Prologue

A/n: So I created this guy, Peter, in Save the Homeland. After several events, I decided that it was time to move. So, off to Tree of Tranquility it was! Then I came up with this plot idea. So that's the basis for the story. Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harvest Moon or any of its characters

Peter looked out over his farm. His crops were grown, his cows grazed over the fields, and the sun was setting over the horizon. It would be a perfect picture if not for the events that had occurred previously. Sure, Peter saved everyone by taking a picture of a butterfly. He was a hero. Anyone could have done it, but he was the one who planted the seed for the Blue-Mist flower. Some nature magazine noticed and made the island a wildlife preserve. None of that mattered to Peter. He only did it for Lyla.

Her sweet, pink hair always curled perfectly over her shoulders. Her cute little laugh was infectious. Everything about her was perfect. She always smiled and Peter could never be upset when he was around her. She helped change him, if only for a little while.

The city was Peter's first home. He had many, many girlfriends. Each one was worse than the last. Peter was, in simple terms, a player. "Who's that hot tamale?" "Hey baby-cakes, how you doin'?" Although he came off as a jerk, the ladies liked that aspect. He was a bad-boy. It was a good image. It worked for him.

His parents felt it was best for Peter to move onto the farm. It would help to get out excess energy. Their plan eventually succeeded. Peter loved his farm and the people on the island were wonderful. The girl's were pretty worthwhile too. Dia and Gwen provided a great challenge while Kate provided some easy action.

Then he met Lyla. Peter was ready to put everything aside just for her. He gave her everything she wanted. She even mentioned love a few times.

Peter even befriended Parsley for her. His whole body tensed when he thought of that plant hunter. What a dumb job anyway. Plants weren't all that interesting. How is it even possible to hunt a plant? Do you chase it with a net and a tranquilizer gun? Peter assumed that Parsley thought it was a way cooler way to say "botanist." It wasn't.

"I'm going after him. I'm going to tell him my feelings." Parsley went on a "journey" and Lyla thought that it would be awesome to run away with him. All those hours spent in her shop, all those times hunting down the most pristine flowers; finding the butterfly; saving the Island; all of it was for her. She didn't even notice him. The two had come back, happy as could be. Peter hadn't been to her shop in weeks.

Norman, one of his many chickens, looked up at him with wide, black eyes. He was Peter's first animal. Most people bond with their horses or their dogs, but Norman was special. Norman had a connection with Peter. Peter could pick Norman out from all of his chickens with one pass.

"I feel you, man." Peter nodded as he ran his hands over the smooth, white feathers. All he got in response was a cluck. "Be quiet! I know I'm here, pining over her, but I can't just leave. I have this farm. My parents won't let me go home and I can't abandon you. I'm stuck here." Norman tilted his head. "You think so? Alright then, t's settled."

Peter stood up and smiled. "I'm out of here."

"Thanks, Bob. I appreciate it." Peter shook the extremely buff man's hand. Bob scared Peter sometimes. He towered over him and could get pretty angry.

"Sure, Peter. I still don't understand why you didn't just sell that last chicken, though."

Peter jumped back and his eyes dilated. "Sell Norman! What's wrong with you? You're going to watch Norman until I can bring him to my new farm. This new farm doesn't come equipped with a barn or a coop. The person who runs the place must be a cheapskate. Anyway, he's been my only friend-"

"I'm your friend, Peter. I gave you that horse and those riding lessons. You gave me some milk yesterday too and I really appreciated-"

"Quiet, Bob! He's been my only friend here and I can't bear to sell him. Understood?"

"Got it."

With that, Peter left the shop. There was no one left to say goodbye to. Sure, the people on the island were nice, but the only real relationship he had was with Lyla. His animals were sold, the last of his crops were given away, and he had taken care of Norman. It was time to leave. Peter swung his rucksack over his shoulder and began the long journey to the dock.

"Waffle Island, here I come."