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You Spring Anew
Sweetwater was all Hayden had ever known; the crows of roosters, the clucks of chickens, the moos of cows, and the nickers of horses all enveloped him in a soothing symphony only he can decipher. The crescendo of such a performance was notably approaching, and he knew their animals were getting restless for breakfast.
He couldn’t help but let out a boisterous laugh. How impatient and haughty were their animals, almost taking after the fiery character of his grandmother: proud with clear reason, yet never losing space for kindness.
Unlatching the top buttons of his flannel shirt with one hand, he trudged towards the barns, a large sack of animal feed slumped over his broad shoulder. Ah, if he kept at it, he might already develop chronic body aches before he reaches his thirties.
Still, he would gladly take on all the farm’s responsibilities in his youth, if it means his grandmother can dutifully follow doctor’s orders and remain on her bed without croaking out a lighthearted complaint every other minute.
Yeah, Hayden definitely sees where the animals get their personalities.
Passing through the large barn doors with chipping red paint, Hayden felt his smile falter. His grandmother, Greta, had been quite ill for a while now. She’d vehemently deny it, smiling so brightly that Hayden could have been convinced, had he not heard her unrelenting coughs and wretches in the middle of the night.
“I’m just aging, Haydey!” The mirth of his grandmother was palpable in her comforting words, all her love wrapping around the nickname she’d called him for as long as he could remember. In turn, Hayden would only mirror a fraction of his grandmother’s cheerfulness. He wasn’t so optimistic that this was just a passing ailment, but he pretended for a while… for the two of them.
After all, his grandmother was the only family he had ever known.
As far as Hayden knows, he didn't even have parents! Well, his grandmother never mentioned them, so Hayden hardly felt the need to ask. After all, he had her and their big family of wonderful animals. What more could he ask for?
The last few remnants of feed were shaken out of the empty sack. With a huff, Hayden wiped beads of sweat off of his temples. It was getting quite stuffy in the barn, the heat of the sun radiating into his bare bones, unforgiving and without pause.
Hayden just needed to water the plants and fix some loose fences before heading back inside to check on his grandmother, and –
Oh, gods.
Hayden felt his heart lurch at the familiar sound of wretches, coughs, and gasps. It was an eerie cacophony, greatly contrasting the earlier melodies of the animals crying playfully for their meals. This sound – this terrifying, dastardly noise – felt like a curse that slithered through every crevice of their home. It was always in Hayden’s periphery, taunting him and cackling at his growing sorrow.
“Grandma!” Hayden sprinted as fast as his long legs could allow him, crashing his full weight through the barn doors, then their own home’s. He rushed towards her room with a tunnel vision that couldn’t be wavered by anything else. On the bed, Greta sat in an awkward position, as if her body felt a restlessness that wouldn’t grant her relief in any angle. She looked like she was balling into a cocoon, shoulders jolting with each cough that escaped her frail figure. His grandma used to seem so strong all the time, donning a posture of confidence and a wide smile of security, but Hayden could only see the ghost of that version of her.
The sight horrified him to his very core, but he put on the bravest expression he could muster – the one he used to convince her he was fine after painful tumbles during his childhood, all smiles and no tears. It never worked.
“Grandma, are you okay? Should I get Valen’s dad?”
Coughs and more coughs; each one an added weight to Hayden’s burdened heart. Greta was stubborn, however, and was defiant even against her own illness.
“No, Haydey –” Another heavy gulp. “I’m fine. Grandma’s fine.”
The supposed reassurance only infuriated Hayden; he shook his head quickly. “No, you’re not. You haven’t been fine for weeks. Please…” Hayden bit his tongue to distract himself from the tears blurring his vision.
“Please stop lying.” His plea came out like a sigh, tired and sorrowful, wanting nothing more but to stop running away from the ugly truth that plagued their family: Greta was dying. His grandma was gonna leave him.
He’ll be all alone.
