In the forest, sunlight filtered gently through layers of leaves, scattering across the fertile soil below. Tyler knelt on the ground, carefully pressing seeds into the earth with practiced movements. His hands moved steadily, almost instinctively, as if his body already knew the rhythm of farming better than his mind did.
Beside him, Chole squatted quietly, watching his every action with focused attention.
"Be careful with this one," Tyler said, brushing dirt over a row of freshly planted seeds. He gestured toward a cluster of herbs growing nearby. "That's Shy Songgrass. Its leaves curl up very easily."
He gently demonstrated, using two fingers to open one of the curled leaves.
"When the wind passes through it, the grass makes a strange sound, almost like singing. That's how it got its name," Tyler continued. "But when the leaves stay curled for too long, it interferes with its growth. At times like this, you need to help open them manually."
