which were once croissants—were now shriveled, blackened to the point of nearly becoming charcoal. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “It was supposed to be a surprise for you,” she admitted quietly.

  A pang of guilt hit me. Lately, there had been fleeting moments between us, but I hadn’t really gone out of my way to do anything special for her. And now here she was, burning herself out—literally—trying to make my favorite treat. It stung a bit, knowing I’d let it get to this.

  “How about I take you out on a date tomorrow night?” I asked, hoping to pull her from her slump. The room went still for a moment, and I could see the sprites, especially the female ones, suddenly hanging on the moment. They looked at Leia with wide, expectant eyes, as if waiting for some grand, uncertain revelation. I had to suppress a smile.

  Leia’s lips curved upward, a bit of her usual light returning. “I think I’d like that,” she said, warmth finally creeping back into her voice.

  ***

  The next morning, Woods and I set out early, before anyone else in the house was awake. The crisp air carried the scent of damp earth and pine. We walked together for a while before splitting off near the outskirts of town. He took the north path that curved around Sagewood, bound east for Crimsonshores, while I continued straight into town.

  “See you in a few days, Matt.” Woods tossed me a smirk over his shoulder. “And enjoy your date tonight. Try not to mess it up.”

  I snorted, shaking my head, but the jab hit closer to home than I liked to admit. It was ridiculous—I was married to Leia, had been for years—but somehow, the nerves still crept in. Some irrational part of me worried that one day, she’d wake up and realize she was way out of my league. That she’d see me for what I was—just a stubborn farmer with more dirt under his nails than charm—and decide she could do better.

  Of course, she’d never do that. But that didn’t stop my stomach from twisting at the thought.

  I exhaled sharply and rolled my shoulders. Nothing a bit of hard labor wouldn’t fix.

  The early morning light cast long shadows as I walked through the sleepy streets of Sagewood, making my way toward the pit. The town had left it roped off for a day, waiting out the aftershocks, but now it was time to fill the thing in. Not the most exciting task, but I didn’t mind it. At least we’d get it done while the air was still cool.

  By the time I reached the site, a small group of men had already gathered—Titus, Axel, Magnus, and a handful of others, each with a shovel in hand. Most of them had been competitors in the race, and now they were here to undo the mess that had disrupted it.

  “Are we waiting on something?” I asked, stepping up beside Titus. Some of the men looked groggy, blinking sluggishly like they’d rather be anywhere but here. Not everyone lived on a farmer’s schedule. I, on the other hand, felt fine. Rested, even.

  “We were waiting on you, sunshine,” Axel answered, leaning on his shovel.

  “Well, I’m here now,” I said, glancing around at the others, “So let’s get to it.”

  A wagon sat nearby, the Rockborns’ family cart, its bed piled high with dirt—likely hauled in from their garden or the woods surrounding Sagewood. The plan was simple: shovel, dump, repeat.

  We got to work. The Rockborn brothers eased the wagon back as close to the pit as they dared, the wheels creaking under the weight of the loaded dirt.

  The first few shovelfuls hit the bottom of the pit with dull thuds, the sound swallowed by the depth. We worked steadily to fill the pit with dirt and rocks, slowly layering over the gaping wound in the earth.

  It was tedious labor, but the men kept things lively. Titus worked with the efficiency of a man used to swinging a hammer all day, while Axel complained loudly about how hard the work was.

  “It’s not that bad, Axel,” I offered in encouragement.

  “You shovel dirt for a living,” he grumbled. “Of course you don’t think this is bad.”

  Fair point. I rolled my shoulders back, pulling the blades together. The stretch felt good after yesterday’s work in the fields—hours of shoveling dirt had left me stiff. When I got home, I’d be planting seeds—more dirt, more shoveling. I could call myself a farmer, sure. But when it came down to it, Axel was right. I did shovel dirt for a living.

  Magnus, true to form, didn’t say much, just worked with a quiet intensity, muscles flexing under his shirt as he drove his shovel into the earth.

  At one point, someone—not naming names, but it was definitely Axel—’lost their grip’ and sent a clump of dirt flying in my direction. It hit my boot with a dull thud.

  I eyed him. He grinned, all innocence. I let it slide. For now.

  Little did he know, I’d spent the past few years perfecting the fine art of mudslinging during the sprites’ birthday celebrations. Eight times a year, like clockwork. My aim? Impeccable. My instincts? Sharpened by countless surprise attacks.

  Axel was trying to start a dirt fight with a master—and the poor fool didn’t even realize it. I could end him with a single well-aimed toss. It would be too easy.

  Lucky for him, I didn’t have to retaliate. Magnus, who had seen the whole thing from where he stood on the wagon, hefted his shovel high and tipped its contents right over his unsuspecting brother.

  The shovelful of dirt landed with a satisfying thump, leaving bits clinging to Axel’s sweaty, flabbergasted face.

  The dwarf blinked, stunned, then turned to his brother with slow, dawning betrayal. “You did not just—”

  “Sorry ‘bout that,” Magnus interrupted, sounding utterly unapologetic. “Didn’t see you there.”

  Axel gaped at him, caught between outrage and disbelief, “Have you gone blind, Magnus? I was standing right here.”

  Magnus only shrugged, then shot a glance at me as if to say, There. Now you’re even.

  I gave him a slight nod, the corner of my mouth turning up into a hidden smile. Maybe years of old grudges and rivalry really had been buried with one horse race. I wasn’t about to complain. I’d fill in a thousand pits if it meant peace with my in-laws.

  As the sun climbed higher, the wagon’s load of dirt dwindled. The pit absorbed each shovelful, shrinking from the bottom up, its depths slowly rising to ground level. By the time we neared the end, sweat clung to our backs, and the once-gaping hole was reduced to nothing more than an uneven patch of fresh earth. It wasn’t perfect, but it was stable. It still was an eyesore, but now we wouldn’t have to worry about anyone falling into it and getting hurt.

  I drove my shovel into the ground one last time, wiping my forehead with the back of my sleeve.

  “One pit, successfully un-pitted,” Titus announced, dusting off his hands.

  Axel sighed dramatically. “Well, that was a fun way to spend a morning. Same time tomorrow lads?”

  I shook my head, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Let’s not make a habit of this.”

  With the job done, the men started packing up, tossing their shovels into wagons and dusting off their clothes. The town could rest easy knowing the earth was back where it belonged—at least for now.

  But as I glanced at the freshly filled pit, a thought nagged at the back of my mind. The earthquake had been strange, and the circumstances of it still didn’t sit right with me.

  After a few minutes, I pushed the thought aside. There’d be time to worry about that later. For now, I had more pressing matters—namely, getting back to my day job of shoveling dirt. I’d have to work twice as fast if I was going to get every needed thing done before my date tonight.