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Chapter Text

Raguna hoisted his axe onto his shoulder and pinched his eyebrows together. “Sorry, what?”

“You heard me,” Zavier replied staunchly. “I’d like to search for treasure in your field!” He adjusted the flaps of his hat. “Please,” he added.

Still confused, Raguna looked around him. “Here?” he asked. The field wasn’t much to look at right now, he had to admit— in the dead of winter, all that grew were the hardiest of wild medicinal grasses. And after the storms that had been hitting Kardia for the past few days? Yeah, the field was kind of a mess. But Raguna was cleaning it up, as he had insisted to Mist just this morning. One fallen branch at a time. “Why do you think you’re going to find treasure out here?”

“Call it a treasure hunter’s intuition!” Zavier stuck the tip of his shovel into the snowy ground with a thump to punctuate his sentence. “You don’t need to worry, though. I won’t make a mess of your field, adventurer’s honor! Whatever I dig up goes right back in!”

Raguna tilted his head. “Except for the, uh, treasure?”

“Yes. Except for the treasure.”

Raguna flexed his fingers inside of his gloves. He looked around hopelessly. “It’s not that I don’t trust you out here, Zav,” he said, “but are you sure you want to be out here? It’s a cold one, and I can’t imagine that it would be easy to—“

“Ha, don’t worry about me , Raguna!” Zavier raised his voice noticeably. “I’m a hardened adventurer! In rain or shine, through sleet or snow, I’m willing to risk it all for the discovery of a lifetime!” He lowered his voice again. “Also, the sun’s gonna be out all day, right? It’ll warm up. So no big.”

“Raguna?” Mist’s voice rang out across the open field. “Who are you talking to out there?”

Raguna’s mouth quirked into something resembling a smile. “It’s Zavier, Mist. Come say hi.”

Zavier’s breath caught in his throat with a sort of hrk noise. “Wh— wait, what are you—“ he sputtered. “You don’t have to—“

“Oh, hi, Zavier! What are you doing here?” Against the white backdrop of snow, Mist’s skin looked positively rosy. She wrapped her heavy embroidered shawl around her tighter against the cold. “Taking an interest in the life of a farmer?”

“I— mm.” Xavier swallowed and held up a hand. “Mist! Fancy seeing you here. I was just— I’m here to, um.” He held up his shovel and wiggled it awkwardly as though it finished his sentence.

“Zavier is asking,” Raguna began graciously, “to look for treasure on the farm.”

Zavier nodded, lips pressed tight.

“Oh, you should let him, Raguna!” Mist brought a hand up to her cheek. “Maybe he’ll find a glass bottle, or something left behind by the old owners of the farm!”

“Wait,” Raguna questioned, “old owners? You mean you didn’t—“

Ignoring him, Mist clasped her hands and turned to Zavier. “You’ll show me whatever you find, won’t you, Zavier?”

Eyes wide, Zavier nodded his head up and down with such force that his goggles rattled. “Of—“ he managed, breaking into a smile, “of course!” He turned back to Raguna, eyes so full of hope that— Raguna inwardly sighed— that he didn’t really have much of a choice, did he?

“Zavier,” he began, “I’m going to do some work in the monster barns, okay? But you can dig wherever you want on the farm. But stay away from the well, okay?” He paused. “And also my house, please. But dig anywhere in the field you like.”

Mist, seeing that her place in this conversation was done, waved to the two of them and returned to the sunny spot by the farmhouse where she preferred to stand.

Zavier was still waving to her after she had turned away. “Thanks, Raguna,” he mumbled, sounding a little out of breath. “I’ll find something for sure.”

Raguna shook his head. “You’ll come get me if you need anything, right?”

“Of course,” Zavier said, adjusting his grip on his shovel and aiming it towards the ground.

“And you won’t push yourself too hard out here?” Raguna began taking backwards steps towards the monster barns, facing Zavier as he went.

“Nope!” Zavier stuck the shovel’s tip into the snow with a grunt and tried to push it deeper into the soil.

“And you won’t dig any deeper if you hit groundwater, right?”

Zavier waved him away, too focused on his shovel— which was now stuck— to respond verbally.

“Okay, I’ll be right here,” Raguna said. “Or in one of the other barns. Somewhere over here.” After one last glance over his shoulder, Raguna slipped into his barn and was gone.

After five hours of going in and out of the barns— which was about four hours longer than he needed to spend cleaning, brushing, and generally chatting to only three single-floor barns’ worth of monsters— Raguna finally worked up the nerve to check on Zavier.

The pale winter sun had, at this point, sunk well below the tree line. The beams of light that filtered through the barren tree branches were meager, and the shadows cast were long and jagged against the soft evening blue of the snow.

Sitting in the snow, at the edge of one of these shadows, was Zavier. He was hugging his shovel.

“Zav?” Raguna was already halfway across the field. “What’s wrong?”

Zavier picked his head up. “R-Raguna. Hey b-buddy, how’s it g-g-goin’?”

Raguna mumbled a mild oath under his breath as he stumbled over a stump on his way to Zavier. “Are you okay?”

“Eh, you know. T-treasure hunting takes time. And, w-well.” He shrugged. Or maybe it was a shiver? “As it turns out, it’s kind of hard to dig when the ground is f-f-fr-frozen.”

Raguna smiled despite himself. He could have told Zavier that. “Well, you did a little bit of damage,” he said, and pointed at the pockmarks of overturned dirt scattered in a ten-foot radius around Zavier.

Zavier’s laugh turned into a cough.

Heart pounding, Raguna wrapped his arms around Zavier and began rubbing to create friction. “How are you feeling?” he murmured. “How are your hands? They’re not stuck to your shovel, are they?”

“Mm. No.” Zavier balanced the shovel on his lap and flexed his gloveless fingers to prove it. “S’n-n-not that cold.”

“It’s cold , Zavier. You need to be more careful.” Letting go of Zavier for no longer than he had to, Raguna took the shovel and strapped it to his back, cinching the leather tight. “Can you stand?”

