Ah, it's been too long. Sorry I haven't updated in a while--I had a little bout of writer's block. Ugh. I squeezed this chapter out and I'll try to get another one done tomorrow after I write an essay, ha. I do hope you enjoy this little one, though, even though it's lacking dialogue :P

Disclaimer: I do not own Harvest Moon or any of its characters :3

Chelsea set her watering can down next to her first small plot of tomatoes, wiping her smudged face with her arm. She let out an exhausted sigh and glanced up at the boiling sun, wishing it could cool down a little bit; she was worried that her plants would dry out if this dry spell kept up for much longer.

It had been almost two weeks since Chelsea had taken over the farm, and she was proud of her work thus far: she'd managed to clear it of small debris and weeds, but the large stumps and boulders still stood. She had two plots of tomatoes and two plots of corn growing slowly in the dry soil. They weren't looking so peppy—in fact, she was noticing their rather brown coloring just that morning—but she was giving them as much water as she could before her arms ran out of strength.

Chelsea made her way over to the river on the west side of the ranch and rinsed her face off with a few splashes of its cool water. Feeling a little bit more refreshed, she stood up and headed down the path and into the "town."

Felicia had managed to get a few other people to move onto the island, along with getting boats to stop by regularly. A general store had been opened by a middle-aged man named Chen and his cute little boy, Charlie. There was also an old—but still very, very strong—carpenter named Gannon who'd moved in and would do any construction Chelsea needed done on the ranch. An animal shop had opened up, too. The owner, a sweet and homey woman named Mirabelle, had offered to give Chelsea her first chicken for free—Chelsea had to turn her down regretfully, though, seeing as how she didn't have a coop to keep the bird in. Mirabelle's daughter, Julia, was a beautiful and sweet girl, just like her mother. Chelsea had really taken a liking to her—in fact, Julia was the closest thing she'd had to a best friend in years.

Smiling faintly, Chelsea decided to make a stop at the animal shop to say good morning to her favorite friends.

"Chelsea, hey," Julia's ever-exuberant voice rang out as the farmer pushed open the door, "good timing. You're a good cook, yeah?"

"Um, I guess so," Chelsea replied, walking over to the kitchen area where her blonde friend stood. Her eyebrows shot up at the messy countertop—eggshells broken and scattered around, a hearty dusting of flour, a small puddle of what appeared to be melted butter—and she faced Julia. "Baking again?"

Julia grinned sheepishly, swiping a stray wisp of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. "Trying, Chelsea. Trying."

"Right." Chelsea nodded as she moved to get some towels, the corners of her mouth pulling up in an amused smile. "Let's see if we can salvage this. You were trying to make…?"

"Cookies," Julia said, helping to wipe up the mess.

"But I thought Elliot didn't like cookies." Chelsea teased, her face smug as she watched Julia for her reaction.

"What?" She frowned, her cheeks flushed, "I thought… But, when he helped me that one day, he said…"

"Ah, Julia," Chelsea said, shaking her head, "If you're going to make him a birthday present, I'd suggest stir-fried veggies."

Julia just nodded, pouting, as Chelsea continued to wipe down the counter. Honestly, Julia'd only just met Elliot and she was already head-over-heels… The farmer shook her head. She'd never understood how girls could get so obsessed with a guy—it just didn't make sense to her.

* * *

Vaughn frowned down at the assignment sheet in his hands. His Wednesdays and Thursdays were going to be spent on some island he'd never heard of before. Now, he wasn't particularly unhappy with the news—far from it, actually. He would have two more days of work a week, and that meant two more days of pay. Two more days of pay meant he could potentially move into a better apartment. Of course, the downside meant that he would only be spending Saturday and Sunday in said apartment, and when he left it alone for so long the bugs liked to get comfortable. He bit down on his cheek, contemplating silently. He decided he'd try it out—what was the worst that could happen?

No—scratch that. He didn't want to think about it.

He glanced at the white calendar pined up on his wall. It was the twenty-first, a Sunday. He would be leaving for Flowerbud Village in the morning, and then on Tuesday night he'd make the trip over to this new island. On Thursday he'd catch a boat out to Forget-Me-Not Valley and spend Friday there before heading back to the city that night.

He was a very busy man, but that's how he liked to keep it. His work was his life; the more work he got, the more he lived.

* * *

Plucking the last of the barely-ripened tomatoes off their vine, Chelsea sighed, looking it over. It was an orangish red with holes where insects had tried to eat the stiff flesh. Nearly all of the harvest had turned out like this, and there wasn't enough time left to plant more. There were only six days left in the season, and that was counting this harvest day. Her plots of corn had all withered away into nothing because of the dry spell.

All in all, it wasn't a very promising start. Chelsea would persevere, though—with enough hard work, anything would be possible. It had taken her mother well over a year to get her farm working well, and it was almost two years after that that she and Chelsea's father decided to get married.

Sighing, Chelsea walked the produce over to the shipping bin. She'd buy some seeds for fall with the money from her poor tomatoes and maybe have some better luck. She started down the road that led to town, her eyes watching her red boots kick up dust as she walked. She was just thinking about where she should be going when she walked right into someone—someone tall. She stumbled back a bit, dazed, before looking up in apology, silently praying to the Harvest Goddess that she hadn't run into Gannon. When she looked up and saw a pair of cool, purple eyes studying her, she was very surprised—this definitely wasn't Gannon.

* * *

Was he losing his mind, or was this really that same girl? That girl who always managed to find some trouble. That girl who was so clumsy, she should be dead. That girl who suddenly always seemed to be appearing in his life.

Yes, he thought grimly, this is that girl. She's got the same red bandana tied around her head, Goddess help me.

Hmmm, I feel as though I shouldn't have ended it there. I want some more dialogue, darnit! Ah, I suppose it'll come, eventually. So, anyways, please review and tell me that the fact that i wrote it after two in the morning shows, please :3

Thanks for reading! :D