Chapter Text
The neon lights of the city never truly turned off. In the heart of the metropolis, silence was a luxury that NuNew Chawarin could no longer afford. For three years, his life had been dictated by the rhythmic, soul-crushing hum of the office—the clicking of mechanical keyboards, the shrill ring of desk phones, and the artificial chill of the air conditioning that seemed to settle in his bones.
He was twenty-four, and he felt like a battery that had been drained and left in the sun to warp.
The "burnout" wasn't a sudden flame-out; it was a slow erosion. It was the way his coffee stopped tasting like anything but ash. It was the way he looked at the grey skyscrapers and felt they were leaning in a little closer every day, suffocating him.
Then came the envelope.
It had sat on his cramped apartment table for three days, thick and smelling faintly of dried lavender and old cedar. It was from his grandfather—the man who had spent his final days tending to a patch of earth far away from the smog. When NuNew finally broke the wax seal, the words inside had felt like a cool hand on a fevered brow.
"To my dearest NuNew,
If you are reading this, it means you have forgotten what the sun feels like on your skin. You have forgotten the way the earth smells after a spring rain. Life in the city has a way of turning a person into a ghost before their time.
I am leaving you the farm. It is a humble place, messy and stubborn, but it is honest. It gave me everything. If you find yourself lost, follow the trail to Pelican Town. The valley will hold you until you find yourself again."
Now, sitting on the worn blue velvet seat of the cross-country bus, NuNew clutched the rusted iron key in his pocket.
Am I crazy? he thought, his forehead pressed against the vibrating windowpane.
The inner monologue that had been his constant companion for the twelve-hour journey was a chaotic mess of doubt. I don’t know how to grow a weed, let alone a crop. I’m a city boy. I like hot showers and delivery apps. What if the townspeople hate me? What if I fail and have to go back to that grey cubicle with my tail between my legs?
He closed his eyes, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The bus lurched over a pothole, and for a moment, he felt utterly untethered. He was a boy with one suitcase, a box of old records, and a deed to a property he hadn't seen in fifteen years.
Then, the air changed.
It started as a subtle shift—a coolness that didn't come from a machine. It was crisp. It tasted of pine needles and damp moss. NuNew opened his eyes and gasped.
The grey concrete barriers of the highway had vanished. In their place were towering evergreens that reached for a sky so blue it looked like a watercolor painting. The bus was winding down a narrow mountain pass, and below them, tucked into a cradle of emerald hills and sparkling blue veins of river water, lay Pelican Town.
The morning sun was just beginning to crest over the eastern peaks, casting a golden, honey-thick light over the valley. It wasn't the harsh, blinding glare of the city reflecting off glass; it was a soft, welcoming glow that seemed to soak into the trees.
NuNew felt the tightness in his chest—a knot he hadn't even realized he’d been carrying for years—suddenly begin to loosen. He pressed his face to the glass like a child, his eyes wide as they passed a sign that read: WELCOME TO PELICAN TOWN. POPULATION: 30 (And growing!)
"We're here, kid," the bus driver grumbled, pulling the lever to open the doors.
NuNew stepped off the bus and onto the gravel. The silence hit him first. It wasn't a dead silence, but a living one—the rustle of leaves, the distant chirp of a bird he couldn't name, and the soft gurgle of a nearby stream. He took a deep breath, and for the first time in three years, his lungs didn't feel heavy.
"It's... it's real," he whispered to himself.
Following the map his grandfather had drawn on the back of the letter, NuNew began the walk toward the western edge of the village. He passed a quaint general store and a small clinic, the cobblestones under his boots feeling solid and ancient.
Then, he reached the gate.
The sign, hand-carved and weathered, hung crookedly: Chawarin Farm.
NuNew stepped through the archway and stopped dead. His "amazement" was instantly met with a healthy dose of "bewilderment."
"Oh... oh dear."
The farm was a beautiful disaster. The cottage he remembered as a cozy sanctuary was still there, but it was nearly swallowed by vines. The fields were a riot of overgrown grass, thickets of wild blackberries, and massive, moss-covered stones. Fallen logs blocked the path to the small pond, and the fence was leaning at a precarious forty-five-degree angle.
It was a jungle. A gorgeous, terrifying, overwhelming jungle.
"Grandpa," NuNew breathed, a small, nervous laugh escaping his lips. "You forgot to mention I’d need a machete just to find the front door."
"It’s got character, doesn't it?"
NuNew spun around, nearly tripping over a stray branch. Standing near the porch was an older man with a friendly, weathered face, wearing a tan hat and a purple waistcoat that looked a bit too formal for a farm.