At Zavier’s nod, Raguna began lifting him to his feet. “How about walking? Can you make it to my house?”

Zavier winced but shuffled forward, gripping Raguna’s hand in his. “‘M okay, I promise,” he said between chattering teeth, “it’s really not that cold. I just g-got tired. Shoveling’s hard work.”

Frustration kept Raguna warm. “Stop saying it’s not cold,” he said. “Stop talking in general. Focus on walking.” He squeezed Zavier’s hand, making sure he had Zavier firmly by the waist with his other arm. “Almost there.”

When Raguna swung the door to his home open wide, the warmth was enough to make Zavier cry with relief. As it was, his knees buckled instead.

“Easy! Easy.” Raguna fumbled to catch him and keep the door open at the same time. Together, like one clumsy unit, their four legs carried them into the farmhouse.

“Sorry, Raguna,” Zavier breathed. “My bad.”

Without responding, Raguna half-dragged Zavier to the table in the center of his home and sat him down in a chair. Then he let go. Zavier felt the absence of his touch all the way to his bones. 

But then Raguna was back, wrapping the entire quilt from his double bed around Zavier’s whole body. Hesitantly, he removed Zavier’s hat from his head, the cold-hardened material retaining shape as he placed it on the table. “There,” he said, his voice low, “give me just a few more minutes and I’ll get the forge going, okay? That’ll heat the whole house.”

Zavier nodded. He didn’t quite know what else to do.

And for a few minutes, the farmhouse was quiet; the only sounds Zavier could hear were the sounds of Raguna working in the other room and the sound of his own heartbeat. He was also beginning to realize exactly how heavy the weight of his fatigue was weighing on him.

To distract himself from falling asleep, Zavier eyed the remains of a bread loaf that had been left out on the table. He wondered how terribly Raguna would mind if he started gnawing on it.

“Done,” he heard Raguna say somewhere behind him. “Now, how are you feeling?”

Blinking away the sleep from his eyes, Zavier shuffled around on the chair, trying to keep the quilt from slipping off of his body, to see that Raguna had stripped out of his work clothes and was, currently, wrapping something around Zavier’s neck. Not where Zavier thought he would end up tonight, he had to admit.

“Easy, easy,” Raguna said, grabbing Zavier’s wrist to prevent his sudden, jerky movements from becoming full-on panicked thrashing. “It’s a scarf, see? Just a scarf. You’re not allergic to wool, right?”

Zavier sunk back into the chair. “Th–thought you were trying to kill me,” he stammered, less because of the cold this time. “Getting revenge for w–what I did to your field.”

The last thing Zavier saw before the brim of a woolen knit cap was pulled over his eyes was Raguna’s decidedly unamused expression. “Oh no ,” he sighed, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “you overturned some dirt. How ever shall I ready the fields before springtime?”

“Hey!” Zavier adjusted the hat and squinted at Raguna. 

And once again, despite himself, he found himself smiling. He couldn’t help himself. Zavier’s nose was so red. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said. “How are your hands? Any sign of frostbite?”

Begrudgingly, Zavier slid his hands out from under the warmth of the quilt and held them up to the light. He flexed them carefully. “I think they’re okay?” he said. A little red, a little shiny, but okay. “I can move all of my fingers, anyway.”

“Okay, what about your feet?” Raguna knelt, the long pants of his winter underclothes providing a barrier between his knees and the rug beneath. “Can you take your boots off?”

Carefully, and with Raguna’s help, Zavier slid his footwear off without bending down. But despite the blanket and the forge roaring in the other room, Zavier’s blood ran cold at the sight of Raguna’s face. 

“W-what?” He screwed his eyes shut. “Oh, don’t tell me they’ve gone black? If the doc has to cut ‘em off, Mom doesn’t have the money to buy me the kind of wheeling chair a guy can adventure in, and–” Zavier wiggled his toes. Then he rolled his ankles. 

This was confusing. “Wait, they feel fine.” He peered down towards his toes– there they were, all ten of them, looking raw but healthy. Yet Raguna’s face remained the same. “What’s wrong?”

Raguna turned his pained expression towards Zavier’s face. “You weren’t wearing any socks ?” he said weakly.

Zavier paused a moment before answering. “I… never do?” At Raguna’s blank expression, he continued, “I just– I don’t really need them?”

Slowly, Raguna brought his hands to his face and massaged the area under his eyes. 

Taking his silence as an invitation to continue, Zavier said, “It’s just that, y’know, it’s just one more thing to remember in the morning, right? And you build up callouses over time, so it’s like you don’t even–”

“Stop.” Raguna held a hand up. He stood. “I’m going to cook supper now.” And he walked away from Zavier, towards the sink.

Feeling kind of terribly, now, Zavier pulled his cold, sockless feet under the quilt, hugging his knees to his chest. He watched Raguna wash his hands methodically. He watched him check his pot, making sure it was clean. And he watched Raguna walk across the room to his refrigerator, not looking away even when Raguna’s eyes flicked towards him, still assessing his condition.

It reminded Zavier of when he was little and his mom would dote on him when he caught a cold from being stupid. It frustrated him then, and it frustrated him now.

Part of him wanted to get up and help Raguna with whatever he was making– wanted to be useful, be important, wanted to do anything that could, without words, apologize for everything he had done today. But Zavier only knew how to make rice balls, and there was something mesmerizing about the way Raguna moved throughout his kitchen, handling his ingredients with such care– washing leeks, onions, potatoes… it occurred to Zavier that Raguna cooked this way because he had grown all of these vegetables himself, watching over their entire lifespan. There was something holy about what Raguna was doing here. Nobody with any sense would try to get insert themself into this.

“Hey, do you need any help?” 

Raguna barely looked up. “No, it’s okay, Zav. You stay there.”

Zavier swallowed and tried again. “I could cut vegetables or something.”

