Frozen Fields and Clovers

As the cold grip of winter steadily gave way to the gentle embrace of spring, the snow that clung to the outskirts of Burrowgatory began to melt, little streams and creeks bubbling back to life. Though new growth had already begun to appear, winter hadn't completely left the realm and the melting snow would raise new challenges for the farmers to deal with (flooded fields, for example). Some nights were still cold enough for structures holding any moisture to freeze – something that could cause damage if left unchecked.

Eventually, it would be warm enough for some crops to begin sprouting and others to be planted. For now, the weather would be a fitful mix of back and forth – sometimes pleasant, sometimes bitterly cold again. Kyanite found himself stranded in a tavern one day due to a surprise blizzard – as inconveniencing as it was, he wouldn't trade it for the calmer weather of the cities (they were bogged down by suspicious organizations, so it evened out).

Throughout the blizzard, Kyanite enjoyed pleasant conversation and drinks with his peers – many were impatient for winter to be finally over. He had to agree – he wasn't very good at handling the cold and this winter's snow had been unusually aggressive. Thankfully, it didn't tend to reach him in his part of the woods much. Leaving the others to go sit by the fireplace, Kyanite thought about the work ahead.

The farmers would probably need a few extra hands in dealing with the snow melt, this year. On top of that, there was the emergence of clover and other plants: clover had some medicinal properties and was used in some traditional cures – or was simply used as a nice snack or tea flavoring. Whatever it was used for, clover was popular among the villages, even drawing quite a few tourists from the big cities.

Those from the cities were more interested in looking for four-leaf clovers, though many would be quickly discouraged and leave empty-handed. Or, well – not completely empty-handed – there was always the various clover-based goods in town they could buy. Whatever they desired – they were so noisy and intrusive, and Kyanite had the feeling the townsfolk were left feeling a little worn out after the tourists had come and gone. Kyanite wasn't really looking forward to it, but such was the cycle of things, he supposed.

As Kyanite stared into the fireplace, the feeling of wriggling snapped him out of his thoughts. Turnip – one of his rabebe companions – wiggled out of his scarf, pressing the top of its head against Kyanite's chin. Amused, Kyanite reached up to give the rabebe a gentle pat. Ever since he'd found Turnip some years ago, Kyanite had wound up finding two more rabebe (currently back in his house). Hutch had joked that perhaps Kyanite was a rabebe magnet. As endearing as they were, Kyanite wasn't sure he wanted that to be true – three was quite enough for him. At least imps don't require any sort of sustenance.

“Dreadful weather out there, isn't it?” Kyanite said, cooing at Turnip – who sneezed in response. “When the snow stops, maybe I'll take you out for a walk to go look for clover.”

Turnip tilted its head at this, as if intrigued. The others tended to think Kyanite a little strange for being more talkative to an imp, but he was pretty sure that imps were capable of understanding at least some of what was told to them.

“Ah, but this is the first time I've taken you into town at this time of year, hm?” Kyanite said, humming. “I'm sure you've seen clover in the wild, but clover harvest can get quite spirited.”

Turnip sneezed a second time and bonked its head against Kyanite's neck. Despite the noisy crackling of the fireplace, Kyanite could just make out the quiet sound of clicks from Turnip – the sign of a happy rabebe. Moving back, Kyanite took a seat on a couch placed in front of the fireplace and curled up around Turnip. With the gentle warmth of the fireplace in front of him, Kyanite drifted off to sleep.

- - -

When Kyanite woke up again, sunlight was barely streaming into the tavern through the windows – the snow came up to about half of the door's height, sealing it thoroughly shut. One of the other tavern-goers managed to crack a window open and worm their way outside with a shovel and began digging an opening for the door. Once the door was open, Kyanite wandered outside to survey how bad it was.

Quite a few buns had already gotten to diligently shoveling pathways throughout the town or even using the combined hellfire flames from multiple buns to try and melt excess snow away (with little success). Further out from town, Kyanite could see that some of the fields – both crops and grasslands – had far less snow accumulated, somehow. Weather systems were so strange and specific sometimes. Before he would go off to frolic on his own, Kyanite went back into the tavern to check in with the owner.

“Is there anything I can help with? I see there is quite a lot to be shoveled outside.” Kyanite said, watching the tavern owner setting up for the day.

