Thanks so much. You're all so nice. Sorry for your confusion, Ekoaleko, it's not N64, it's FoMT… it's just that I was confused as to why Cliff never had Cain in BTN and FoMT. If you keep reading my fics, you'll notice that I often include stuff from other games… XD It's just… I felt like it. I see both Cliff and Ann as animal lovers, really, and stuff. Sorry. D: I feel bad. ;;

Oh, and this is set about a year before Jack moves in.

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I do most of the shopping for the inn. Everyone in town gets their daily shipping from Zach. See, every time our shipping arrives, we get a sheet of paper, with all the things we can order from it. I order the obvious stuff, like eggs, milk, mayonnaise, cheese and the vegetables.

It's really good, home grown food from the quaint little farm near the forest, Moondrop farm. It's named that because supposedly before the farm was built, the area was just a huge field of Moondrop flowers. I can just imagine the flowers glowing in the rays of sunshine. There are a few stray Moodrops on the farm, but not enough to live up to its name. That's why we didn't call it that. We called it Jock's place.

Farmer Jock was the man behind the fresh food that was delivered to our door every day. It was his hands that milked the cow that produced the fresh creamy milk; it was him that bred those chickens that produced the luxury eggs; it was his hard work that produced the glossy vegetables. You could hardly believe a man so old could do that! He's the backbone of our village.

It's me that ticks off the products every morning on that sheet, and calculates the price, and fetches the money, while Zach leans on the counter impatiently, as he has many other customers to attend to. But we're always the biggest buyers, since we own the local inn.

I also shop at the Supermarket, just to buy big brand type of food and essentials like flour, chocolate, oil, y'know. And then sometimes I pay a trip to Jock's place, where there's bound to be something good on his little farmer's stall. He didn't mind you just coming without notice.

That's what I did the day after Cliff and Cain arrived. It was a cold, miserable day, and I was hurrying along, my umbrella being swooshed and squeezed into painful shapes and sizes. I scrunched my face up so my hair wouldn't flick around my face, and I pulled my very ladylike – too ladylike – cream trench coat's hood further down my head. I rushed down the red cobbles, and opened the gate gently.

Of course, even in this weather the farm managed to look ridiculously idealistic. Whilst the rest of town looked miserable with soggy snow, Jock's place looked like a winter wonderland, although even here the jolly festive feeling had withered away. Still, it looked lively and fresh, as though welcoming a New Year. I glanced at the glowing windows from behind my snow-frosted eyelashes. Even the wind wasn't blowing as much, and the snow here was a gentle, light fall. The pristine fields were thick with snow, and the scarecrow had been sculpted into a snowman.

I looked around for Jock, or his wife Nina. Nina was never seen very often, but she was a sweet old lady, though quiet. The type that knits contentedly and likes flowers and repeats old jokes and still has her wedding dress. Jock was also a stereotypical sort of old man too – the outgoing man who smokes a pipe and reads a newspaper every morning, and uses expressions like "dandy" and talks about the good old days. It's very endearing in a stereotypical sort of way.

So I knocked on the door. Jock answered it, and if you were ever around Jock you'd know why Nina was unnoticed. Jock squished Nina in a conversation. He was loud, funny, rude and very, very enticing.

But the main reason why no one Nina never went out was because she was ill.

Nina was somewhat related to Lillia, somewhere along the lines, third cousins, I believe. They look alike, the hair especially. But there was some sort of hereditary disease in their family. Lillia had it, Nina had it, and a lot of women in their family did. Even Popuri held a risk against it. No one ever talked about it but supposedly it wiped the energy out of your body, leaving you frail and weak. And the worst thing was, you lead a very old life with it, as it got worse and worse, see.

Nina was very old.

'Why hello there, m'girl! Ann! Is that you? Why, you've grown! Do come in!' Jock exclaimed delightedly. The fire was crackling, and something was cooking. I sniffed deeply, and figured it was stew. I felt a bit quiet when Jock was around. I shook my umbrella again.

'Hi Jock! Hi Nina!' I greeted them, taking off my coat. It was even more idealistic in here, with the old fashioned everything. I perched politely on a chair. Nina smiled. 'How – how are you, dear?' she asked, with a surprisingly smooth voice. She had a plump, kind face, with shining eyes full of youth and curly, bouncy white hair. The rest of her body was weak and frail. She was pruning some sort of tree – I know she was a florist or something when she was younger.

'Fine thank you. I was just thinking, my papa really would appreciate some bread, and some flowers for the hotel – and maybe, maybe some… birdfeed?' I suggested pleasantly. Jock was never suspicious.

'Of course! What a fine idea!' Nina exclaimed in a breathy voice, with a sigh.

'I quite agree. Is that what kids these days eat? I'll go out and get you some!' Jock replied, with a grin, tipping his hat.

It took me a while to figure out that he thought I was going to serve birdfeed at the inn. I smiled and nodded. He was smoking a pipe and he had a round pale face. He wore a brown baker boy cap; overalls tucked into polished boots and a check shirt. He wore a dandy brown jacket that matched the hat. He always seemed to smile, Jock did. If you hadn't guessed, Jock wasn't his real name. He went into his larder in which bountiful goods seemed to pour out of.

Then I looked at Nina, and noticed her near transparent skin. Her little hands working away at the pruning. I looked at the black and white photos of the jolly, lively plump woman in them. It was hard to believe it was the same woman. She was still very lively, but she didn't really have the strength to be.

'Y'know, Nina; you should really come on over to the inn!' I exclaimed, being a little disconcerted when she didn't look up. 'We could probably reserve you a really nice table!'

She did look up, and I think she maybe hadn't heard me the first time. Her bright eyes sparkled. 'Well, well – that … that would be perfectly lovely! But Jock really does get a little … well … well, silly when he has a drink.'

'Can a man not like his ale?' he called out from the larder. 'Well, Nina – I think you and I should go to more special places together. That's a fine idea, Ann.'

He stepped out and brought back a loaf of bread, some pretty moondrops, and a small packet of birdfeed, with some complementary vegetables. Food was scarce in the winter, so I was pleased at the turnips and tomatoes he had donated so kindly. I thanked, clattered down at least 1000G and peered inside the stew, and couldn't resist commenting that fish always made stew taste better.

I grabbed my umbrella and coat, and waved goodbye to them.

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I am Quite Pleased with this chapter. So long, but I had to keep it long to include all the stuff. I promise it won't be so long next time. See how I included Nina in my story, I do that a lot. D: I like to relate them together.