“No. Here.” Raguna carefully ladled the contents of his pot– when had he filled it?– into a small mug and carried it over to the table. “Drink this. Soup’ll be ready soon– I’ll get it all into the pot, and then we’ll just have to wait for it to simmer for a while. Okay?”

Numb and a little awestruck, Zavier carefully held the steaming mug while Raguna, back in his kitchen, was rinsing his pot and filling it again. Hot chocolate. Raguna had made him hot chocolate. 

He took a sip. It was too hot to taste. 

“Now,” came a voice from Zavier’s periphery, “you’ll have to tell me how this tastes when it’s ready. I haven’t tried this exact recipe before.” Raguna covered the pot, adjusted the heat, and came to sit down at the table. As he sat, it was like water trickling down a cave wall after a heavy rain; it seemed as though his whole body sank into the seat, losing form like gravity was the one thing it couldn’t resist. He looked so very tired.

When he spoke, his face barely moved with his words. “Why didn’t you come get me?”

Zavier spoke into his mug. 

“What?”

“I said, because I hadn’t found anything.” He tried to take a sip again. Still too hot.

Raguna fixed him in a hard gaze. “Did I, at any point, say that mattered?”

Zavier avoided his eyes. “An adventurer shouldn’t give up.” He paused. “Doesn’t.”

“An adventurer, ” Raguna almost spat, “shows up prepared. And if they don’t, they know when to head home. They know what their limits are.” He flicked a crumb off the table. “Because there’s no such thing as a dead adventurer, Zavier. You’re just dead.”

“I wouldn’t have died in your field.”

“You don’t think so?” Raguna’s jaw was set. “If I hadn’t helped you, would you have been able to walk back home? You don’t think there’s a chance you could have fallen asleep out there?” He leaned across the table. “What if I wasn’t on my property? What if I was still out in one of the caves? I spend nights out there sometimes, Zavier. What if no one found you until Mist showed up the next day?”

Zavier flinched at that. When he met Raguna’s eyes again, his were burning with anger. He pulled the knit hat off of his head; he was feeling a little too warm, at this point.

Sinking back into his chair, and now looking as sad as he was tired, Raguna let out a slow breath. “Sorry, I’m– I’m not trying to scare you, or lecture you, or anything, I just… I’ve been alone, out there, sometimes, in really tight spots, and–” He held a hand up to his forehead and closed his eyes, like the light was suddenly too bright. “–and you have people who care about you, Zav. You’ve got a whole family. I don’t want you to forget that.”

Mouth dry, Zavier took another sip of the hot chocolate. It was cooling down, now– the sweetness caught him off guard. “I really was an idiot today, huh?” He set the mug back down. “I shouldn’t have made you worry. I– I’m sorry.”

The corners of Raguna’s mouth turned upwards into a kind smile. They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments before he asked, with a touch of humor, “Did you really think there would be some kind of treasure under the field?”

“I dunno. Maybe?” Zavier shrugged as Raguna’s smile widened. “I mostly thought– hey, it’s something new to do today, right? And maybe Mist would see and think it was kind of cool. Or something. You know.”

Raguna’s smile reshaped itself into more of an oh shape. Then the smile was back. “So it was about Mist the whole time, was it? I should have guessed.”

“Not all of it,” Zavier protested, a little frustrated. 

“Wait one second, hold that thought,” Raguna said, getting up from his seat. The soup, it seemed, was ready; after a quick taste, Raguna ladled the contents of the pot into two bowls and carried them both back over to the table, wooden spoons balanced precariously on top. “Here, let me know how it is. You can break some of that bread in to soften it, if you want.”

Zavier’s eyes involuntarily fluttered shut as the scent hit his nose. “Thank you so much,” he said, the spoon already on its way to his mouth. “Mmf, this is so good. ”

Raguna shot him a wry smile as he stirred his own bowl. “Are you sure you’re not just hungry?”

“No, I– well, I am, but it’s way more than that. It’s like–” He brought another spoonful to his mouth. “–it’s like you managed to boil down all of the best holidays into a bowl . I’m eating Beach Day, the treasure hunt, and the Harvest Festival right now. It’s that good.”

Raguna shook his head— but he was smiling the way Zavier’s sister smiled sometimes, when she was pleased but embarrassed about it. He took a small sip of his soup before saying, “So, Mist, huh?”

“Aaaaugh.” Zavier buried his face in the fluffy scarf. “It was a stupid idea. Forget about it.”

“Well,” Raguna began tactfully. “I’ll agree with you there. But—“

“Hey!”

“But! I said but!” His elbows on the table, Raguna pointed at Zavier with both hands, excitement glimmering in his eyes. “You’ve just been going about it the wrong way. See, what you’ve been trying to do is get her to see you at your best, doing what you enjoy.”

Zavier nodded hesitantly, frowning.

“That’s not gonna work with Mist.”

Zavier’s frown deepened.

He shifted his hands to the side. “What you need to be doing is meeting her on her ground, tying your interactions to something she likes.”

“Alright,” Zavier said, fishing around in his soup for a piece of carrot. “How exactly do I do that?”

Raguna gave him a strange look. “It’s not obvious? Turnips, of course.”

Hm. Yes, of course. Zavier took a long sip of his soup. Then he said, “What?”

“Okay, well, first I’d advise actually talking to her, because turnips make up oh, about a quarter of what she likes to talk about, but this can be an icebreaker to getting you there. Yes, turnips.” Raguna spread his hands wide. “She loves them. Loves talking about them, loves eating them, loves looking at them– ‘obsessed’ might be going a bit far, but…” He smiled fondly. “Not by much. If you really want to impress Mist? Grow her some turnips.”

“But…” Zavier bit his lower lip. “You’re the farmer, Raguna. Not me. I wouldn’t be able to pull it off.”

Still smiling, Raguna shook his head. “Nah. You’d do just fine, if you really gave it a try. You’re in Carmite Cave all the time– that’d be the perfect place to cultivate a spring crop. And turnips are a really hardy crop with a quick germination.” His smile widened into a grin. “They were the first vegetable I grew myself, too.” 

