Tilly spoke with Franklin for a while longer, not really saying much, just making a point to show the honu that he was thought of and appreciated. In the follow-up chatter, he learned that Amelia was just over the bridge, helping to oversee the initial setup of the agricultural zone.

Nodding to Franklin and promising to find him on the wall, Tilly jogged off, crossing the bridge and moving into the miles of the valley lying on the other side of the river. He had only seen this part of their settlement from a distance and had been interested in getting a closer look anyway. Aside from the private settlement the honu had started, this whole side of the valley was being aggressively converted into agricultural plots.

He saw miles of pasture with a surprising amount of animals already grazing peacefully within hastily constructed fence lines. Even at this distance, he could tell that none of the animals were quite what he would expect from domesticated livestock. Instead of being drawn to the interesting agricultural questions of fantasy farming, he turned to move deeper into the already thriving food-producing plots. He skirted the flooded rice fields already being harvested by farmhands and walked a small dirt path between several huge gardens of impressive variety.

Past them, he saw miles of grainfields that showed crazy amounts of growth for only a week's cultivation... Everywhere he looked, workers were busy. None seemed to be in a rush, but Tilly also couldn’t spot a single person sitting or relaxing. They all seemed to be diligently pursuing their tasks with focus.

Then again, with the Boon and the bonus from gaining a nature-aspected High Priestess, Tilly could imagine that everyone wanted to work around the clock to produce as much as possible before any bonuses ran out. Plus it was probably pretty awesome for any class-related skills they were training, especially if those skills were leveled by the volume of food produced.

“Young Man!” Shouted a warbly voice from deep within one of the garden rows.

Tilly looked over and spotted a familiar old satyr shuffling toward him with surprisingly sprightly steps. He couldn’t help but smile as a brand new class identifier appeared over George’s bobbing head.

Level 58 Agriculturalist.

“What can I do for you? You must be hungry! I knew they wouldn’t feed you enough...” He shot through the three sentences between billowing breaths of exertion.

“No Sir! They are feeding me plenty, and I’m sure that's due to all your hard work producing enough food for all these new hungry mouths.” Tilly replied gamely.

At that George's face brightened even further and his eyes took on a clever gleam, “I’m sure you had nothing at all to do with the wall of fire that offered Edna and me this incredible opportunity!” He declared happily, leaning in and raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Because of these new classes, we have gained four levels in the last twenty-four hours!” He almost shouted, punctuating his words with jabs of his fingers into Tilly’s chest.

“Edna’s a dang Arborist now! Our orchard is almost exploding with fruit, and the loggers have taken her out to the camp. Apparently with her along they produce 50% more high-quality timber!”

“No less than you two deserve, I’m sure!” Tilly replied, warmed by the capricious glow emanating from the enthusiastic old satyr.

“Son, I don't think you understand,” George said, leaning in as if sharing a secret.

“The prerequisite for this class is to have overseen over 100 acres of agriculturally converted land successfully produce 200% of its base potential… And I was just offered it! Somehow, the system seems to think I had a part in all this happening. Declared my contribution, ‘Rare’” He said, gesturing around grandly, with a slight tinge of awe coloring his voice.

“George,” Tilly said, laying a hand on the Agriculturalist’s shoulder and gently turning him back around.

“You are as much a part of this as anyone. Seriously, thank you for your diligence so far. I’m sure the System knows what it is doing.” Tilly was surprised to see tears begin to pool on the edges of George’s heavily wrinkled eyes.

“Son, even the empire didn't employ an Agriculturalist… Every crop I handle in some way increases yield by 30%. And I gain experience every time any worker under me gains a level… I am almost a Boon unto myself.” He choked out between emerging sobs.

At that moment, Tilly didn't really know what to do. George had probably been a Farmer for longer than Tilly had been alive, never dreaming of such a chance for him and his wife. Tilly's heart went out to the genuine courage this couple had shown, and he felt a deep gratitude welling in his chest that he had been there at the right moment in time to make sure these two had made it through the portal.

Tilly had spent a lifetime working in emergency response, his most consistent kind of patient being the elderly. In all that time, he had learned that there were only really two kinds of old people. By far the most common kind of elderly person was the one who was just a shadow of their younger selves, living most of their remaining years looking back in sorrow, bitterness, or both. Society had told them that they were burdens, drains on a system to which they no longer had anything to offer.

Then there was the much rarer, second kind of elderly person. One who still seemed to want to give as much as they could to their surroundings. However it was gained, the humility and thankfulness evident in their final years always caused them to shine like beacons amidst their surroundings.

George and Edna were probably always going to do whatever they could for those around them… and here he was, sobbing before Tilly, overcome by the chance to be able to do even more.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Before Tilly even registered what he was doing, he had wrapped his arms around the much smaller satyr, and George’s crying redoubled. He clung to Tilly like a buoy in a storm and inexplicably, Tilly felt tears welling in his own eyes.

“You’re a good boy you hear!” George’s muffled voice emerged from Tilly’s furred jacket. For some reason, that did it. A baseball-sized lump rose in Tilly’s throat, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t swallow it back down. His chest began to shake with the effort, and before he knew it, he was the one crying, leaning into the surprisingly strong Satyr’s arms.

They stayed like that for a while longer, until the swells of emotion had subsided. George stepped away, wiping his eyes and smiling, at Tilly’s bemused expression.

