Harris and Liam trudged into Greenhollow just as the sun began to peek over the rooftops, the warm glow of dawn barely piercing through the thick layer of exhaustion that hung over them. As they crossed the threshold into the village, Harris sighed, glancing sideways at Liam, who was barely keeping his eyes open.

“Think we’ll get a hero’s welcome, kid?” Harris asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

Liam rubbed his eyes and gave a tired smile. “Doubt it. They’ll probably ask where we’ve been and why we didn’t come back with any firewood.”

Harris chuckled, shaking his head. “I’d take a lecture over what we’re about to deal with.” He noticed a cluster of villagers standing by the well, their eyes following him and Liam as they walked by. There were murmurs—whispers that carried just enough venom to hint that something was brewing beneath the surface. Harris frowned, but kept his expression neutral. He had been here before, in a different life, with a different crowd—and the outcome had never been pretty.

The tension in the air was palpable. The villagers' gazes were not just curious—they were wary, suspicious, and it made Harris's skin prickle. He knew all too well how quickly suspicion could turn into something more dangerous.

“Hey, Harris!” A familiar voice called out. Martha bustled over, her apron covered in flour, her face flushed as if she’d been in the middle of baking and dropped everything to run over. She gave Harris a stern look that was tempered with warmth. “Where in the world have you been? You’ve had everyone worried sick.”

Harris opened his mouth to respond, but Martha cut him off, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And not just worried—Finnian’s been telling tales again. You might want to watch yourself.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Harris muttered, glancing at Liam, who looked more amused than anything. “I’ll bet Finnian’s got half the village convinced I’m a ghost or something.”

Martha frowned, leaning in closer. “Or something worse. And there’s someone here asking questions. Some investigator from out of town. Says he’s looking into… well, you.”

Harris felt the blood drain from his face, and he forced a tight smile. “An investigator, you say? That’s… that’s lovely. Just what I needed.”

“Maybe they just want to know how you keep your garden so weed-free,” Liam offered with a grin, earning a glare from Harris.

Martha shook her head. “I mean it, Harris. This fellow’s been poking around, asking about where you came from, what you’re doing here. You need to be careful.”

“Right. Careful,” Harris sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Thanks, Martha. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Martha gave him a long, assessing look before nodding and patting his arm. “I know you’re up to something good, Harris. Whatever they’re saying, I’ve got your back.” With that, she turned and headed back toward her home, leaving Harris and Liam standing in the dusty village square.

“So,” Liam said, nudging Harris’s arm. “How do we handle this investigator? Tell him a nice story about your past life as a… traveling circus magician?”

Harris shot him a look. “I’m not sure an investigator would appreciate my sense of humor. And besides, that’s too close to the truth for comfort.”

Before Liam could respond, they heard a cough. Turning, Harris found himself face-to-face with a man dressed in an official-looking coat, his eyes sharp and his expression colder than a winter’s night. The man’s presence seemed to sap what little warmth the dawn had brought.

“Harris, is it?” the investigator asked, his voice clipped and professional. “I was hoping we could have a word. It seems there are… quite a few questions about you among the villagers.”

Harris forced a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course. Questions. Always happy to oblige.”

The investigator gave a thin-lipped smile that suggested he wasn’t convinced by Harris’s attempt at nonchalance. “Shall we talk somewhere more… private?” He gestured toward a bench under the shade of a large oak tree. Harris nodded, following him, with Liam trailing a few steps behind.

As they reached the bench, the investigator sat down, motioning for Harris to join him. Harris obliged, and Liam stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching the exchange closely.

“You’ve been living here for some time, haven’t you?” the investigator began, his gaze fixed on Harris. “And yet, no one seems to know much about you. Where you came from, what brought you to Greenhollow. Don’t you think that’s a bit… unusual?”

Harris shrugged, keeping his expression neutral. “Not much to tell, really. I’m just a gardener. Came here for the peace and quiet. Didn’t think my past was all that interesting.”

“Hmm,” the investigator said, clearly not satisfied with the answer. “And yet, people seem to think you’re involved in… well, things beyond gardening. There’s talk of strange occurrences, and your name keeps coming up.”

“Rumors,” Harris said, his voice light, though his insides twisted with unease. “You know how small towns are. People like to talk.”

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The investigator’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze piercing as if trying to peel back Harris's layers. Harris could feel the pressure mounting, the weight of his secrets pressing against his chest. Just as the silence began to stretch uncomfortably, there was a sudden commotion behind them. Martha came bustling over, her eyes wide with indignation.

“Excuse me!” she called, her voice carrying across the square. “What’s all this about, then? Harris is a good man, and I won’t have you grilling him like he’s some sort of criminal!”

Harris closed his eyes for a moment, resisting the urge to groan. “Martha…”

But she was undeterred, planting herself firmly in front of the investigator, her hands on her hips. “If you must know, Harris is the reason my vegetable patch is the envy of the village. Always helping others, that one. You should be thanking him, not questioning him!”

The investigator’s eyebrows rose, and he glanced at Harris, who gave a helpless shrug. “I’m sure Mr. Harris is very… community-minded,” he said, his voice dripping with skepticism. “But I still have questions that need answers.”

“Questions?” Martha huffed. “Ask him about his potatoes, then. Best potatoes in Greenhollow, if you ask me.”

