
by Andrew Ratnikov
For four years, Bren walked into villages with a ledger and an escort and talked people out of their harvests. The war is over now, and he wants exactly one thing: a patch of ground past the old wall, far enough from everyone that nothing he grows can be taken. Foghollow has other plans. The valley is filling up with people from both sides of the war — neighbours who were enemies a few years ago and haven't quite decided what they are now. There's Sela, who asks which side he fought on, doesn't like the answer, and teaches him to read her soil anyway. Hana, the innkeeper, who trusts nobody and is usually right. Maren, the herbalist, who handles poisonous fungi barehanded and has her own reasons for not talking about the war. And there's Eight, Bren's eight-legged construct, built to haul stolen grain and now mostly used as a climbing frame by the village children. But rumours are coming up the road, a hungry stranger keeps appearing at the edge of Bren's field, and the storms rolling down from the abandoned imperial lands are getting worse. By harvest, Foghollow will find out what it's made of — and Bren will have to decide whether the quiet life he came for was ever meant to be lived alone. A warm, low-stakes fantasy about second chances, good soil, and the people who notice when you're gone.›
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