As if the gods mercied them for a moment, Greta’s unrelenting hacking coughs eased, until all they were left with was silence and an overbearing weight that threatened the warmth of their home.
“Oh, Hayden, c’mere…” Greta weakly raised her arms, beckoning her grandson into an embrace they both hoped would soften the fear and sadness that clung onto them like a stubborn stain after a busy day.
“You’re right, Haydey,” Greta rubbed her wrinkled hands on Hayden’s trembling back. She closed her eyes in admission. “It’s time for me to go soon.”
Somehow, the simple yet painful truth was enough to make Hayden’s protective walls crumble to dust. He made no sounds, but he felt his entire body heave in anticipatory grief. He couldn’t shoo away his tears, and what for? His grandma was still there – heck, he was holding onto her, crying into her shoulder in a way he hadn’t done since he was a toddler with big feelings he couldn’t control.
It felt like he was a child again, shamelessly weeping to his loving, fantastic grandmother… one last time. This time, he was no longer a small child that could be carried by her once strong arms; he knew that, soon, her calming presence, joyful cackles, and patient smiles would soon dissipate, until all he was left with were memories. He only let go after realizing his grandma needed to rest for the day, tiredly falling into an agitated sleep. He’ll ask for more relieving tonics from the doctor later; at least, he could help make it easier for her.
With that, the days merged together – feed the animals, pet the animals, (feed himself if he remembered), water the crops, harvest the crops. An odd sense of comfort was gained from such redundant tasks, busying his mind from the inevitable pain that would bulldoze their home.
Then, one day, Hayden no longer heard strained sounds, painful coughs, and short breaths. On that one, gloomy fall day, Hayden kneeled at the side of Greta’s bed and wept in silence for her extinguished flame.
On that day, Hayden had never felt so alone.
In the Scorching Summer
Putting on a smile is almost habitual for Hayden.
He managed to plaster on a small grin to reassure the townsfolk as they joined him in his procession into the Deep Woods, grave stone in hand. Errol was right behind him, concern glazed over his sad eyes. Losing Greta was painful for everyone; no one would have known on the day of her passing, had Errol not visited to offer some company.
He was the only one who saw Hayden’s state – crumbling, weak, truly vulnerable. It was the first and last time Hayden would allow himself to appear so fragile in front of others who relied on him. Hayden was the only farmer now; he was the only one who could supply food for the inn and ensure that the townsfolk were fed.
When Errol put a firm hand on his shoulder, Hayden only looked up at him from his seat, adorning a strained smile despite the sting in his eyes, and said, “It’ll be okay.”
It was reassurance directed at himself, for Hayden was adamant in returning to a routine that would allow him to be productive and distracted simultaneously. He didn’t want to join the grieving groups that shared stories of how wonderful Greta was. He already knew she was amazing – she was his grandma! All he needed to do was bury her, honor her memory, and carry on her strength to feed the town.
He couldn’t ever be weak.
So, he did just that.
The sapling was planted and the gravestone was set. Throughout the seasons, it would bloom into a conifer tree that was only a fraction of Greta’s strength and glory. Facing the somber audience, Hayden thanked the community for paying their condolences, a soft smile still etched on his tired face, and left for Sweetwater Farm.
It was a silent walk, and Hayden felt like a puppet on strings, his puppetmaster’s grip loose and dispirited. Instead of his usual route through the Narrows, he opted to pass by Mistgrove, the overgrown forest left untouched for ages. As he carefully dragged his feet over loose stones and fallen branches, Hayden felt an unusual urge to clear out a small patch in front of an abandoned cottage facing the dense woodland.
As if his imaginary puppetmaster gained vigor, Hayden felt almost enchanted into his newfound task. Not caring if dirt would go under his fingernails or if sweat dampened the newer clothes he wore to his grandma’s funeral, he bent his knees and started pulling out troublesome weeds.
The afternoon sun tucked itself into the mountains and welcomed dusk once Hayden felt satisfied enough to fully stand up and peruse his work. Hazardous stones that were initially jutting out of the ground were thrown into a pile by the porch, and branches were piled neatly beside it. The clearing was weed-free and ready for seeds to graze its grounds.
