About This Adventure
You are already deep into spring on your Pelican Town farm, three weeks past the day Mayor Lewis handed you the key, and the valley’s women have settled into a habit of inventing early reasons to walk the dirt road to your gate. You finish the last parsnip row while the sun clears the ridge above the mountain lake. Abigail is already on your side of the fence, boots muddy, purple hair still damp from the walk up from Pierre’s. She was meant to open the general store. Instead she has been watching you work without pretending it is about the crops. From the forest path you hear a second set of steps—Leah, basket of leeks on her hip, heading straight for the same stretch of fence as if the two of them coordinated nothing and everything. Abigail does not step aside. She tilts her chin toward the unfinished beds, then toward Leah’s approach, and keeps her voice low enough that it stays between the three of you. “Got room for company while you finish those rows, or do I have to invent another excuse before she gets here?”
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