Chapter Text
Cock-a-doodle-doo!!
The usual loud morning cry of the rooster meant that it's the start of another day. The sun rose slowly over Mossy Bottom with the usual rays spreading across the fields. Once the rooster was finished, the only other sound heard for the time being was a distant pitch of a kettle inside the farmhouse.
Shaun eventually made it to his usual spot in the field. His tail swaying lazily as he chewed on a stem of grass. Around Shaun, the flock blinked sleepily at the rising light, still feeling too drowsy to do any chaos yet. Bitzer shuffled past the window holding two mugs, squinting at the horizon like it personally offended him.
While the Farmer? He was humming to himself as he strolled up the path to the mailbox.
A bright orange van quickly pulls up and Rita stepped out of it with a bright smile. She waved cheerfully at Farmer before tossing a few letters into the box. Though, one particular letter fluttered to the ground, slightly heavier than the others. Rita stopped, scooped it up, and handed it to him.
She laughed awkwardly, “Nearly lost one!”, pushing it onto Farmer's hands before hurrying back to her van. “Better go now or I’ll be late” she said cheerily before driving off, leaving the quiet behind.
And then it was quiet again.
Farmer tilted his head as he turned the envelope over once then twice. It felt... different. Different as in, It's real paper. Why, this wasn’t a bill or an advertisement. It's got handwriting. He squinted at the return address, his brow furrowing, he even mumbled something under his breath.
From the grass field, Shaun peeked out, munching on grass slowly. He tilts his head- what could the paper be? Farmer trudges back toward the house. The letter dangles from his hand like it’s heavier than it should be. Shaun follows at a distance, eyes wide and curious.
Inside, Bitzer comes in from the kitchen still holding two cups of coffee. He sets one down beside Farmer with a happy tail wag. Farmer doesn’t notice as he opens the envelope.
Bitzer perks up, expecting something fun, perhaps some good news? A trip! Maybe another supply delivery? His tail wags faster. Then-
Farmer stops. His shoulders slump, the letter trembles faintly in his hands as he reads it again. Then, a third time. At last he mutters under his breath, “No dogs allowed?”
Bitzer’s ears droop and his tail slows, he then gives Farmer a look that says, Really? Again?
Farmer forces a small smile and pats his head, “Sorry, boy.” He sets the letter down on the counter.
Shaun darts back behind the window frame as Farmer moves slowly and deliberately, getting his usual green coat to do farm chores for the day. He watches every movement, eyes narrowed with curiosity. Farmer looks... different somehow. Not sick or tired necessarily, just empty in a way he can't name.
Throughout the day, Farmer moved quickly around the farm. Feeding the sheep, scrubbing laundry, and watering the garden. Hands busy, mind elsewhere. Routine, it's always routine with him. At last, all the chores were done. The animals have settled, all while the sun dipped lower.
Bitzer lingers by the porch, his ears pricked as Farmer finishes. He checks his tools, locks up the shed, and walks towards his truck, his boots crunching over the gravel. Bitzer follows behind him for a few steps hesitant, before settling back by the farmhouse sighing, knowing he cannot follow.
Shaun stands at the edge of the field, munching on some grass, watching the Farmer unload the truck. The tarp shifts slightly in the breeze. The truck door creaks, Farmer gets in. Shaun takes one step forward, then another.
Bitzer lets out a soft sigh. Shaun looks back once, ears drooping.
To his surprise, Bitzer hasn’t noticed him.
Then he dashes forward quickly, and he successfully slips under the tarp. By the time the truck engine turns on, Bitzer follows to the gate, tail still drooped. He turns to the flock and barks once.
Well, it's time for business as usual. The flock nods. For a moment things are calm.
Then Bitzer turns back to look for Shaun.
“Shaun? Shaun, where’s-?” He freezes.
The truck is already halfway down the lane and there, peeking from under a tarp in the back, is a little woolly face. Shaun winks.
Bitzer blows his whistle in alarm and takes one step forward, but then the barn doors behind him fly open, two sheep tumble out, tangled in a bucket and a garden hose, another launches themself into the air chasing a butterfly, not to mention another has already knocked over the feeding tray.
Bitzer groans and rolls his eyes, he lets out a long resigned sigh, and he looks back one last time before he trudges back toward the chaos.
The countryside drifts by as Farmer drives. The sun was moving closer to the horizon meaning that nightfall approaches soon. Every so often, his gaze flicks to the empty passenger seat. Just a glance like he expects someone to be there.
No one is.
Shaun peeks through a crack in the tarp, his eyes wide. The world rolls by in quiet roads that stretch outside of Mossingham City. There’s bridges, hedgerows filled with flowers, houses with smoke coming from chimneys. At first it’s exciting, afterall it could be the start of all new adventure. But he cant help but sense this aura of tension coming from Farmer, the weight in his shoulders, and the silence replacing the usual humming.
The truck drove down narrow lanes. Long shadows blanketed the land all as the sun went lower, decorating the sky in shades of pink and orange. By the time Farmer makes it to the edge of town, the sky was turning pink and purple and the sun was sinking behind the hills. Street lights began to turn on, lighting up small patches of ground and far off over the fields, a few hot air balloons lift gently into the sky. Their soft glowing colors rising toward the dark.
Farmer slows as he parks in a courtyard lined with lights, breath fogging faintly in the cooling air. He stopped at the edge of the venue, where white curtains fluttered in the gentle evening breeze and the distant laughter of guests could be heard. Above, normal balloons flew among the first stars.
He stands there a long time, watching them.
He adjusts his tie in the mirror taking a mental note that formal wear never looks right on him, then he exhales and walks towards the doors. Behind him under the tarp, Shaun watches. Small, silent but wide eyed. He doesn’t understand what’s waiting on the other side of those doors, only that something is about to change.
Farmer doesn’t notice the little pair of eyes watching him as he disappears inside.