Thorin Strandberg

The Steward

Leah grunted, pressing down on the handles. The share bit into the dry earth. She clicked her tongue and Bruce ambled forward, his hooves churning dirt. The share cut the weeds and the moldboard scooped them away, turning over fresh, dark soil. She tried to guide Bruce into straight lines, which made the planting, the watering, the harvest easier. Mother had taught her, and that was all there was to it. She still wore the necklace she’d given her around her neck, it gave her strength whenever she grew tired.