“I…” Zavier wet his lips. The way Raguna explained it, the idea was sounding almost attractive. “I don’t have any of the tools.”

“I can lend you mine!” Raguna offered. “Or, wait, better yet, I’ll check and see what materials I have– I can make you a hoe and a watering pot of your own!” The exhaustion lining his features not even an hour ago were gone, now replaced by almost childlike excitement. He caught himself a second after, adding, “If you want to, of course.” He ducked his head, still smiling. 

When he glanced back up and away from his soup, Raguna was almost startled by the look on Zavier’s face. “You would do that?” he asked, his voice oddly heavy. “For me?”

The warmth of the farmhouse– the food, the forge, and the company– was finally beginning to seep into Raguna’s body for the first time that night. “Of course,” he said, because nothing else needed to be said. 

~

They finished their soup quickly after that– Raguna with care, Zavier with new gusto– and cleared the table with little fanfare. The dull sounds of the dishware’s clinking filled the farmhouse.

“Are you sure you’re well enough to walk back to the inn?” Raguna asked when the subject couldn’t be avoided any longer. He glanced dubiously at his double bed. “I have the room here if you’d feel better staying the night.” 

“Are you kidding?” Zavier handed his quilt back to him in a large bundle. “My mom would kill me if I didn’t come home ‘til morning. And then she’d probably kill you. ”

“Fair point. Do you want me to walk you there, then?”

“Nah, you’re already out of your work clothes.” Zavier adjusted his cap, ensuring that the flaps were hanging just right. “I’ll be fine. For sure, this time.” Zavier hesitated. “But, uh, can I borrow the scarf? Just for tonight.”

“I suppose I could allow it. Good night, Zav.”    

Chapter Text

By all accounts, Raguna had gone to sleep that night under the assumption that Zavier was willing to try growing his own turnips from seed. So he had to admit that he was a little surprised, the following morning, to see Zavier exactly nowhere inside of Carmite Cave.

This was concerning to him for a few reasons: first, because Zavier was just about always inside of Carmite Cave, and if he wasn’t here today, his absence was a direct result of their conversation over soup. Raguna was actually pretty pleased with how that conversation had gone and realized that he would be kind of upset if it had led to Zavier outright avoiding him.

The second reason was that, if Zavier didn’t show up, Raguna would be stuck with an extra hoe and watering pot that he definitely didn’t need.

And then, of course, there was always the possibility that Zavier had somehow slipped on ice, hit his head on the ground, and flat-out died on his way home last night. Not terribly likely, Raguna calculated, but until the night prior, Raguna had also deemed it unlikely that anyone would be walking around the streets of Kardia in the middle of winter without socks inside of their boots, so.

But the air inside Carmite Cave was pleasantly warm, and the orcs were keeping him at a reasonable distance for the time being, so Raguna sank against the cave wall and unwrapped the rice balls he had planned to save for later. He had, of course, already eaten breakfast, but winter made him hungry. Worry also made him hungry. Waiting for someone who might not show up when there was still so much to do– material gathering, monster caring, getting-soaked-to-the-bone-by-the-terrible-floating-fish-monsters-in-Misty-Bloom-Cave-ing– made him nauseous, but still hungry, in a contradictory sort of way.

He had just popped the last bit of rice into his mouth when, like a whirlwind, Zavier came running into the cave, skidding around the corner before sliding past a pair of perturbed orcs and into the small pocket of the cave where Raguna stood.

“Raguna! You’re already here,” he said, and Raguna was relieved to hear the smile in his voice. “Check it out!” Zavier thrust his hand forward, proudly displaying the small pouch it held aloft.

Raguna rubbed his chin, eyeing the familiar design on the pouch.

Zavier shook the bag a little, clearly impatient with not receiving the desired reaction quickly enough. “I bought the turnip seeds! With my own money and everything.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And that’s, uh, why I didn’t get here til now. I had to wait til the general store opened, y’know? But!” He shook the bag again and grinned. “Turnip seeds!”

“That’s great, Zavier.” He meant it; Raguna had, actually, brought a few seeds from his own mature turnips for Zavier to use, but he didn’t need to mention that. He was honestly a little impressed that Zavier had thought to purchase the seeds on his own. “So you think you’re ready to learn how to plant them?”

Adamant, Zavier nodded.

Raguna held out the tools he had made for Zavier. “Fun fact,” he mused fondly, “first time I met Mist, she handed me a hoe and watering pot before she even asked me my name.”

Zavier wrinkled his nose dubiously. “Weren’t you like, dying when you first got here?”

“Yes,” Raguna said, setting the watering can down. “I was. Let me show you how to use a hoe.”

Zavier hefted the tool, examining its make. It was sturdy, and clearly made with better materials than he had expected. “How much do I owe you for this?” he asked, his stomach twisting.

“What?” Raguna lifted his own hoe with ease. “No, don’t worry about it. Consider it an early birthday present.”

“My birthday’s in summer.”

“A really early birthday present, Zav. Hold the hoe like this.”

Zavier did his best to match Raguna’s grip.

“Put your right hand a little lower, okay?”

Zavier frowned and slid his hand down.

“No, that’s too far, just— hold on.” Raguna leaned his hoe against the cave wall and, before Zavier knew it, was wrapping his arms around Zavier’s body to adjust his grip.

“Like this,” he said, his calloused hands folding over Zavier’s.

Zavier’s brain short-circuited. He could barely hear Raguna’s next words. “Here, now you’re going to want to lift it up like this, not too far–” His breath was warm against Zavier’s neck.

Thnk. “Just like that. Now drag the blade towards us…” Like he was watching from outside of his body, Zavier let Raguna pull his arms back towards his hips. “...so that we make the soil soft enough for the roots to grow nice and full. Turnips are all roots, after all.” When Raguna stepped back from Zavier, with cheeks a little pink and a proud smile on his face, Zavier felt all at once like he could breathe again and like he was sorely missing something. Reaching for his own hoe, Raguna gestured for Zavier to go on. “Now you give it a try!”