But, Hayden knew no one was coming for this land for a long while.
After all, Sweetwater was all Mistria needed to survive.
Regardless, cleaning a patch of the overgrown fields made him feel a tad bit better, and Hayden allowed himself to smile genuinely for a moment, before his expression turned crestfallen once more.
Perhaps, he was stalling, for he knew it would be the first day he’d come home to a place without his grandmother – his one and only family. It terrified him, making him reluctant to return to their home and find it void of the warmth he’d grown to cherish. But, all he needed to remember were the cries of his hungry animals, and Hayden was able to push his hollow body back to his farm.
Palms clammy and uncharacteristically cold, Hayden twisted the knob of their front door, expecting nothing but deafening silence, but he was greeted by gentle coos.
“Cluck, cluck.”
Behind the door stood a little hen, who Hayden instantly recognized. It was the newest member of the Featherbottom lineage, Henrietta Jubilation Featherbottom. She was one of the last chicks he and his grandmother were able to hatch together, many weeks ago.
“How did you get in here, Henrietta?” Hayden bent down to scoop up the cheeky hen into his arms, stepping towards the couch to warm up by the fire. “I could have sworn I locked the door.”
Henrietta raised her head and clucked once, as if proudly implying that no doors, locked or unlocked, could stop her from entering the abode. Hayden felt like she could understand him, the clever little chicken she was, and let out a deep chuckle coated in melancholy.
“That’s a Featherbottom for you! You’re a smart girl, huh?” Hayden nestled his face into her feathers, feeling his smile drop against them. “Grandma doesn’t normally allow any animals in the house, but… Grandma’s not here anymore…”
Hayden trailed off, shoulders slumping against the plush cushions on his back. Henrietta stayed on his lap, titling her head in solidarity. It felt like Henrietta was attempting to share his grief the best she can, and Hayden felt his heart twist in appreciation.
He gently rubbed her beak with his finger, eyes feeling heavier as his exhaustion beckoned him to sleep. “You can be an exception, Henrietta…” He yawned, head lulling backwards. Henrietta ruffled her feathers in agreement, abandoning Hayden’s lap to take space next to him on the couch.
“After all…” Hayden’s eyes fully closed as darkness and a new sort of warmth blanketed his figure. “Grandma wouldn’t want me to be lonely…”
Towards You, I Will Fall
A few years had passed since Hayden took over Sweetwater as the sole farmer. He felt pride for his routine, actively recalling the efficient ways of his grandmother, in order to get everything done just before breakfast! He’d wake up early and feed Henrietta and the others, water his crops, and fix some hinges here and there.
He’d be done just before dinner, when he could march towards the inn and eat a big meal he’d share with his friends. They’d drink hot toddies and talk about the latest happenings around Mistria; truthfully, Hayden tended to zone out when gossip started becoming rampant, but he’d still manage to grin and nod at the jubilant faces of his friends.
His house didn’t always feel so empty either. Henrietta and his animals were good company, and he often hosted dinner parties for various people. Of course, Errol was always going to be a regular face. Then, he began welcoming Terithia and Landen. Then, this traveling merchant (who seemed to hate hugs) named Balor also became a reliable friend he’d talk to over hot toddies. Heck, Hayden even invited the younger men of Mistria: March, Olric, and Ryis – just to grasp at any liveliness he could get.
Did Hayden feel a bit greedy? Maybe. But, his grandmother always taught him to be a generous, giving man, so he’d give his all to everyone, even if the rainy days made his body ache uncomfortably – even if some days felt heavier, lonelier.
This was still a routine Hayden could settle into; this was a life Hayden could be satisfied with. He’d attempt to convince himself every single day of his life, if he had to.
It will all be okay.
And, it felt like it was, until the earthquakes.
