Kain may have planned for sleep, but the weather had other plans. Dark clouds rolled in just after sunset, bringing with them the first real test of his roof.

Kain spent half the night moving his bedroll to dodge the leaks, finally wedging himself into a relatively dry corner near the fireplace. The storm wasn't severe, but the steady drip of water finding new paths through his ceiling made sleep difficult.

Each new leak confirmed what he already knew: the roof couldn't wait either. The sound of water hitting his floor in the darkness reminded him of nights out in the field with the rest of the Silver Hands.

Good memories of a time when he had a proper tent.

Morning came far too early, the sun coming through the gaps in the worn shutters. Kain's muscles protested as he untangled himself from the damp bedroll.

The night's rain had left puddles across his floor, turning the layer of dust into a kind of muddy paste.

"Perfect. Just perfect."

He stretched his stiff neck.

The old floorboards creaked under his weight as he made his way to what remained of his kitchen. He'd kept his pack elevated on a broken chair, thankfully keeping his food dry.

The bread Sorrel brought yesterday would have to do for breakfast.

A loud crash from outside completely woke him up. Through the clouded window, he spotted one of the barn's shutters hanging by a single hinge.

The storm had claimed another victim.

Cursing under his breath, Kain pulled on his boots and headed outside. The morning air was crisp after the rain, and his boots squelched in the mud as he made his way to the barn.

The shutter banged again in the wind, threatening to tear free completely. Up close, he could see where old rot had finally given way under the storm's assault.

The wood was soft and spongy under his fingers as he tried to hold it steady.

"At least it's just the shutter," he muttered, examining where it hung precariously. "For now."

He managed to wedge it somewhat closed using a piece of broken board, but it was a temporary fix at best. Another good storm would finish the job.

The rest of the barn hadn't fared much better. Water had found its way through the gaps in the roof, leaving dark stains on the wooden beams below.

The floor was a mess of puddles and old straw turned to muck.

As he picked his way carefully through the barn, something caught his eye - a glint of metal in the weak morning light. Pushing aside some fallen boards, he found an old toolbox shoved into a corner.

The metal was rusted, but the latch still worked. Inside, he found a handful of bent nails, a rusty hammer head without its handle, and - surprisingly - a relatively well-preserved carpenter's level.

"Now this might be useful," he said, wiping decades of grime from the level's brass fittings. The bubble still moved freely in its glass tube.

A good tool was worth its weight in gold out here.

A sound from outside made him look up. Through the barn's open door, he could see Oren's cart approaching his gate.

"Great." Kain looked down at his mud-covered clothes and sighed. Not exactly how he'd planned to start establishing himself as a reliable farmer.

He headed out to meet the boy, tucking the level into his belt. Maybe Oren would know where he could get some decent lumber for repairs.

The roof couldn't wait much longer, and he'd rather not spend another night dodging leaks.

The morning was just beginning, and already his list of urgent tasks was growing longer by the minute.

Oren pulled his cart to a stop, his eyes widening at Kain's mud-streaked appearance. The collection cart looked empty except for a few crates in the back.

"Rough night?" Oren jumped down from his perch.

"Storm found every hole in my roof." Kain gestured at the house. "And a few new ones."

"Yeah, the first spring storm's always the worst." Oren scratched his head. "Though usually folks don't have roof issues."

"I'm not too prideful to ask for advice. You've been around a while and see a lot of things, I'm guessing, making your rounds." Kain swept his arm across the view of his dilapidated property.

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"I've got a roof that's more holes than shingles, a barn that's one storm away from collapse, and fields that haven't seen a plow in years. I'm not too proud to admit I need advice."

Oren hopped off his cart and leaned against the fence. He looked around the property.

"If I were you, I'd start small. You've got a lot of problems, and not a lot of time, manpower, and I'm guessing money. Pick one field, get it working, use that money for the next thing."

Oren pointed to the closest plot.

Oren kicked at a clump of mud with his boot. "So, how much coin are you working with? For repairs and such?"

"Basically broke after buying this place." Kain leaned against the fence post.

"What? Thought you were some kind of adventurer. Those types usually swim in gold."

"Mercenary. There's a difference." Kain's jaw tightened. "Some job overlap, but not the same thing."

"Still." Oren shrugged. "Should've had a decent pile saved up from that kind of work."

"I did." Kain's fingers traced the old scars on his knuckles. "But there were people it was owed to. Families who lost someone. Debts that needed settling. Did what was right."

"Must've been some serious debts to leave you with just this." Oren gestured at the run-down farm.

"The kind you can't ignore," Kain responded, leaving it at that.

"Fair enough." Oren nodded, seeming to sense he'd pushed far enough. "Well, being broke doesn't help with all this." He waved at the property.

"No, it doesn't," Kain agreed.

Oren shrugged. "Well, you said you were a mercenary, right? I heard a rumor some wolves were seen nearby. Might be a job in town to clear them out. Other than that... you might just start with worrying less about repair, focusing on patching up, and then trashing the rest, starting over."