Zavier balked. He looked at the soil. He looked at Raguna. He looked back at the soil. A little cautiously, he tapped the earth and scraped a little topsoil towards him.

Then he glanced back towards Raguna for reassurance. Raguna gave him a thumbs up. A little more confident, he hoed a bit deeper, overturning a nice square of soil.

“Very nice,” Raguna smiled, leaning on his hoe.

Zavier’s head snapped around to see Raguna’s face, to judge Raguna’s expression. “You mean it?” he asked, his voice betraying a little more hope than he wanted it to. “You’re not just sayin’ that?”

“Zavier, what reason would I have to inflate your ego?”

Zavier bit his lip to hide his smile. “Then you mean it as a joke, right?”

His face sort of twisted at that, but his voice still contained traces of his smile. “No, Zavier. I really meant it. You’re learning well. Keep going.”

His spirits now buoyed, Zavier brought the hoe’s blade to the earth with renewed vigor. Raguna watched him, fiddling absently with the edge of a sleeve that he would need to mend later.

Announcing the completion of his task with a loud sigh and a popping noise as he straightened his back, he surveyed his work. “Do you think this is a big enough area?”

“Probably a bit too much. But that’s fine. You’ve got the seeds?”

Zavier reached into his vest’s pocket and gingerly pulled out a small, woven-cloth bag, cupping it in his hands like it held within it kernels of gold. “‘Course I do.”

With careful, experienced hands, Raguna showed Zavier how to plant the seeds– not too deep, covering them just enough by folding a layer of loose soil over the small black dots.

“When you water them, now,” Raguna said, brushing his hands off on his tunic like they hadn’t just been laid overtop Zavier’s, “you’ll want to be gentle with it. Put the rose of the watering can close to the soil, tilt it so that the water comes out as more of a trickle, that sort of thing.”

The difficult task of hoisting the full watering pot surpassed, Zavier watered each of his three lines of newly-planted turnip seeds with the kind of focused precision that would make Dr. Edward proud. Once he had finished, he turned to expectantly face Raguna, who returned his smile with a quirk of his own lips.

“Now what?” Zavier asked.

“Now nothing. Tomorrow, we water them again.”

“Oh,” Zavier said, watching Raguna shake crumbs out of a small cloth before folding it up and slipping it into a pocket, feeling as though he had something else to say but not sure how to say it. Raguna unclasped his axe from his belt, rolled his wrist once, and waved a two-fingered salute.

Zavier half-awkwardly mirrored it and watched him leave.

Sinking into a squat, he reached blindly around for his new hoe, eyes trained on the damp earth in front of him. When his fingers brushed against the handle, he gripped it tightly.

In his head, he asked the seeds how long they would take to grow. The seeds did not answer.

“Oh, about five days,” Raguna responded easily the next morning. “Give or take.”

“That’s… not bad, I guess,” Zavier said, hoisting his full watering can up and over a lumpy rock. “So then how do you keep those guys from bothering ‘em for that long?”

“Who?”

Zavier gestured vaguely over his shoulder with a meaningful eyebrow raise. Raguna did not follow.

“The orcs, man!” Zavier tilted his head down and spoke out of a half-closed mouth. “How do you keep the monsters away from your crops?”

“They don’t bother them, Zav. Look, do they seem concerned about us at all?”

Zavier peered around the curve of the cave wall. One orc was occupied dropping pebbles into the water. The other appeared to be napping.

“No,” Zavier said, his eyes narrowing. “We were able to sneak by without causing a scene.”

Raguna laughed through his teeth. “You hang out here all the time, man, do they ever bother you?”

“Not rea– I’m pretty adept at evading them, at this point in my career. Any skilled adventurer worth their compass knows when it’s smarter to, uh, to avoid a fight.”

“Right.” Raguna put a gloved hand on Zavier’s shoulder– damp from snow. “And even if they decided to mess with you, they’d leave your crops alone. Your turnips will be fine.”

Zavier was steady for a moment, pretending as though he was carefully considering Raguna’s words.

Then Raguna gave him a light shove. “Unless they dry up. Go get watering.”

With a slight stumble, a false I-can’t-believe-you-pushed-me laugh, and a buzzing warmth radiating from his shoulder, Zavier lugged his watering can over to the plot. Carefully, he tipped the can with two hands, watching the trickle of water it produced.

“So, where are you headed after this?” Zavier asked, extremely normally and extremely casually.

“Me? Like, what am I doing?”

“Yeah, you know, like– yeah.” So casual. Nailing this.

“Ah, you know, a couple things around the farm to finish up.”

“Cool, cool.”

“I’ll probably head back over to Misty Bloom after I catch up with everyone in town. But that’s about it.”

“Nice.”

After the too-long pause that followed, Raguna asked, in that tone Zavier’s mom used with him sometimes, “What are you going to do today, Zavier?”

Zavier felt suddenly tongue-tied, wishing he hadn’t said anything in the first place and wishing Raguna would ask him more. “Oh, you know,” he said, vaguely.

“Probably, yeah,” Raguna said.

Zavier could hear the grin in Raguna’s voice before he even spun around to stick his tongue out.

~

Twice in the same day, for the first time since he was… man, eleven at the oldest, Zavier found himself sticking his tongue out once again. This time, at least, it was at his sister.

“I– I mean it, Zavier,” Tori whispered, some book clutched tight to her chest as she peeked out of her bedroom, dark circles under her eyes eerie in the low light. “Mum’s already mad at you for coming home so late the other night… it wouldn’t be smart to sneak out so soon.”

“She’s not mad, she’s worried.” He hopped on one foot to pull a too-loose sock back up over his heel. “And she won’t find out that she needs to worry about me tonight because I’m being so sneaky that she won’t wake up.” Pausing to adjust his goggles, he looked Tori dead in the eyes. “And you wouldn’t wake her up because if you did, she would know you were up this late, too.”