“Ah, good of you to offer. The lads have mostly gotten to it, it seems – but it wouldn't hurt to check with Mr. Daniels. He's usually in charge of this sort of thing.” The tavern owner said. “If he's got it covered, I suggest you help out with the clover gatherers.”

Kyanite nodded in thanks and left to go wade through the snow. Mr. Daniels was one of the more prominent figures of the town, part of a group that functioned a bit like a council or committee. They worked together to organize events, listen to concerns and feedback from the town, and manage resources, among other things. He actually introduced Kyanite to the various grain farmers, netting him a deal that had been going for nearly a decade strong. Mr. Daniels was gruff and intimidated most, but was really polite and very generous.

Mr. Daniels was thankfully not too difficult to find – despite the shoveling efforts from multiple buns, there was still much snow to slog through. Kyanite was wise enough to bring a waterproof outer layer, or he'd be soaked by now – and not in the pleasant way.

“Good morning!” Kyanite said, raising a hand in greeting. Mr. Daniels was leaning on his shovel, taking a brief break. He turned to Kyanite, a bit surprised to see him here.

“Ho, there! I didn't know you'd be in town. Did you get snowed in?” Mr. Daniels said.

“I'm curious about the clover harvest, but it looks like winter decided to be a little spiteful last night.” Kyanite said, smiling wryly. “Do your buns need any assistance in clearing this out?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kyanite could see the hellfire buns from before dancing frantically about. From the looks of it, they were attempting to use some actual burning fire, perhaps in hopes of shortening their workload – to some mildly painful results. Turnip was also watching this from the safety of Kyanite's scarf and made a sort of snuffling sound, almost as if in disapproval.

“It may not look like it, but we've got it under control. But, I appreciate it!” Mr. Daniels said, looking a little sheepish – he was probably aware of the hellfire antics. “Clover harvest, eh? Actually, the bun who usually manages that is unfortunately down with a cold. It's not really a rush, but if you could help us get a head start on the clovers, that would be mighty fantastic of you.”

“I'd love to do that.” Kyanite said, nodding. “Here's to hoping Briar has a speedy recovery. No doubt the clovers will be of aid to that as well.”

“I'll be sure to pass the well wishes to them when I check in on them later today. Thank you, Kyanite. Yer a helpful lad.” Mr. Daniels said. “Be careful of inkaps! Their goo will make the snow slippery.”

Kyanite made their way out of town, with quite a bit of effort. Despite the waist-deep snow, there were still a few buns lying about in their smaller forms, rolling around and carving immature shapes. As Kyanite got further from town, the snow gradually became easier to walk through until it was mostly irregular piles of slush scattered around.

The ground was still mostly bare but there were growing patches of green – ahead, near one of the forests, there were sizable fields of fuzzy grass. In a few weeks, there would be clovers, flowers, and vegetation a-plenty – but there would no doubt be far more buns to contend with, both from the nearby towns and the big cities. Despite the cold, Kyanite at least had some time to enjoy the solitude for a little longer.

From inside his scarf, Turnip made tugging motions at the fabric, making quiet squeaking noises. Pausing for a moment, Kyanite lifted the rabebe out of his scarf and looked it in the eyes.

“Do you want to walk alongside me?” Kyanite said. Despite its stubby limbs, Turnip was actually capable of keeping pace with Kyanite when he was walking – and he did not walk slowly. Turnip stared back at Kyanite and wiggled profusely, limbs kicking around in the air. Laughing softly to himself, Kyanite gently lowered Turnip to the ground next to him. Hopping onto the ground, Turnip ran a few circles around Kyanite, as if getting a feel for the ground, before settling into a place a few paces beside him.

“Well, if you ever get too cold, you know my scarf is always open to you.” Kyanite said, and he continued towards the grassier patches by the forest.

Usually, buns would have baskets for carrying the clover harvest, but Kyanite brought his own messenger bag which was sufficient enough. The flap that covered the main compartment had an additional pouch that was secured with a button – the clovers could go in here (there wasn't likely to be that many clovers yet, anyway).

Just as Mr. Daniels mentioned, a number of inkaps had been passing by recently and left puddles of goo, which mixed with the slushy puddles of snow to form watery, inky pools. Kyanite wondered if the stuff could possibly be used to write with – it certainly wasn't for eating.

