Raguna looked up at Mist, his saviour, with awe. However, upon looking at his tools, the various stumps, and then his rusty axe in particular he cast her a questioning glance.
"Mist, how am I supposed to plough the field when it's covered in stumps?"
She tilted her head to the side, giving him a look that clearly read: isn't is obvious?
"Use the axe."
Raguna looked down at the rusty tool. The handle was jagged and the blade nearly dull and lopsided and loose. One hard swing and the blade looked ready to take flight.
"Yeah, but...well, this axe is pretty old," he started carefully. He may be an amnesiac, but he wasn't ungrateful or without tact.
"I feed you and quench your thirst, give you tangible-though awful-land that will take a long time to fix cause your tools suck, figured out you're an earthmate, and just tricked you into becoming a farmer to become my turnip slave and you want more!?" she asked agitatedly, as if Raguna were having a love affair that involved mauling turnips to some strange turnip-hating-deity.
Raguna sweatdropped, "Ummm...yes?"
"Get to work, you broke beggar."
Raguna watched as the strange blonde daintily walked several steps before coming back over to him, shoving turnip seeds into his hands, and then went back on her way.
Raguna stared down at the turnips, then at his tools, and then at the stump-littered field, before repeating the process a few times over. He eventually sighed and got to work on doing what Mist wanted.
He'd have to find someway to fix his rusty axe, or Mist would have his head both literally and metaphorically, damn it.