Dagg leaves Pike and Caldus beneath the burning warning and takes the eastern road alone. By late morning, Nabbitt Farms rises beyond the fields, silent beneath a pale sky.
The gate still bears the old bloodstain beneath fresh-scoured boards. Mara’s empty place at the entrance seems larger than the whole yard, while the animals call uneasily from their pens.
Your border collie races from the farmhouse, circles Dagg once, and presses against his legs. The border collie searches the road behind him, then looks up as though expecting Mara to follow.
Dagg Nabbitt
The house is standing, and every animal is still here.
Inside, Mara’s shawl remains folded beside the hearth. The sealed royal judgment rests where Dagg left it, its wax unbroken, proving that her ownership survived even though she did not.
There is no companion at his back, no prisoner to question, and no immediate rider on the road. Only your border collie follows him from room to room as Dagg surveys the locks, stores, and empty bedchamber.
The farm is legally Mara’s, protected by the crown, yet its defender is gone and Pike’s remaining followers may still know the way here. The quiet household waits for Dagg’s next decision.
“{Dagg walks outside next to a large oak tree. His two story farm house visible behind him. He stands over a fresh mound of dirt. Merrin, Nabbitt Farms ranch hand, walks up to mourn Mara with Dagg. Dagg's dog lays down near the mound staring at it. The wind blows softly as leaves float by.}”
SUCCESS (Legendary Willpower, rolled +0)
Dagg walks beneath the broad oak beside the two-story farmhouse and stops at Mara’s fresh mound. Merrin Holt, a lean young man in a weathered brown coat, approaches quietly, his cap held against his chest.
The border collie lowers himself beside the mound, chin near his paws, staring at the turned earth. Soft wind moves through the oak, and leaves drift between the grave and the silent house.
Merrin Holt
She should have come home to this place. She should have had years here, not only a stone and a mound.
Merrin steps close and bows his head. Dagg remains beside him, steadying the moment with the same careful attention he gives a frightened horse, though the quiet still tempts him toward the easier comfort of the house.
Merrin Holt
I remember how she spoke about the farm. She meant to make it strong. You brought her home, Dagg. I will help keep it standing.
The dog stays at the mound while the two men mourn in silence. Wind brushes the grass, leaves settle on the soil, and Nabbitt Farms holds its grief without asking either of them to leave it behind.
Beneath the oak, the border collie settled beside Mara’s grave. Merrin stood with his hat in both hands, while Dagg looked back toward the locked house.
Merrin Holt
She should have had years here. I’ll help see that this place keeps them in her name.
Dagg Nabbitt
Then we’ll keep the gates shut, the fields tended, and her judgment safe.
For a while, neither man spoke. The dog rested its head against the fresh earth, and the farm breathed quietly around them.
Mara Vell was gone, but Nabbitt Farms remained: its ownership secured by royal seal, its future held in uncertain human hands. Dagg and Merrin left the grave together, carrying their grief into the work of preserving her home. Under the oak, the border collie kept watch as evening gathered over the fields.