He was simply minding the till of his shop when it happened. At first, it was subtle, almost making Hayden believe Henrietta was rummaging through the cupboards again, but the intensity rose and panic began flooding his chest.
“Henrietta!” He called to his prize-winning chicken after hearing her distressed clucks. His other animals outside began crying out, as well. Hayden, feeling dizzy against the grumbling Earth, still managed to carry the fluttering Henrietta off the ground before exiting his house to the safety of open ground.
His larger animals were almost wailing, hooves battering the shaking soil, as if they were pleading for the Earth to cease its trembling. Hayden knew not to panic, and he swiftly ushered out the animals cowering in their coops or barns, fearing that the unforgiving quakes might wreck the very roofs of their shelters.
It felt like hours before the quakes ceased. Hayden’s top priority was his animals’ safety; he counted all his cows, horses, and chickens, letting out a sigh of relief once he was certain none ran away in a panic. He spent an hour or so comforting his distressed animals, giving them their favorite treats to quell their anxiety. With his animals more-or-less calm, he checked the damages inside his home. It was a mess, definitely, but that could wait. He had to check on the rest of Mistria’s residents.
Things were even messier. Bridges and stairs collapsed, some homes now had cracks splintering through concrete walls; the children looked fearful yet tried their best to put on brave faces. And, the adults shared this knowing look in their eyes. How could Mistria recover from this?
Hayden felt a surge of responsibility overtake him. Resources were the most important factor to consider right now, especially since the bridge to the Capital cut off the sole route of imports. Hayden felt himself turn rigid at the realization that he was the only source of food for the entire town now.
Ryis, who was also offering his help to repair damages, glanced at Hayden with concern. “Hey, Hayden… You okay? Are the animals in your farm alright?” The young man gripped his hammer with a similar pressure Hayden was feeling; they all needed to step up to help Mistria overcome this tragedy. Hayden only nodded toward Ryis, a flicker of determination relayed through his gaze.
With that, Mistria’s sole goal was to recover.
And, Hayden wasn’t sure he could feed this town alone.
A few days have passed since the earthquakes, and Hayden hardly slept. Even if he dutifully finished all his tasks, he felt this lingering anxiety that plagued his mind: what if the harvest fails? What if what he can give is no longer enough? He spent many nights lying on his bed, eyes wide open as nightmarish scenarios looped in his head like a terrible record.
“Grandma…” He’d whisper one night. “Am I strong enough for this?” Lifting his pillow from behind his head, he twisted himself to lie down on his side, covering his ear with the cushion to ward off the onslaught of painful thoughts.
“I wish you were here to help me.” Due to sheer exhaustion, Hayden fell into a restless slumber, one tainted with his insecurities and fear of letting down his community.
When he awoke, surprising news greeted him: Adeline was inviting a competent adventurer to help restore Mistria to its former glory. She was offering the land next to Sweetwater in exchange for their services. Hayden was a bit unsure if it was a good deal, considering the condition of the fields. Sure, he tried his best to clean up every now and then, but with the damages from the earthquakes, Hayden was hardly able to give it any attention.
He also silently questioned if an adventurer can easily transition into farming life. But, he tried to push down his doubts and embody more optimism – Mistria didn’t need to feel more hopeless than it did. And so, Hayden decided to grab his old yet functional watering can and a few packs of turnip seeds, readying himself to greet the new hope of Mistria.
The day after the new farmer’s arrival, Hayden felt a little boyish – or, perhaps, just a little excited. It had been a while since a new face came to town, and with others leaving Mistria after the earthquakes, the days had become a little quieter. Unsure of what came over him, he hopped onto the back of his horse, gifts in hand, and rode toward the farm of new beginnings. Might as well give a lasting impression, right? He could make a new friend and gain a helping hand in feeding the town!
Although, he definitely never expected himself to feel enamored toward the new member of their community.
“Hayden! You nearly ran her over!”
Celine’s scolding tone brought him back to reality. Trying to hide how the new farmer’s appearance made his face feel warm, he hopped off of his horse, expressing his introduction as normally as he could.