Kain's hand reflexively touched the sword hilt at his side. Old habits. "Wolves? How many are we talking about?"

"Pack of five or six from what I heard. Been hitting some of the outlying farms, mostly chickens so far. But you know how it goes - chickens today, sheep tomorrow, kids the day after."

Oren kicked at a stone. "Town council's been talking about putting up a bounty."

"Might be worth looking into." Kain studied the treeline at the edge of his property. Wolves meant tracks, meant patterns.

Different kind of work than farming, but familiar ground at least. "Who handles that sort of thing around here?"

"The guild too. Though..." Oren lowered his voice. "Between you and me, check with Sorrel first. She hears everything at the tavern, might know more details than what's officially posted."

The thought of earning some coin while putting old skills to use had merit.

"What about the rest?" Kain gestured at the barn. "Starting over sounds expensive."

"Less expensive than trying to save what can't be saved." Oren tapped the rotting fence post. "Half these buildings are more rot than wood. Might be better to tear down and rebuild piece by piece, instead of throwing good money after bad trying to patch everything."

"So no hope for it?" Kain pulled out his notepad and started tearing out pages.

"No, probably not. But hey, I've got an idea." Oren's eyes lit up. "Talk to Sorrel about the wolves, and I'll come over tomorrow and you and me can do some clean up around here to clear out what needs to be cleared."

Kain raised an eyebrow. "You'd help? What's in it for you?"

"Look, half these old boards and metal bits can be sold for scrap. Split it with you fifty-fifty." Oren grinned. "Plus, watching you try to farm is going to be the highlight of my collection rounds. Rather not see you buried under a collapsed barn roof your first week."

"Generous of you." Kain crossed his arms. "And the real reason?"

"Fine." Oren kicked at the mud. "My uncle runs the lumber mill. If we clear this stuff out proper, catalogue what you need, he might cut you a deal on replacement materials. I get a finder's fee."

"There it is." Kain nodded. "Smart kid."

"So? Deal?"

"Deal." Kain extended his hand. "After breakfast, I'm heading to the Copper Kettle. Meet here tomorrow at dawn?"

"Dawn?" Oren laughed. "Mid-afternoon. I've got to do collections first."

"Mid-afternoon then." Kain shook the boy's hand.

"That said, don't suppose you have a pry bar?" Kain pointed at the barn's door, which had started to sag on its hinges. "Might need one tomorrow if we're tearing things down."

"I can borrow one." Oren hopped back onto his cart. "Old Madder left plenty of tools scattered around the village. Someone's bound to have his pry bar."

"Madder?" Kain's head snapped up. "The previous owner?"

"Yeah, cranky old bastard. Used to lend his tools but never asked for them back. Just bought new ones when he needed something."

Oren adjusted his seat. "Half the village probably still has his stuff."

"What happened to him?"

"Nothing complicated, really." Oren adjusted the reins. "Sons became merchants in Riverstone, got successful. When grandkids came along, Old Madder decided family was more important than the farm. Sold it to the guild cheap so he could move quick."

"Just up and left?" Kain frowned.

"Farm was getting to be too much work for him anyway. His boys had no interest in taking it over." Oren shrugged. "He still sends letters sometimes, gardening advice mostly. Sam at the guild office keeps them."

"Sounds like he knew his stuff."

"Best herb garden in three counties, from what I heard. Those raised beds over there?" Oren pointed to the overgrown plots near the house. "Used to grow healing herbs that'd fetch top coin at market. Shame to see them gone wild like that."

"So no bad blood? No reason he left besides family?"

"Nah, just life moving on. His boys found different paths, and he wasn't getting any younger." Oren shrugged. "Sometimes things just work out that way."

Kain nodded, understanding all too well. He'd once thought he'd die with a sword in his hand on some mission or another with the Silver Hands.

That had been the plan: fight, make money, rest, new contract, repeat until the end.

Simple. Clean.

A good life.

His hand brushed against the hilt of his sword, feeling the familiar worn leather grip.

"Sometimes the path you're on isn't the one you end up following," Kain said, more to himself than Oren.

"What's that?"

"Nothing." Kain waved it off. "Just thinking about Old Madder. Makes sense, choosing family over the farm."

He remembered Mark's sister clutching her brother's silver hand insignia, Darien's mother accepting the coin purse with shaking hands, Sarah's husband standing silent at the memorial stone.

Sometimes life forced your hand, made you choose different paths.

"Guess we all have to move on eventually," Kain said.

"I better be getting to it then." Oren gathered the reins. "Collections won't collect themselves."

The cart's wheels squeaked as it rolled away, leaving fresh tracks in the mud. Kain waited until Oren disappeared around the bend, then reached into his jacket pocket.

His fingers found Mark's old flask, and he took a drag.

The whiskey burned going down.

"You'd have laughed yourself sick seeing me here, wouldn't you, Mark?" Kain wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Me, trying to be a farmer."

"Wolves, though..." He took another pull from the flask. "That's more our speed, isn't it guys? I should go talk to Sorrel."