The clock struck six in the morning, vibrating furiously as an obnoxious tune filled the tiny attic. Kisa swung her legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing her tired eyes. The smell of fresh baked treats wafted about the room, guiding her downstairs and into the workroom. A few of her employees had shown up early that day, and were already busying themselves baking. By twelve 'o clock, the kitchen would be full, fridges stocked, and customers dropping in. She fluffed her black ringlets, grasping them tightly and twisting them into a strict bun. She wrenched her apron from the mahogany coathanger and headed for a row of fridges stationed on the western wall, tieing the apron strings as she walked. Several were fully stocked, wheras others contained little more than a few muffins and a tart. She turned on her heel and supervised carefully, watching as the ingredients were mixed and the goods packed in her trademark lightpink boxes and stacked in the corner. Everything was running smoothly; her employees had been with Kisa from the start, and so she rarely bothered to check up on them. But it was morning and she had quite a bit of time to pass. Even during the daytime, when her shop was not busy, she would take a quick break. Kisa trudged over to the huge stacks of packed pastries, picking them up one at a time, and hauling them into the front room, where the goods were sold. She placed them on a polished wood counter and kneeled down, opening the glass display case with a special key. Carefully she set them in, making sure to prop the pretty boxes up, so that the customers could see into the tiny transparent paper window on each package. Each one lay upon a lace-trimed cloth on the glass shelves of the display in neat rows. She thanked Tierra Robada's frigid winters for the snowflakes that inspired the frilly designs. One by one she carried the packages in and out of the kitchen, storing them in the display. A half hour later the case was full, and everything else was to be stored in the fridges. She dropped back into the workroom, where her subordinates were busying themselves with the treats. Something felt odd; a cold chill ran up her spine as she glanced around at their stony faces. They knew it, too. Tierra Robada was in trouble. The prospect of her beloved homeland being torn down to support an amusement park sickened her. She discarded the scandelous thought, banishing it to the deepest pit in her stomach. Nobody had spoken since yesterday when the ominious news had arrived. Kisa backed slowly out of the room and into the front room, shutting the door behind her. The shop front was dark, but with a simple flick of a switch, high chandelirs illuminated the rooms with a soft, golden glow. Kisa hopped up onto her stool behind the counter, staring blankly at the cash register. Her emerald eyes moved to the edge of the counter, where a lonely tip jar sat empty. She looked away quickly, now eyeing the silver bell hanging from a colorful holiday ribbon above the oak doors. "I will save the homeland," she said assertively. "I didn't come here to start a new life, conquer immense hardships, and make a life for myself to have it all taken from me by a cruel twist of fate. Never would I simply give up like that, after I've acheived all this." Her words seemed reassuring at the time, her hollow confidence blossoming hope within her. The landscape had seemed to alter that day, and if there was anything that could explain it, it was the heavy feelings of dread and despair that had caused the day's relentless rain and gloom. Windswept skies stretched over the valley, casting a silver mist into the low blades of the meadow grasses. Things were changing. A draft blew in through an open window, buffeting an unsuspecting, daydreaming Kisa. She shuddered breifly and shut the window. "No customers yet...Odd. At least, by now, everyone else should be ariving shortly," she wisphered under her breath. A few minutes later the remaining employees plowed through the door and into the crowded kitchen. Every hour or so, she'd hear the muffled ding of the ovens signaling the completion of a batch. A few people had dropped by at various times, only to walk right back out again. Buisness was dead that day. She huffed and walked straight out, leaving a "Out For Lunch," sign hanging akwardly from a nail.
The weather hadn't cleared up much, but in her long sleeves, the wind rarely made her shudder. A few preformers lined the roads, some playing depressing songs on the harmonica, others attempting to lift the dense atmosphere of melancholy with their masterfull displays. She looked away swiftly, continuing down the path until she hit the small library.
Small as it was, the town library was very cozy. Several others were lurking about the building as well. Kisa headed straight to a secluded section and pulled an ancient recipe book from off of the top shelf. It was her 'private' section, and that dusty document was her insperation. Naturally, her recipes are original, but her inspiration comes from the seasons and the book. She read through it thoroughly, singled out a date nut muffin recipe, and recorded it. "Springtime is here, so why not add a few flowery touches? As a perk, a could sell a daisy with each batch. But that isn't enough; flower-scented muffins? I'll do that, too...I should also experiment on embedding edible sugared flower petals into them...Wouldn't that be interesting?" She rambled on to herself, recording each thought on a personal notepad. She checked several other books and left accordingly at one pm. Her temporary shopkeeper, Missy, moved out of the way promptly as Kisa entered. "Any buisness?" Kisa asked hopefully. Missy shook her head with a sigh and returned to the kitchen. Kisa sat down, defeated. A full workday hadn't passed yet, but she knew that when buisness was this slow, it would be the same all day. "I can't afford to lose a day's profit," she moaned, banging her head against the table, hoping idiotically that it would unlock a miracle. "Damn...Damn!" She said with each passing thud. It went on that way for what seemed like ages, until she developed a severe headache and tired herself out. Nobody came in to check on her; nobody even came inside until about 3 PM, when the doors burst open and the bell swung violently about until it came to a rest like a halo above a strange figure.
~~~~~
"Gah! Damn ducks," Katsumi scolded as she gathered the feathery demons, tossing them into the pond. "I cant have you guys parading all over Fallaron Ranch." The chickens gathered in a solid group, pecking nervously at the ground for fallen seeds carried by the winds, eyeing Kiba, the farmdog, carefully. Her buff stallion, Momo, grazed peacefully by the pond, muching on a little patch of wild grass. "Ahh, I love the springtime. I don't even need to feed the chickens. The fallen seeds from the farm's wildflowers and crop patch are enough to sustain their diets, especially the young chicks." Katsumi dashed across a long, vaccant strip of farmland over to the right wing. To the north, a long row of animal barns hosted ten cows and five sheep. None of them were in their homes, though. A long, vast section located directly south of the row of barns (a gate at each barn door) was lined with solid lumber, and within the boundries, grass grew. The livestock grazed contently on the dewy grass, savoring every blade. She grabbed her toolbox, which sat in the far northern corner of the pasture. One by one, she milked the cows, starting off with mellow Melanie, who didn't even stir when Katsumi began work. She brushed everal animal, sheared every sheep and milked every cow. Katsumi carried the milk and wool and tossed them into the shipping bin. Making her way to the left wing, with the poultry and crops, she picked up misc. items as she went along. Each egg was carefully extracted and placed in a basket, each ripe crop harvested and thrown into her rucksack. Katsumi placed everything into the massive bin, tossing in a few useless weeds and pebbles. "Ahh...These are good days, I actually have time left. These are rare occasions, never to be wasted," Katsumi said to herself, racing over to Momo. She untied the gorgeous stallion and hoped on her effortlessly, and with Katsumi's guidence, they sailed off into the village. They rode along the cobblestone path and made their way to the racetrack. It was completely deserted. "Momo, it's our job to bring this racetrack back to life, and hold races again. It would help structure our village and strengthen the moral fiber, and with the daunting prospect of a destroyed homeland, we need moral fiber and the community needs to ban together. This place needs fixing up, and if it goes ignored, Tierra Robada is as good as gone. The racetrack is just one of the places that needs patching up," Katsumi said, patting her horse. She entered the racetrack and dismounted Momo, getting her set up in the track. She mounted Momo once more and circled the track several times, practicing and practicing until they had the entire track memorized; every bump and indent. "These days are priceless, Momo," she wisphered softly into the stallion's flickering ear.