The only time Zavier ever saw his sister mad was when she was talking to him. “Fine,” she whispered. “I hope you die out there.”

Zavier couldn’t help a surprised snort of laughter.

The shadows around Tori’s mouth shifted as she tried to smother a smile. “I hope a g-ghost catches you… and drags you underwater, and you freeze to death. And I hope we don’t find your bloated, ice-eaten corpse until spring thaw.”

“Native Dragons, Tori. Love you too,” he said, letting the way Tori’s nose wrinkled chase away the colorful mental image she had just conjured for him. “Now go to bed, I’m comin’ right back.”

Snagging an assortment of warm overclothes from the hook by the staircase, he crept down the steps two at a time (with the exception of the creaky ones towards the bottom, which he of course avoided out of habit) and slipped out the door as quickly and quietly as he could.

Alone in the cold, clear night, Zavier cursed quietly as he shrugged the coat on. His mom’s coat and his sister’s boots, of course. He had even managed to grab Raguna’s scarf on the way out. Not a single thing he was wearing belonged to him but his sleepwear. And his hat.

~

Misty Bloom Cave was so much nicer when Raguna avoided the Sky Fish.

Even after hours of training and a heavy pouch, his axe still felt light in his hands. After today, he likely had enough claws and powders to last him through next winter. He could probably get away with shipping a bit of tonight’s haul, now that he thought about it… he wondered what the going-rate was for a Shadow Panther’s claw as he made his way towards the cave’s exit, and how much they went for in the capital, where they were surely more scarce. He was still wondering this when he ran directly into someone standing at the mouth of the cave, full force, forehead bumping into chin. He stumbled back, taking in the surprised squawking from the silhouette.

“Hi,” Raguna said, like this was normal.

“Raguna,” said Zavier, out of breath. “The turnips aren’t getting sunlight.”

Raguna blinked blearily. He rubbed his jaw. “No,” he said. “Because it’s night.”

“No– well, yeah, but I mean–” Zavier waved his hands around ineffectually. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before. Is it gonna kill them entirely, or will it just make it take longer for them to grow– how is anyone supposed to–”

Zavier’s eyes met Raguna’s, and he visibly ran out of steam, slumping forward a little. Raguna couldn’t begin to imagine what facial expression Zavier was seeing on his face. “What the heck are you even doing out here, dude,” Zavier said, pressing the palm of one hand against his eye. “I went to your house first. Do you know what time it is?”

“Well.” Raguna glanced up at the sky. “I’m assuming pre–”

“Pretty late, yeah!”

Looking at Zavier now, Raguna imagined that his goggles had probably shielded his forehead pretty considerably from the force of Raguna’s chin in the collision. It probably didn’t hurt him that badly. “You came in the middle of the night to find me?”

“Yeah.”

“Because you needed to ask if the seedlings were getting light.”

“Right, because duh, there’s a roof in the cave, and I know plants need sunlight, right? Like, it’s one of–”

Ahh. Raguna felt his mouth twisting into a smile despite himself. “And you remembered when I told you earlier I was going to be in Misty Bloom?”

“I–” Zavier stopped, his hands frozen in the middle of some emphatic gesture. They came down to rest by his side, and he stood like a little kid. “Well. Yeah.”

Raguna didn’t know what to say to that. Then: “Aw.”

“What– shut up, whaddya mean aw.” Zavier busied himself with unwinding the fluffy scarf from around his neck. “Here,” he said, balling it up and throwing it at Raguna. “Put it on.”

“What?” Raguna looked at the scarf in his hands, the same one he had lent Zavier only a day or so ago.

“Put it on! It’s late, it’s cold, wear your scarf.”

“I’m not cold. I was busy.” He held up his pouch and gave it a little rattle. “Also, it’s a little warmer inside the cave.”

“Oh, is that so.” He didn’t say it like a question. Zavier turned as if to leave, took a few shuffling steps through the snow. Raguna eyed the tracks he was making and the ones he had already made and made a few of his own to catch up.

“Were you about to go inside?”

Zavier shot him a look out of the corner of his eye. “Of what, the cave?”

“Yeah, to come find me.”

Raguna thought he caught an eye roll. “Well, you came out and crashed right into me, so why would I need to?”

“All to ask me if cave crops get enough light.”

Zavier’s posture shifted in a way that suggested to Raguna that he had forgotten the initial impetus for this midnight excursion.

“They do, Zav,” Raguna said, bumping his shoulder against Zavier’s as they walked. “I promise, your turnips are fine. These caves aren’t air-tight, and they don’t tend to go very deep. Between the light that gets in that way and the torchlight, Carmite’s well-lit enough that I’ve had no problems growing anything in there. Plus,” he said, his mind wandering, “I get the feeling sometimes that there’s something… special, I guess, about the soil in these caves. Some kind of– I don’t know, energy or something. Helping the crops along. Something like that. I don’t know. Anyway.” Raguna was usually able to notice when Mist’s voice came out of his mouth and stop himself before he traveled too far along that train of thought.

(“Rosetta keeps telling me I sound like you when I talk about the farm!” Raguna told her one rainy afternoon.

“Does it sound like an insult when she says it?” Mist had asked, in that same lilting, neutral tone she used all the time, without missing a beat. Raguna didn’t know how to navigate that.)

“Oh yeah?” Zavier said as they walked, his hands in the pockets of that ill-fitting woolen coat he was wearing. “And where are all of these incredibly healthy cave-grown crops?”

“Oh, you haven’t seen ‘em. They’re farther in Carmite than you ever hang out.” Raguna couldn’t help giving Zavier another bump with his shoulder, shooting him a wry smile. “I’ve got some plants in there that have been giving me strawberries pretty steadily for… almost a year now, actually.”

“What?” Zavier wrinkled his nose. “Alright, now I know you’re messin’ with me. There’s no way.”

