Grace and Albix wandered lazily hand in hand through the breesa orchards, stopping occasionally to pluck ripe fruit from trees here and there, depositing them in a small basket that he carried strapped to his chest. He'd whisper something in her ear, and she'd answer, leaning in closer to him. A half-eaten breesa hung low in her free hand.
Further off down the orchard, Descin introduced Kirk and Spock to a man who was pruning one of the trees with a small knife. He climbed down his ladder and pulled a branch out of a large tangled pile to show them. Kirk turned it around in his hands, passing it to Spock who studied it closely, peeling back some of the bark to see the wood underneath.
Albix took a few leaves from a branch and sprinkled them in Grace's hair. She laughed and batted them away, stumbling backwards onto the ground. She pulled him down with her and they both laughed together, gazing up at the sky.
Kirk, Spock, and Descin walked into a small outbuilding that housed a fruit press. They listened as he explained how it worked, showing them various levers and cranks.
Grace and Albix sat next to a small creek, their bare feet dangling in the cool water. She sighed, turning her face to the sun, a floppy straw hat on her head.
Kirk and Spock both sampled sliced breesa fruit from a small platter on a table in the pressing shed, seeming to enjoy it. Descin smiled in approval. A small insect buzzed around their heads, and Kirk waved and batted at it, while Spock stood stoically.
Grace slept peacefully, her head resting against Albix's shoulder. He too was napping, his arm protectively wrapped around her. They were both leaning against the back of a wooden bench next to the main doorway of his house.