DAVE
Field Work
The rich scent of turned earth fills my lungs as I watch Cumberland pack members work the Macready fields with the focused determination of people remembering their worth. Morning sun catches on the lake's surface like scattered coins, and somewhere in the apple orchard, children's laughter rings out—a sound that would have meant punishment under Colton's rule now means freedom.
"Corn's going in the east field," Margaret reports, dirt smudged on her cheek like war paint. "Tomatoes and squash in the plot near the lake. Beth's got the greenhouse crew working on herbs for the market."
I nod, feeling the land's approval through channels Brightburn carved wider. Each seed planted sends tiny pulses of potential through my awareness—future growth already whispering possibiliti