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

“I bet the strawberries taste old and shriveled-up.”

“That’s not how plants work. You know what–” Raguna glanced around. Despite the ungodly hour, Raguna’s well of energy didn’t feel close to running dry. He took a deep breath– the clear, cold air made him feel giddy. Something was making him giddy, anyway. This would be a terrible idea.

He nudged Zavier again. “You haven’t been out here too long, right?”

“Me? Uh, nope.” Zavier held up his hands. “See, my fingers aren’t even red yet.”

His nose, however, was. Raguna smiled. “Fine. I’ll prove it, if you’re not about to fall asleep. Real quick, in and out. I’ll even let you taste one of the ripe ones.”

Zavier’s eyes widened, and Raguna thought he saw him shiver. “Into Carmite? Now?”

Grinning, Raguna looped the scarf around Zavier’s neck. “It’s nice and warm in there. And weren’t you all ready to mount a heroic rescue mission into Misty Bloom for me? I’d hate for you to have come all this way with no adventure to show for it.”

Zavier’s red face bloomed into a full, crooked-toothed smile. “Well, when you put it like that.”

~

The next morning, Lady Ann insisted that her two kids stick around for a full sit-down breakfast. This was largely due to the fact that one of her kids was not present for such a breakfast.

He had tried to get back home as early as he could, really, he did. As it was, he passed Sharron on his way in and almost jumped out of his mom’s coat. She raised a thin eyebrow and gave him a small, amused smile, but said nothing as she slipped past him and into the cold winter morning. Where was her overcoat, he wondered.

For about a minute, he thought he had actually pulled it off. Creeping carefully back up the stairs, not a single squeaky board disturbed, breath still in his lungs. But his room was pretty far from the staircase, and damn, his sister had always been an early riser. The sound of quiet sobs and feet padding against the floor chilled his blood more than the draft.

And the sight of his mother, with her wrinkled nightgown, unbrushed hair, and the fury of a thousand armies on her face: “Tell me why your sister woke me up this morning absolutely positive that you were dead in a half-frozen lake.”

Zavier groaned into his hands.

“We were about to begin gathering a… a search party,” Tori said miserably, eyes rimmed red.

He felt like his tongue was swelling in his mouth. “You really thought I actually drowned?”

Tori was looking at him like she wanted to drown him herself. “Well, you would,” she said. “You can’t blame me for wondering. And, and that’s exactly what would have happened if this were…” She hiccupped. “A story. After what I said before you left.”

“I can’t believe this.”

Her gaze traveled downward. “And you would have taken my winter boots with you,” she finished, so despondent Zavier had to laugh.

He choked on it. His mother’s finger was inches away from his nose. “Don’t,” she threatened. “You think this is funny?”

“I think this is stupid,” he tried, against anyone’s better judgment. He could feel the air draining out of the room. “I go into the caves all the time, Mom, you know that, and I’m always fine!”

“You left in the middle of the night. You did not tell anyone where you were going.” His mom was getting animated, moving her arms around in the sharp, wide motions she used when telling stories to entertain customers. “And what’s our rule about camping overnight?”

“Mom.”

“You tell me first. Baby, it’s not hard.”

Zavier’s mind jumped to a similar lecture he had received only days ago. People who care about you. A whole family. It occurred to Zavier, in a funny, morbid way, that if he had drowned in the middle of the night, and his mom and sister had rallied a search party, he he could bet money on the guy who would have ended up finding his body first.

“I wasn’t alone,” he tried. “And I didn’t mean to stay out all night, honest. But at least I wasn’t alone?”

Tori’s eyebrows scrunched downward at the exact second his mom’s brows shot upwards.

Zavier wanted to shove his sister’s winter boot all the way down his throat.

“You will sit down,” his mother said. “And you will tell us all about it. Over eggs.” Lady Ann pulled out a chair with a squeak against the wooden floor.

There was no room for argument.

“I’m making Zavier cook mine,” Tori mumbled.

~

He didn’t fully know how it happened. He was pretty sure he had said something stupid, first, like, Oh, I don’t wanna go back out into the cold or Man, I could fall asleep right here.

Raguna's fingers had been stained pink, Zavier remembered. You want your old sleeping bag? he had said, or something like that. Got it with me right here. I fixed it up a little, did I ever tell you that?

No, he had not, and yes, Zavier demanded to see it that instant. And before Raguna had even rolled it out all the way, Zavier was sticking his arms inside the opening as far as they could go and telling Raguna how insanely soft this was, how was he not using this sleeping bag every night, there was no way his bed could ever be more comfortable, and was there any way he could pay Raguna to make one for Zavier to use this nice?

Raguna had smiled, and he had laughed, and he told Zavier that he wouldn't mind if Zavier tried it out that night, not one bit.

And sure, Zavier had clammed up a little bit there, asked him if he was sure. In a super casual way, of course.

Raguna just flicked a strawberry stem at him and said, Well, even if you don't, Zav, I think I will.

”Wait, so...“ Tori said, taking a sip of milk. She was calmer, now, with food in her belly, but Zavier could still see the steel glint of a grudge in her eyes. ”You slept in Raguna's sleeping bag... and he left?“

“Nah, we both stayed there. And the bag was mine first, also.” Zavier shoveled a forkful of his breakfast into his mouth, peeking out the window to see how high the sun had climbed already. “Didn't I say that? Yeah, it was pretty cool. Just hanging out, y'know. Got some time to swap stories.”

Tori furrowed her brow and tilted her head to the side, a motion as neat and precise as a doll's. “You didn't... make him sleep on the damp cave floor, did you?”

“'Course not. I, um–” Zavier said, slowing. “Didn't.”

Tori hmmmed in a way that made Zavier feel like he was seven. Lady Ann clinked a fingernail against her plate. “Where did Raguna sleep, Zavier?” she asked, and Zavier had a vision of a Chipsqueek caught in a snare.