"Mayor Lewis?" NuNew asked, recognizing the face from old photos.
"The one and only!" The man stepped forward, his eyes crinkling as he beamed at NuNew. "You must be little NuNew. My goodness, the last time I saw you, you were barely tall enough to reach the counter at the Stardrop Saloon. Your grandfather spoke of you every single day."
NuNew felt a lump form in his throat. "He did?"
"Every day," Lewis insisted, patting NuNew’s shoulder. "He was so proud of you. He always said you had a 'bright spirit' that belonged in the sun, not under those city lights. He knew you'd come home eventually."
Lewis walked toward the house, gesturing to the wild landscape. "I know it looks like a lot of work. The land has been sleeping since your grandfather passed. It’s been waiting for someone with Chawarin blood to wake it up again. But don't you worry about the mess today. Today is for settling in."
They spent the next hour inside the small cottage. Lewis helped him dust off the old wooden table and showed him how to work the wood-burning stove. He talked about the history of the town, about the seasons, and about how much the community had missed having a farmer on this plot.
"We're a tight-knit bunch, NuNew," Lewis said, standing by the door as the afternoon sun began to dip low. "We help our own. And since you’re new to the... well, the 'everything' of farming, I’ve arranged for someone to give you a hand."
NuNew looked up from his suitcase, his heart fluttering with a mix of gratitude and nerves. "A hand?"
"The best rancher in the valley," Lewis said with a proud nod. "He’s been the backbone of this town since he took over his family’s ranch. He knows every animal, every blade of grass, and every secret the soil has to tell. To be honest, I don't know what we'd do without him. Everyone in town knows if you have a problem, you go to him."
Lewis stepped onto the porch, looking toward the southern path that led toward the forest.
"He's a bit of a local legend," the Mayor chuckled, seeing NuNew’s curious expression. "The kids adore him, the elders rely on him... and I suspect he’s the only reason the JojaMart people haven't managed to buy us all out yet. He’s got a heart of gold, that one."
Suddenly, the sound of rhythmic thumping echoed from the path—the steady, powerful gait of a horse.
Lewis’s face lit up. He raised a hand, waving at a figure emerging from the golden haze of the setting sun.
"Ah," Lewis said, a knowing glint in his eye as he looked back at NuNew. "Here he comes."
NuNew stepped out onto the porch, his breath catching in his throat. Through the tall grass and the shadows of the trees, a silhouette appeared—a man sitting tall and effortless atop a massive dark horse, moving with a grace that made the world around him seem to hold its breath.
The golden hour in Pelican Town was unlike anything NuNew had ever experienced. In the city, the sunset was just a orange smudge between skyscrapers, quickly replaced by the harsh glare of streetlamps. Here, it felt like the whole world was being dipped in honey.
But as the rider approached, NuNew found he couldn't look at the scenery anymore.
The man on the horse didn't just look like he belonged in the valley; he looked like he owned the peace of it. As he drew closer, the horse slowed to a rhythmic trot, hooves kicking up small puffs of dirt that glowed in the light.
With a soft "Whoa, Thunder," the man pulled on the reins. The horse—a magnificent, muscular beast—came to a halt just a few feet from the porch.
NuNew felt his breath hitch.
Up close, the man was even more intimidatingly handsome. He wore a dark flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms that were slightly tanned and dusted with dark hair, the muscles taut from a day of physical labor. He wore a leather riding glove on one hand, and as he swung his leg over the saddle to dismount, he did so with a fluid, athletic grace that made NuNew feel suddenly very aware of his own clumsy, city-boy legs.
The man landed softly on the grass and pushed back the brim of a worn baseball cap, revealing dark, expressive eyes and a smile that seemed to carry the warmth of the sun itself.
"Zee! Right on time," Lewis greeted him, beaming. "I was just telling young NuNew here that you’re the man he needs to see if he wants to survive his first week."
Zee chuckled, a low, resonant sound that seemed to vibrate in the air between them. He tucked his gloves into his back pocket and stepped toward the porch, extending a hand.
"Mayor’s exaggerating again," Zee said, his voice deep and smooth, like silk over gravel. "But I'm happy to help. You must be the one who’s taking over the old man’s place. I’m Zee. I run the ranch just south of here."
NuNew reached out, his small hand disappearing into Zee’s large, warm palm. The contact sent a strange, tingly jolt up his arm—not like a static shock, but like a sudden rush of caffeine.
