Breaking Ground
Cass woke to the soft chirping of birds and the golden glow of morning light filtering through the cracks in her old farmhouse walls. For a moment she was feeling fuzzy, her mind sluggish as it adjusted to unfamiliar surroundings. Then the events of the previous day came rushing back.
She had quit her job...just like that, on a whim, without a plan. One moment she was drowning in stacks of paperwork, the next, she was drafting her resignation email with shaky hands. No hesitation, no second-guessing...until now.
She had left everything behind.
She was here. In Stardew Valley. And there was no undo button for this choice.
Cass groaned, rolling onto her side. What had she done? The bed creaked beneath her as she sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. There was no going back now. Taking a deep breath, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching out the stiffness from yesterday’s travels.
Her eyes landed on the small bundle of parsnip seeds left for her on the table. A note from Mayor Lewis was tucked underneath:
"Here's a little something to get you started. Good luck, Cass!"
She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. Farming. That was why she had come here, wasn’t it? To escape the suffocating repetition of her old life—to trade endless spreadsheets and mindless meetings for something tangible. Something real. The thought still felt foreign, almost absurd...stupid? but as she stared down at the small bag of seeds in her hands, she reminded herself: this was her choice. The earth, the work, the sweat—it was all hers now.
Determined, she grabbed the seeds and stepped outside.
The crisp morning air greeted her as she stepped onto her overgrown farmland. The sight was daunting. Weeds tangled in every direction, rocks littered the soil, and fallen branches blocked what little space remained.
The remnants of last night's effort were visible—a few uneven plots of plowed soil, evidence of her hasty attempt at getting started. Cass sighed, running a hand through her hair. If she wanted to grow anything, she had her work cut out for her.
She eyed the rough patches of dirt she had tilled under the fading evening light. It had seemed like enough at the time, but now, in the fresh glow of morning, it felt insufficient. With a determined breath, she grabbed her hoe and set to work again, carving out more space, determined to make something of this land.
She had plowed a few plots the night before, but standing there in the early morning light, she decided it wasn’t enough. Cass started slow, clearing out the smaller debris first. With each swing of the rusted axe, her muscles burned, unused to the effort. By midday, she had expanded the patch, carving out more space for her crops. The freshly tilled soil was uneven, but it would have to do.
Cass carefully planted the parsnip seeds, one by one, covering them with soil and giving them a generous watering. She stood back, hands on her hips, eyeing her work.
"Well… it's a start."
The sun was still high, and despite the exhaustion settling into her limbs, she wasn’t ready to go inside just yet. Maybe a walk would help clear her mind.
Cass wandered into Cindersap Forest, the scent of fresh pine and wildflowers filling the air. The world felt so open compared to the cramped city streets she had left behind. There were no honking cars, no endless lines of people. Just nature. Peaceful and undisturbed.
As she explored, she found wild onions near the riverbank, their green stalks barely peeking out from the soil. She plucked them carefully, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction at gathering food with her own hands. Further along, she discovered dandelions and leeks scattered along the trails. The scent of damp earth and fresh greenery filled the air as she wandered deeper, keeping an eye out for anything edible.
Occasionally, she paused to listen to the rustling leaves or watch a butterfly flit between flowers. The slow, methodical search for food was strangely calming. It gave her a purpose, however small. By the time she reached the edge of the woods, her bag was heavier with the day’s finds—a simple but rewarding haul. With the sun beginning its descent, she turned back toward the farm, the quiet of the forest lingering in her thoughts.
Cass avoided the town as much as she could, sticking to the edges where she wouldn’t run into anyone. She wasn’t ready for more awkward conversations or the prying eyes of curious townsfolk. The sting of Haley’s words from yesterday still lingered. “Just another scruffy farmer.”
Each step along the dirt path was deliberate, her boots pressing into the soft earth as she weaved through the outskirts of town. The gentle rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds were the only sounds accompanying her. Occasionally, she would spot a wild daffodil or dandelion and carefully pluck it, tucking it into her satchel. Foraging gave her something to focus on, something productive that didn’t require conversation or forced pleasantries.
As she wandered further, she spotted a grove of berry bushes, the tiny green buds promising a fruitful season ahead. The sight brought a small comfort. Here, surrounded by nature, she didn’t feel quite as out of place.
The valley was quiet, welcoming in its own way. Maybe, just maybe, she could learn to belong here too.
Shaking her head, she pushed forward, heading back toward her farm before the sun dipped too low.
By the time Cass returned home, the weight of the day had settled into her bones. She dropped her bag by the farmhouse door and flopped onto the bed without bothering to change.
Her hands were blistered, her arms sore, and yet… there was something deeply satisfying about the ache. It wasn’t the dull, mind-numbing fatigue of staring at a computer screen all day or sitting through pointless meetings—it was something real. Earned. Every muscle twinge and every callus forming on her palms was proof that she had worked, that she had pushed herself, that she had done something tangible. And for the first time in a long while, that felt good.
As she lay there, staring at the wooden ceiling, she thought about what tomorrow would bring. More farming, more clearing, more exploring.
Maybe she’d even talk to someone… or at least manage a nod in passing.
The thought made her stomach twist slightly—she wasn’t ready for town just yet. But maybe she could ease into it, one step at a time. After all, she had the whole season ahead of her. With that thought lingering in her mind, she let her heavy eyelids close, exhaustion finally pulling her under.
But for now, she let her eyes drift shut, letting sleep take her after a long, hard day.