Liam let out a small snort, quickly turning it into a cough when Harris shot him a look. The investigator sighed, clearly realizing that he wasn’t going to get much more out of Harris with Martha hovering nearby.

“Very well,” he said, standing up. “But this isn’t over, Mr. Harris. I’ll be staying in Greenhollow for a while longer. I do hope you’ll be more forthcoming next time we speak.”

Harris nodded, forcing another smile. “Of course. I’ll make sure to have a detailed history of my gardening techniques ready for you.”

The investigator gave him a long, unimpressed look before turning and walking away. Martha watched him go, her eyes narrowed, then turned back to Harris, her expression softening.

“I’m sorry, dear,” she said, patting his arm. “I just couldn’t stand the way he was looking at you. Like you’d done something wrong.”

Harris sighed, giving her a weary smile. “It’s alright, Martha. I appreciate it. Really. But I’m afraid this is just the beginning. He’s not going to stop until he finds something to latch onto.”

“Well, he won’t find anything,” Martha said firmly. “Because there’s nothing to find. And we’ll all stand by you, Harris. You’re one of us, and don’t you forget it.”

Harris nodded, his throat tight. He glanced at Liam, who gave him an encouraging smile. “See? Told you we’d figure it out,” Liam said.

“Figure it out,” Harris muttered, shaking his head. “More like stumble through it and hope for the best.”

Liam grinned. “That’s kind of our thing, isn’t it?”

Harris chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. “Yeah, kid. I guess it is.” He looked around the village, the familiar sights and sounds settling something inside him. The birds were starting to chirp in the distance, and the smoke from the morning fires was curling up into the sky, carrying the comforting scent of fresh bread and cooked oats. It wasn’t perfect, and it definitely wasn’t peaceful anymore, but it was home. And for now, that was enough.

The morning bustle of the village had started to pick up. Villagers moved about, carrying baskets and chatting in low voices. Harris could feel the weight of their gazes as he and Liam walked toward their small cottage at the edge of Greenhollow. He tried not to meet anyone’s eyes, but he could hear snippets of conversation—whispers about him, Finnian’s name being mentioned more than once, and the occasional suspicious glance in his direction. Each murmur seemed to add another stone to the growing weight pressing on his shoulders.

As they approached their cottage, Harris paused, turning to Liam. “We’re going to need to keep our heads down for a while. This investigator, Finnian… they’re not going to let up. We need to be careful.”

Liam nodded, his expression serious. “I know. But we’re not alone. Martha, the villagers—they’ll back you up. We just need to give them a reason to keep believing in us.”

Harris smiled faintly. “You’re right, kid. It’s just… I didn’t expect to have to fight so hard just to keep living a quiet life.”

Liam shrugged. “Guess that’s just how it is for people like you, Harris. You can’t escape your past, but maybe you can turn it into something good. Something that helps people.”

Harris sighed, glancing at the cottage door. The garden out front was overgrown, the flowers wilting from the neglect of the past few days. He knelt down, running his fingers over the dry leaves, a frown creasing his brow. “Maybe. But first, I think I need to tend to this garden. It’s looking worse than I feel.”

Liam laughed, the sound breaking the tension. “I’ll grab the watering can. We’ll get it sorted in no time.”

Harris watched as Liam jogged off toward the side of the cottage, a small smile tugging at his lips. The kid was right. Maybe he couldn’t escape his past, but he could choose what to do with it now. And right now, that meant getting his hands dirty and making something grow.

As Liam returned, they worked in companionable silence, pulling weeds, watering the flowers, and turning the soil. The rhythmic motions helped to calm Harris’s mind, the weight of the investigator’s questions slowly lifting as he focused on the task at hand. The garden began to look a little less forlorn, the vibrant colors returning as the flowers perked up under their care. The scent of damp earth and fresh blossoms filled the air, and Harris found himself breathing a little easier.

After a while, Liam paused, leaning on his shovel. “You know, Harris, I think you’re pretty good at this. The whole ‘making things better’ thing. Not just the garden.”

Harris looked up, meeting Liam’s gaze. There was sincerity in the kid’s eyes, a belief that Harris had long since lost in himself. He gave a small nod, his voice quiet. “Thanks, Liam. I guess… I guess I’m trying.”

Liam smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s all anyone can ask for, right?”

Harris chuckled, shaking his head. “I suppose so.” He straightened, wiping the dirt from his hands. The sun was higher in the sky now, the warmth beginning to chase away the chill of the early morning. He looked around the garden, the bright flowers and neatly tended beds, and felt a small sense of accomplishment. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“Come on,” Harris said, clapping Liam on the shoulder. “Let’s go see if we can’t find something to eat. I think we’ve earned it.”

Liam grinned, dropping his shovel and following Harris toward the cottage. “You think Martha’s got any of those scones left?”

“If we’re lucky,” Harris said, a hint of mischief in his voice. “And if we’re not, well… I’m sure we can convince her to make more.”

They headed inside, the door creaking as it closed behind them. For now, they had a moment of peace, a brief respite from the questions and the suspicions. Harris knew it wouldn’t last—knew the investigator would be back, that Finnian would keep stirring up trouble. But for now, he had Liam, the garden, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, they could make it through this together.

And for now, that was enough.