Late Spring Bounty

Dawn broke over the orchard settlement in a hazy swath of gold, the sun inching its way across the rows of farmland that had once been ravaged by raids and undead. Now, in the budding warmth of late spring, newly planted fields were yielding a remarkable surplus of vegetables—a welcome surprise to the community that had lived on razor-thin rations not long ago. Even in the face of lingering infiltration fears and leftover sabotage mysteries, the orchard's morale lifted at the promise of fresh produce.

Leila stepped out from the orchard's main gate just after first light, scanning the horizon where farmland stretched, newly green with rows of leafy stalks and nascent blossoms. Tamsin's watchers had finished the night shift, quietly handing off infiltration checks to the morning crew. Harriet's group and orchard staff, carrying baskets and makeshift trolleys, gathered around a fenced-off corner of farmland. The orchard donkey, harness jingling, stood at the ready, chewing grass in a contented hush.

Fiona and Mark greeted Leila near a row of tall, broad-leafed plants. Fiona's excitement shone in her eyes. "This field was re-planted just a few arcs ago, using Redwood's gifted seeds. They sprouted faster than we expected—look!" She gestured at plump zucchini, clusters of tomatoes, and bright peppers peeking beneath broad leaves.

Mark nodded, orchard donkey stamping its hoof behind him. "We've got enough for a real communal harvest. We can fill orchard stores with new vegetables, maybe trade some with Redwood or Willow Bend. It's a big step for the orchard."

Leila folded her arms, maintaining a guarded stance. "That's good. But we don't lower our defenses. Infiltration might remain a threat, and we still don't know who's behind the minor thefts in the storerooms."

Fiona exhaled, orchard donkey letting out a soft bray as though in agreement. "We know, Leila. But can we at least let orchard staff enjoy this moment? Fresh produce after so much tension?"

Leila hesitated, orchard watchers posted along the orchard fence line. The orchard donkey, harnessed to a small cart, flicked its ears at the mild chatter of orchard staff. She recalled infiltration nightmares, sabotage attempts that nearly destroyed them. But the bright green leaves of the thriving crops beckoned—a tangible hope that reminded her how far they'd come.

She pursed her lips, nodding slowly. "Fine. We do a harvest day, but watchers remain vigilant. Tamsin's faction can stand guard while orchard staff collect vegetables."

News spread quickly that a communal harvest was happening in the orchard's new field. By mid-morning, orchard staff and Harriet's group converged on the farmland rows, baskets in hand, orchard donkey trotting along with a small cart for heavier loads. Tamsin's watchers split between infiltration checks at the orchard gate and scanning farmland edges for sabotage or undead. The orchard donkey's bridle jingled in a soft, reassuring rhythm as orchard workers guided it through the fields.

Laughter and subdued cheer surfaced as orchard staff reached under thick leaves, drawing out vibrant zucchini, crisp lettuces, or plump tomatoes. The orchard donkey brayed occasionally, orchard watchers quietly meandering the perimeter. Harriet's group worked alongside orchard staff, each pair filling baskets. Even Tamsin's watchers, typically aloof, allowed a faint smile at the orchard donkey's mild comedic snorts.

Leila stepped carefully through the neat rows, her boots brushing loose soil. The orchard donkey plodded behind Mark, who collected a batch of peppers. Fiona called out instructions for gently handling the more delicate vegetables. Every so often, orchard staff would exclaim at a particularly large cucumber, orchard donkey huffing in faint approval when one was dropped into the cart.

Behind the flickers of excitement, watchers remained cautious—keeping infiltration at bay. Leila noticed Harriet's group exchanging polite nods with Tamsin's watchers, orchard staff minding the orchard donkey's harness. She recognized that the orchard's synergy, though tested by infiltration rumors, was on display here. We can breathe, at least a little, she thought, glancing at the orchard donkey nibbling a stray leaf.

Despite the orchard's communal harvest spirit, Leila refused to fully relax. Each time orchard staff teased her about the abundant peppers or joked about the orchard donkey wanting to sample a tomato, she offered a faint, guarded smile. We've had infiltration attempts, leftover sabotage, and an unknown mole still unaccounted for, she told herself. We can't let our guard down.

Fiona caught her tension, orchard donkey braying as if noticing it too. "Leila," Fiona said quietly, setting a basket of zucchinis aside, "it's okay to acknowledge this victory. We have watchers posted, infiltration checks ongoing, no sign of sabotage so far."

Leila swallowed, orchard donkey's harness jingling as it moved to the next row. "I know. I just… can't help expecting the worst. Every time we celebrate, infiltration or a raid has blindsided us."

Fiona's expression softened, orchard staff weaving between them. "Yet we keep surviving. The orchard is stronger than infiltration if we stay unified. Let yourself savor this harvest—just for a moment."