The farmer had a smaller frame than him – which, of course, being as tall and big as Hayden would make almost everyone smaller than him – and she looked up at him with these bright, warm eyes that encapsulated an entirely new world, a world Hayden suddenly yearned to be a part of. Before his thoughts spiraled into more embarrassing ones, he gently extended his hands to offer his gifts, which were accepted cheerily.
The look of their grin made Hayden’s heart leap. “My name is Ri,” she said, voice soothing and full, stretching her arm out for a friendly handshake. “I’m glad to have another farmer around to guide me.” Taking her hand in his, it felt like sparks flew between them, mimicking thunderstorms that Hayden used to only see as disruptions to his routine.
But, it felt like certain changes were perfectly fine.
He wouldn’t mind including that gorgeous smile to his daily life.
My Warmth in Winter
Hayden was getting used to feeling at peace.
He slept like a lamb, laughed louder and brighter than he used to, and felt as if his chest swelled in joy with each passing day. The past few seasons seemed to have been good for his healing heart.
A great source of his solace was the woman walking toward him, face adorned with a smile just for him. The skip in her step was evident as she waved cheerfully, her other arm holding a picnic basket. He raised his hand, waving back, “Good morning, Ri!”
“Good morning, love,” she giggled at herself, not quite used to pet names. Hayden wasn’t sure if he could smile wider than he already was. She stopped her tracks in front of him, looking up with a mischievous tilt of her lip.
“I know that look anywhere, what’re you up to now?” Hayden teased, taking her hand in his as he twirled her around, dress fluttering like butterfly wings around her figure. She let out a breathless chuckle at his gesture, stopping to face him one more.
“I baked you your favorite,” She pursed her lips while smiling, making an expression that Hayden found too cute. He found her even more precious when she opened the picnic basket’s flaps, revealing a freshly made pumpkin pie. She brandished it like a wondrous object to marvel at; and if Hayden’s being honest, anything she makes feels more precious than any rare gem in the mines.
Hayden sighs and shakes his head endearingly. “You’re too good to me, darl’.” He pressed a kiss on her forehead, prompting red to spread on her cheeks. He took her free hand and pressed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. Hayden never let go of her hand when he asked her, “You ready to go, love?”
She tugged him forward, toward the Deep Woods, looking back at him. “Of course, I’ve been wanting to meet your grandma.” Something soothing rushed through Hayden’s entire being; it was an emotion he couldn’t ascribe to a single word: he felt gratitude, relief, excitement, sheer adoration, and peace.
He felt love.
He welcomed the sensation that filled the hollow gaps of his heart, not to replace, but to restore. For once, loneliness felt foreign, becoming an old companion that Hayden could finally let go of. After all, she was here now. And, she was his as much as he was hers.
Before entering the Grove of Rest, Hayden paused for a moment, making Ri look back with a twinge of worry on her eyebrows. “Are you okay, Hayden?”
He only bent down and kissed away the wrinkle between her brows. He kept his forehead on hers, finally allowing himself to be vulnerable after years of unrest.
“I can’t imagine my life without you,” the confession was easy and light, even though its implication held Hayden’s entire heart and soul. Ri’s eyes twinkled with the same concoction of grand emotions.
“Neither can I, Hayden.” A gentle kiss, brief yet tender, was shared under the rustling trees of the Deep Woods. The insects seemingly sang them a song of love as the ripples of the pond mimicked the rhythm of their hearts. They embraced each other, as if they each received the greatest gifts they could ever ask for. Parting only to enter the Grove of Rest, they continued to walk hand-in-hand, arriving in front of a tombstone wrapped around the sturdy trunk of the conifer tree.
‘Greta, of Sweetwater Farm’
Hayden smiled at the writings, eyes soft and glad. Grasping Ri’s hand a little tighter, he greeted the woman who taught him about family,
“Hey, grandma. I’d like you to meet the love of my life.”
Hayden was certain everything truly will be fine.