"I'm... NuNew," he managed to say, though his voice sounded much smaller than he intended. "Thank you for coming, Hia... I mean, Mr. Zee."
Zee’s eyebrows arched slightly at the 'Hia,' and his smile widened, turning into something softer, more private. "Hia Zee is fine, NuNew. 'Mr. Zee' makes me feel like I’m about to give a lecture at the community center."
"Oh, right. Sorry," NuNew squeaked, feeling his cheeks heat up.
"Don't be sorry," Zee said, his gaze lingering on NuNew’s face a second too long before he turned to look at the overgrown farm. He let out a low whistle. "Grandpa was a great man, but he definitely left you a lot of 'nature' to deal with."
"It’s a bit much, isn't it?" NuNew asked, looking down at his brand-new, un-scuffed boots. "I think I might have made a mistake coming here. I don't even know the difference between a parsnip and a weed."
Zee stepped closer—not enough to be intrusive, but enough that NuNew could smell the faint, pleasant scent of cedar, hay, and clean sweat. It was a grounded, masculine smell that felt incredibly safe.
"Everyone starts at the beginning, NuNew," Zee said softly, his voice dropping an octave. "And you're not doing it alone. The valley has a way of giving back exactly what you put into it. Besides," he winked,
"I’ve got a tractor and a very sharp scythe. We’ll have this cleared out before the first Luau, I promise."
"See?" Lewis chimed in, clapping his hands together. "I told you! Zee is the best. Now, I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. I have to go check on Marnie’s shipment. Zee, make sure he doesn't try to use that rusty old axe without showing him the grip first, alright?"
"I've got him, Lewis," Zee said, his eyes still fixed on NuNew. "Go on."
As the Mayor wandered off toward the town, a sudden, heavy silence fell over the farm, broken only by the occasional snort from Thunder the horse.
NuNew felt a sudden wave of shyness. He looked at his feet, then at the house, then at Zee’s boots. "You really don't have to help me, Hia Zee. I know you're busy. The Mayor said everyone in town asks for you."
Zee stepped up onto the first wooden step of the porch, bringing them level. "They do. But helping you feels... different."
NuNew looked up, his heart doing a strange little flip. "Different?"
"Fresh," Zee clarified, his gaze searching NuNew’s face with an intensity that made NuNew feel like he was being truly seen for the first time in years. "The town has been the same for a long time. It’s nice to see some new life here. Especially someone as... bright as you."
NuNew’s brain momentarily short-circuited. Did the local legend just call me bright?
"I—I'm not that bright. I'm actually pretty tired," NuNew admitted, the honesty slipping out before he could stop it. "The city... it felt like it was eating me alive."
Zee’s expression softened instantly, his playful smirk turning into a look of genuine empathy. He reached out, as if to touch NuNew’s shoulder, then hesitated and pulled back, resting his hand on the porch railing instead.
"I get it," Zee said quietly. "My family moved here because my dad couldn't stand the noise anymore. The Valley heals people, NuNew. Give it time. And give yourself time."
NuNew felt a lump in his throat. He nodded, unable to find words.
"Tell you what," Zee said, brightening the mood. "It’s getting dark, and you need to unpack. Tomorrow is a Wednesday. Pierre’s shop is open early. I’ll come by at eight? I’ll bring you some tools that actually work, and I’ll show you the town properly. I'll introduce you to everyone—Gus, Robin, maybe even Marnie so you can see the cows."
NuNew smiled, a real, genuine smile that reached his eyes. "I’d like that, Hia Zee."
"Good," Zee said, stepping back down toward his horse. He vaulted back into the saddle with that same effortless power. He looked down at NuNew one last time, the setting sun silhouetting him like a hero from a storybook. "Get some sleep, Farmer NuNew. The Valley is happy you're here."
With a click of his tongue, Zee turned Thunder around and galloped off toward the south, his dark hair catching the last rays of light.
NuNew stood on the porch until the sound of hooves faded into the rustle of the wind. He looked at the overgrown weeds, the crumbling fence, and the daunting task ahead. For the first time since he’d received that letter, he didn't feel like a ghost.
He felt like a person who was just beginning.
As he turned to go inside, he thought he saw a tiny, green, apple-like creature peeking out from behind a large rock near the mailbox. It did a little hop and disappeared into the grass.
NuNew blinked, rubbing his eyes. "Okay, definitely need sleep. I’m hallucinating fruit."
But as he closed the cabin door, he noticed a small gift sitting on the porch swing that hadn't been there before. It was a single, perfect leek—foraged from the forest—with a small note in neat, bold handwriting:
Welcome home. - Z