“Now young man, don’t tell me you are one of those who think tears aren’t manly! A man who can’t cry, can’t offer his strength to the world around him. He only knows how to hold it all to himself and watch as those weaker than him fail… You aren’t that kind of man.”

Tilly nodded, unable to find any words to respond to George’s firm declaration.

“George! There you are- Oh, Mr. Tillman… I didn’t expect to see you here.” Came a cultured female voice from off to the side. Tilly looked over to find Amelia emerging from the same garden that George had just come from.

“Ah! Miss Cooper! I believe this young man was looking for you! I’ll go check on the children's progress and see if they need anything, while you two catch up.” he said shooting Tilly a wink as he turned to go.

Amelia’s eyes narrowed at George as he turned to walk away. Then she swept her gaze over Tilly and took in his red puffy eyes, and ruddy cheeks…

“You wanted to see me?” She asked, quirking an eyebrow. Despite her outfit being a strange mix between laboratory assistant and safari guide, Tilly couldn't help but notice how at ease she seemed surrounded by growing things. Her simple white blouse was slightly askew under her multipocketed coat, and a smear of dirt smudged her nose, but the tension that had characterized her on their first encounter seemed to have been drained away.

“Uh, yeah… I, uh, wanted to check on you and…” Tilly said, looking around a little lost at the sudden shift in conversation. He had come to find Amelia and clear the air, but he hadn’t thought through what he was going to say. Sweeping his gaze over the garden, he had to bite back a smile as he spotted George peeking out from around a corner and giving him the inter-planer “get on with it” motion.

Amelia turned her head to spot what had drawn Tilly’s attention, but the old man had already disappeared like a ghost.

“-Apologize! I wanted to apologize again.” He blurted.

A conflicted look crossed her face at his words as she turned back to him. She stuffed her hands in a pair of her many pockets and blew out a long breath through pursed lips. Then after a thoughtful moment, she replied.

“No Jonathan… I’m the one who owes you an apology.”

“What! No, you saved our lives and almost-”

“Stop! Please.” She interrupted holding up her hands to forestall any objections.

“I have only met three other humans in my time here, and all three turned out to be twisted in some disturbing way. When I first met you, part of me was looking for betrayal from the onset… Then when it turned out that you were Corrupted. Well that was all I needed to write you off.-“

“No, Amelia. I should have told you. I should have told everyone… but I didn't because I was scared.” Tilly confessed in a rush, afraid that if he didn’t get it all out, his compromised internal thought process would twist this into some sort of self-righteous pity party. She wrapped her arms around herself as she struggled to get her own words out the way she wanted them.

“Look. I heard how you got infected, it clearly wasn't your fault. Now that I feel it inside of me, nibbling at the edges of my being… I can’t imagine what it would be like to fight something like this while trying to adjust to an entirely new world. I was scared out of my mind for months when I first arrived, hiding in the caravan afraid of almost everything I saw. If it wasn’t for Grandmother Weaver…" She trailed off with a sigh of exasperation, looking off into the distant past.

“Amelia,” Tilly said, calling her eyes back to his.

“I get it. You were in an impossible situation and you didn’t need to be dealing with my problems on top of everything else,” he said finding himself inexplicably angry that she didn't seem to understand what he was trying to say. He was trying to apologize! He had been wrong, whatever his excuses were. He had still chosen to hide his situation for selfish reasons. Why couldn’t she just accept his apology and they could move on, giving him a chance to prove he could be better?

She continued to stand there, holding herself and staring into his eyes. Whatever she saw there caused her eyes grew stormy in response.

“On top of everything else?” She quoted, the lines of her face compressing into a scowl.

“George and Edna told me how you risked your chance at reaching the portal by trying to carry them to safety, on top of everything else!” she spat, anger now in full display across her features.

“If you won't accept my apology, that's fine. But please, try not to be so hypocritical about it!” she spat, turning on her heels and marching off, leaving Tilly standing there at a complete loss for words.

'What just happened?'

Eventually, he wandered back through the fields and gardens until he found the bridge again, this time without Franklin. The building crew however was already hard at work using the current structure as a support to sink the logs in at adjacent periodic points for the new wooden bridge. There was another honu there splitting the current each time they dropped a new log, allowing a smaller gnome to be lowered in first and dig out a hole for the foundation of each support.

Tilly watched for a while in silence, trying to process everything he was thinking and feeling as the sun began to set in the distance. Torches were stuck in the ground and along the edges of the bridge so that the crew could keep working, and Tilly crossed the bridge after a while and started walking along the edge of the camp.

He didn’t know how he had expected that to go… but he had hoped that apologizing again would clear things up, maybe even allow him to ask her some questions about what this world was like from her perspective. But, somehow, he had made things even worse.

Then again, that was how it had always gone with the women in Tilly’s life. Why would this be any different? A lifetime of failed conversations flashed through his mind as he gloomily moved through the fog of memories from his marriage.

He continued to stroll around the edge of the camp, not yet ready to head back to his room. In the last glimmer of sunlight, he idly pulled out the gem egg from his fantasy fanny pack. He rubbed along its smooth multifaceted surface, wondering again what he was supposed to do with it.

His thumb hitched on something as he passed it back and forth between his hands. Curious, he ran his finger over the spot again and again, confirming a definite break in the smooth finish…

Holding up close to his eyes, he couldn’t quite make out what was responsible for the change in sensation. So without really thinking about it, he enflamed his left hand and held it up to the gem, trying to get a better look.