Leila offered a reluctant nod, orchard donkey looking as though it nodded in tandem. She gazed at the lush greenery, recalling how the farmland once lay ravaged by undead or sabotage. Now, it blossomed with late-spring bounty. Maybe a moment of hope isn't so dangerous.

Later in the afternoon, orchard watchers took rotation, orchard donkey half-loaded with baskets of produce. Harriet's group and orchard staff chatted in hushed excitement about what to do with the surplus—pickle some, distribute fresh portions, or store them in the orchard's newly reinforced storerooms. Tamsin's watchers hovered near the orchard donkey, ensuring infiltration or sabotage didn't exploit the bustle.

Kai, having finished a perimeter check, approached Leila as she oversaw orchard staff carefully loading crates into the donkey's cart. He carried a light bag of peppers, orchard donkey flicking its tail as he neared. He offered a mild grin. "Impressive yield, isn't it?"

She nodded, orchard donkey letting out a small bray as though joining the conversation. "It is. Better than we expected—a bright spot amid infiltration fears."

Kai's gaze held a subtle warmth. "You can celebrate small wins without ignoring sabotage possibilities. It doesn't mean letting your guard down completely."

She inhaled, orchard donkey's harness jingling as orchard staff tied it more securely. He's right, she thought, chest tight with that old longing to trust him more deeply. "I appreciate your perspective," she managed, voice hushed. "It's just… Jace's betrayal once came when I felt safe."

His expression gentled, orchard watchers passing behind them, orchard donkey fidgeting. "I know. But this orchard is different now—we're watchful, we have alliances, the orchard donkey is well-fed," he added wryly, coaxing a rare small chuckle from her. "Let yourself see the hope in it."

She found herself smiling faintly, orchard donkey giving an almost comedic snort. "Alright," she said quietly. "We gather crops side by side, but keep watchers posted. That's as close to a celebration as I can manage."

Kai nodded. "I'll take it." He stepped forward, gently setting his peppers into the donkey's cart. Their arms brushed for a fleeting moment—a subtle spark—but she stiffened only slightly, orchard donkey's wide brown eye watching them curiously. This is enough for now, she told herself, ignoring the flutter in her heart.

For the next hour, orchard staff, Harriet's group, and watchers all pitched in, orchard donkey hauling produce from field to field. Tamsin's watchers, though paranoid about infiltration, recognized the orchard donkey's comedic patience—it never complained despite the load. Tamsin herself, arms folded at a distance, supervised infiltration checks, occasionally allowing a small nod of approval.

Leila and Kai worked wordlessly in synergy—she handed him baskets, he loaded them onto the orchard donkey's cart. They exchanged fleeting glances, orchard donkey braying at intervals, orchard watchers on the perimeter. The orchard had not felt this communal synergy since before infiltration rumors reemerged.

Eventually, orchard watchers called for an end to the harvest for the day, orchard donkey fully laden, orchard staff beaming at the vegetable haul. Harriet's group parted with orchard watchers, orchard donkey trotting back to the orchard's storage area, Tamsin's watchers covering them from behind. The orchard's hush was tinged with cautious optimism—they had produce, they had unity, infiltration fears not forgotten but momentarily overshadowed.

As dusk gathered, orchard watchers escorted the orchard donkey into a storage yard, orchard staff unloading crates of fresh vegetables. Fiona and Mark debated how best to distribute the surplus—some for immediate use, some for trade, some for long-term storage. Harriet's group offered help, infiltration checks still a formality.

Leila stood by, orchard donkey braying as orchard staff removed the last baskets. Her chest felt lighter than usual. Yes, infiltration might still lurk, leftover sabotage unanswered, but the orchard had a moment of hope in this late-spring bounty. She recognized that in simpler times, she would have fully embraced such a small victory. Now, caution warred with the desire to exhale in relief.

Kai approached once more, orchard watchers drifting away for the evening shift. The orchard donkey nickered softly, orchard staff brushing its coat. He leaned in, voice low, the orchard's hush surrounding them. "You see? Even if infiltration creeps, we can still celebrate little triumphs."

She managed a soft, genuine smile, orchard donkey's muzzle pressed to a feed bag. "Yes, it's… encouraging. Thank you for the nudge."

The tension between them glowed, overshadowed but present, orchard watchers paying little attention as they cycled infiltration checks. She let the fleeting closeness remain unspoken, orchard donkey finishing its feed. We've found a measure of hope, she told herself. That's worth something.

Night soon fell, orchard watchers taking up torches along the orchard walls, orchard donkey dozing in the stable. Tamsin's watchers quietly reaffirmed infiltration protocols, Harriet's group turned in, orchard staff parted to rest. The orchard ended the day with produce overflowing in storerooms, infiltration fears muted by tangible abundance. And though Leila's guard remained high, a small corner of her heart recognized that each shared moment—each subtle brush of arms with Kai—brought her one step closer to trusting in love again.