While scanning the ground for clovers, Kyanite found his gaze falling onto an... egg? Kyanite did a double-take – what on earth could possibly lay eggs in Burrowgatory?

Turnip bounded over to the egg, throwing caution to the wind. Turnip was more or less similar in height to the egg, though was considerably rounder and wider (this was part of the reason behind its nickname: round like a turnip). Pointing its snout at the egg, Turnip seemed to sniff at the thing, nose twitching curiously. Curiosity getting the better of him, Kyanite knelt to get a closer look at the egg as well. Maybe someone from the village was hiding eggs early, for their spring festivals? But why was this one so plain?

There was a sudden squeak as Turnip pushed the egg a little too hard with its nose, and the egg started to tip over. The top of the egg suddenly separated, lifting up as a little yellow creature appeared, squirming about in attempt to not fall over. Reaching out, Kyanite placed a hand behind the egg and gingerly lifted it back into a standing position. The creature in the egg had floppy ears and a spade tail – it looked a bit like a baby succubun (if one squinted). The egg creature glanced between Turnip and Kyanite – squeaking profusely, it zipped back down, the top of the eggshell closing again with a click.

As if to bother the egg creature, Turnip bonked the side of the egg with its head. The creature appeared again, looking a little more irritated, squeaking at Turnip as if to scold it, and then retreating back into its shell. This exchange repeated several more times until Kyanite decided to intervene, picking the egg creature up entirely. Turnip seemed a little jealous of this and ran around in circles, honking indignantly.

“Oh hush, you.” Kyanite said, to Turnip – though he wasn't really all that cross. The egg creature wiggled about in its shell – though it would peek out of the egg, Kyanite couldn't quite get a look at the entire creature. He wondered how it usually moved – if it could even do that.

“I wonder if Hutch has any little ones shaped like you.” Kyanite said, wondering out loud. “I bet he'd be over the moon to meet something like you.”

The egg creature tilted its head inquisitively at the mention of Hutch. Did all imps just know about that bun? Now that he thought of it – he'd seen pictures of this imp type in books before – these were called egghels.

I really need to stop taking random imps home with me. Kyanite thought. He was about to put the egghel in his scarf when he remembered Turnip angrily running circles around his feet. He settled for putting the egghel in the outer flap pouch of his messenger bag instead.

“I'll call you... Melongena.” Kyanite said. “Mel for short.”

Melongena stared at him.

“It's the scientific name for eggplant.” Kyanite said, as if an imp would need this explained. Melongena made a warbled whistle-like noise and settled down in his bag. After some time, Turnip finally stopped running circles around Kyanite, and the now trio resumed the search for clovers.

Among the grasses, Kyanite could find little buds of wildflowers, the occasional inkap, and a lot of goo. Kyanite was in the middle of wondering if inkap goo was bad for clovers when he was distracted by the sound of Turnip squeaking aggressively, as if it was excited about something. He turned to see Turnip bouncing up and down manically. Intrigued, Kyanite followed Turnip a short distance into the forest.

At first, Kyanite thought Turnip was showing him a cluster of inkaps – but Turnip bounded over, squeaking noisily, as if to shoo the mushroom imps away. The inkaps shuffled lazily away, revealing a large patch of clovers at the foot of a tree. Melongena peeked out from its shell to see what the fuss was about.

Kneeling, Kyanite began picking clovers and putting them in the pouch along with Melongena. The egghel was momentarily confused as the bag pouch was now also occupied with a bunch of clover. Halfway through harvesting the patch – Kyanite noticed one of the clovers had four leaves – he wasn't really one for superstition, but he supposed it was a pleasant enough sign.

He put it in the bag along with the others, continuing the harvest. A second clover had four leaves. And a third. Kyanite squinted, wondering if he was seeing double, and counted several times.

In total, this patch had thirteen four-leaf clovers – as well as one that had six leaves. Kyanite sat down for a moment, staring at the now leaf-less patch of clover stems.

“Well, we may have had a bad night with a blizzard... but perhaps this is a sign that spring will be wonderful.” Kyanite said. His bag flap was about half-full of clovers – and he could store more in the main compartment. Glancing around, Kyanite could see that there were more patches of clover clustered around nearby trees. Steadily getting back to his feet, Kyanite set off to continue the harvest. Perhaps after he was done, he could go pay Briar a visit himself and personally deliver the clovers.