Zavier cleared his throat. He took a long sip of water. His family watched as he drained the cup dry. When he set it down, he cleared his throat again.

“He had two,” Zavier said. “Sleeping bags.”

“He did not,” Tori said into her cup.

“He did so. You don't know.”

“Ahh.” Zavier's mom folded her hands under her chin and stage-whispered to his sister. “Sounds like maybe stories weren't the only things that were swapped.”

“Mom.”

“Wh…” Tori's face was berry-red, but the secondhand mortification could only delay her participation in the humiliation of her brother. “What will we tell Mist? She'll be heartbroken.”

“Tori, I swear–”

“Seems to me,” Lady Ann said, her face stern but her tone completely changed, “like the only decent thing to do next is invite the poor young man for dinner. Do you think he could make it this Friday?” She stood and began collecting plates.

Zavier was making one of those faces that he knew was kind of ridiculous, but couldn't stop making once he realized he was doing it. “Mom,” he said, trying to imbue his words with as much reason as he could muster. “I'm not bringing Raguna here for dinner. There's no way.”

His mom stopped for a moment and placed a hand over her heart, a gesture that Zavier knew was exactly as genuine as the imitation paintings Lukas picked up for three hundred gold in some marketplace and hung in his room “for inspiration.” “Are you embarrassed of us, baby?”

“I don’t know what you think happened, but you’re making this weird, and I don’t think–”

“More likely... embarrassed that Raguna will see the state of his room...” Tori mumbled into her cup.

“I have never been embarrassed about anything in my life,” Zavier said, in a tone that felt so forced it should have looped back around to sounding convincing. Rigidly, he stood, kissed his mom matter-of-factly on the cheek, and walked so casually into his room. A minute later, he exited, sans pajamas, slung Raguna's scarf over his shoulders, and wordlessly made his way to the staircase.

“Ask him if he likes fish or vegetable soup better,” Lady Ann called to him from the table.

Zavier made sure the sound of his groan made its way to her.

~

Zavier absolutely could not ask Raguna.

If he did, it would sound like he was using his family as some lame excuse, and that he actually wanted Raguna to come over for dinner, which he– well, it wasn't that he didn't, necessarily, that wasn't quite right. But if he pretended that it was his idea, there was a high chance that his mom would say something at dinner that would reveal that it had not been his idea to have Raguna over for dinner, and that would also be lame. Zavier didn't know which eventuality would be worse.

And he couldn't just say that it was really his mom who wanted him to come over. Zavier wouldn't even believe that in Raguna's place.

As it was, Zavier wasn't saying much of anything today. Their morning conversation had been brief, almost stilted. They talked of the weather and the windchill and the weeds. They talked of the turnips, the little sprouts peeking their heads up above the damp soil. Tiny things, spring-green in the dead of winter. Zavier felt like he couldn’t look away, and he didn't know how long he could have stared at them if he was alone, but he didn't know if Raguna was watching him watch his plants and he didn't want to make it weird by glancing over his shoulder to watch Raguna watching him–

So now he was watching Raguna fight some monsters. The malformed, regenerating machine, many times destroyed and many times returned, churned out ant after ant, and Raguna brought his axe down onto each. He had the rhythm down to a science; he barely even needed to move his feet, he understood so well where the next summoned creature would appear. It was kind of brutal. Again: Zavier felt like he couldn’t look away.

“Why'd you pick ants?” Zavier called from his perch atop a rock that was less pointy than the others.

Raguna shrugged, shoulders bobbing slightly before lifting the axe above his head once more. A minor idiosyncracy in the beat. “Dunno,” he said. “Sometimes I wonder–” His sentences were fragmented, chopped apart alongside the monsters. “–if I stick with it long enough, maybe they'll leave something– different behind before they go. Interesting. Something I haven't seen yet.”

Zavier let the quiet grow for a moment. And then: “And you think ants are going to give that to you?”

Raguna let out a breathy wheeze of a half-laugh. The rest of his air left him with the down-swing of his axe.

And the conversation died out again. The sound of Raguna’s axe blade against the chitin of the monsters made an odd sound– more of a crunch than a slice– that filled the corridors of the cave, up to the low, low ceilings and around each corner.

“Raguna?”

Crnch. “Yeah?”

“Can I ask you somethin'?”

Crnch. “Go for it.”

“Do you–” Crnch. “What... which do you like better, um,” Crnch, “fish soup or vegetable soup?”

His voice trailed downwards at the end of the question; his eyes did the same. His head snapped up again, though, at the screeching of metal on metal. Scrrrr-chnk.

Sparks danced around the handle of Raguna's axe where it hung, embedded at the base of a long gash in the machine's flank. In one fluid motion, Raguna retrieved his weapon and took a feather-light shuffle-step to the side, landing just far enough away that the puff of flame and grease would have been nothing more than a wave of warmth against his face.

When the monster-summoning machine was nothing more than a few scraps of metal and a stain on the ground, Raguna turned to search Zavier’s eyes. “What,” he said, halfway to a grin, “you planning to make me something?”

“Hypothetically.” Zavier said. “Just, like, a what-if kind of thing.”

“Oh, gotcha.”

“It’s for a survey, actually. I’m gonna, uh, ask everyone in town? Tally up the results, that kind of thing. You know. Market research.”

“Oh, for the inn?” That’s cool.”

“Uh-huh, yep.”

“Which is in the lead so far, fish or vegetables?”

“Well,” Zavier paused. “You’d be the first person I’ve asked. So far.”

“Ah.” Raguna’s mouth twisted in a way that was becoming very familiar to Zavier. “Okay. I don’t dislike either, but if I had to choose, I think I’d say vegetable soup.”

“Good to know.” Zavier gave what felt like a pretty business-done kind of nod while he thought of any other direction he could steer the conversation.

“Do you have to, like, write it down, or anything?”

“Got it all up in here.” Zavier tapped his temple. “Locked away.”

And there went his mouth again. “Right.”