The land before him was raw and unforgiving. Last season, Billy Bob had worked the existing fields near Runeheim, learning the rhythm of the soil. Now he was breaking new ground, rough, uneven, and untamed – forging new fields in Near Fjarhus.

The regulars were already at it – clearing rocks, digging into the hard earth. As always, they all worked in near silence. Billy Bob worked to match their pace, but he still felt sluggish and uncoordinated compared to them, still unfamiliar with this northern soil. As he dug with his shovel, he couldn’t help but feel like the rocky land resented being disturbed. He pushed on, trying to make headway, excavating the large stones barely hidden under the soon to be christened fields.

He wondered about what else they could grow in this soil, thinking of some of the rich turnips he’d grown in his family’s fields, or the simple herbs they had managed to add in around the edges of the plots to add a little something extra to the stew. Would those grow here? Should he ask the Porters to see if they can get some sent up? He picked up a handful of the dirt and stared at it, trying to see if he could tell just from looking at it which he could grow. He couldn’t. He went back to his shoveling while thinking about what herbs to try to get delivered.

As the morning wore into the afternoon, Billy Bob’s arms ached, but the land was starting to slowly feel less foreign. Even if the others didn’t speak much, he didn’t feel unwelcome. Though the earth still resisted every press of his shovel, he felt a little more connected to it. The land was rougher, harder to tame… but maybe that was the point. With time, he would learn how to make it his own.