After a while, we walked side by side down the worn path toward the fields, leaving the farmhouse porch behind.
The air hit different out here—thicker, like it had weight.
Now that it's between late summer and early autumn, the weather's awkward: blistering heat and humidity in the day, cold in the night.
Georgia humidity wrapped around you the second you left the shade—thick, damp, and stubborn.
It clung to my skin, soaked into my shirt, and turned every breath into something slow and deliberate.
If not for my peak physique I'd have a hard time acclimating, I was never one for hot weather.
The sun wasn't even at its peak yet, but it already pressed down hard enough to pull sweat from the back of the neck and along the spine.
Maggie didn't seem to mind, though.
She moved easy through it, boots crunching softly over dry patches of dirt, her shoulder brushing mine every now and then like it was nothing.
The fields that we reclaimed opened up ahead—long rows of turned earth stretching out in dark lines of fresh, damp soil.
The smell hit first before we even got there: rich dirt, fertilizer, and sweat.
It smelled like hard work.
Hershel's voice carried across it. "You keep that line straight, Shawn, like I always told you. You start drifting, you waste space. Jimmy, you're rushing it again—slow down, son."
We closed the distance as he spoke.
He stood just off the rows, posture relaxed but controlled, one hand on his hip while the other pointed out mistakes like he'd been doing it his whole life.
According to my meta-knowledge, he definitely has.
Shawn adjusted immediately, muttering a quick apology.
Jimmy wiped his face with his sleeve, breathing heavier than he wanted anyone to notice.
Hershel looked up before we said anything. Sharp eyes. They softened a fraction when they landed on Maggie, then settled on me.
I immediately felt awkward at his stare.
We hadn't had a proper conversation since I got together with Maggie.
I should have probably talked to him earlier, but I kept leaving it for later, which was probably a bad idea.
Maggie noticed my discomfort and held my hand in hers, interlocking our fingers together and giving her dad an exasperated look.
Hershel shot me a disgruntled look before he spoke. "Well, you're still here."
"Taking a day off," I replied.
He let out a quiet huff. "You don't say."
I stepped closer to the rows, my eyes moving across the fields. Decent spacing—not perfect, but efficient enough. Soil looked healthy: dark, holding moisture without drowning in it.
Looks like he did a good job.
"How's the yield looking?"
"Couldn't tell you right now, it's still in the seeding," he said, pausing a bit.
"You can tell by looking. If the fields look green and uniform, then we're on track for a high yield. However, if there are gaps in rows, then we will most likely see a reduction of twenty to thirty percent in the total harvest."
He looked at the fields. "And as you can see, we are in for a good harvest, provided the weather holds, nothing rots, and no major pest infestation happens."
"Too many variables," I nodded once.
"Good."
That was all that needed to be said.
He studied me for a second longer, then said, "Work's steady; that's what matters."
I gave him a short nod and stepped back.
Maggie lingered half a second—just long enough for a quiet look to pass between her and her father—then she turned and followed me.
We left the smell of turned dirt behind and headed to the practice field.
The shift came slow at first, then all at once. The air felt different: drier, tighter.
Morales stood across from Amy with a practice knife in hand.
He looked wrong holding it—too stiff, shoulders locked, feet planted like he was afraid the ground might give out under him if he moved too fast.
Amy wasn't better; she held the blade like it might bite her.
Rick stood between them, watching. "Again," he said.
Morales stepped in. I tracked it automatically.
Too slow, too obvious. He grabbed Amy's arm—grip loose, uncertain—then tried to execute the move Rick had shown them. Knee up, kick forward. It landed, but barely.
It had no weight behind it, no commitment—just motion without intent.
Amy stumbled back, more from surprise than force.
I watched it through my experience.
Timing was off, balance worse. The idea behind it wasn't bad—close distance, disrupt, create space—but like this? Sloppy. No control of center line, no follow-through.
Against a walker, maybe it bought you a second at best. Hit or miss.
Against a human? You'd get killed.
Amy reset, breathing a little heavier now, her grip tightening on the knife like she was trying to will confidence into her hands.
Rick nodded once. "Better."
It wasn't, but I understood why he said it.
Morales went again. Same hesitation, same stiffness. The tension built with every repetition.
I could feel it sitting in the air. It sat heavy. Nobody wanted to mess up; nobody wanted to look weak. That made them worse.
Then Rick saw us. His shoulders loosened just a fraction before he let a breath out. "Alright," he said, stepping back. "Take five."
Like they were granted a pardon, Morales dropped his knife hand slightly.
Amy exhaled like she'd been holding it the whole time.
Rick wiped sweat from his face with the back of his hand, dragging it down his jaw, then started to walk toward us. Slow steps, measured, dust shifting under his boots.
He stopped a few feet out.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, an eyebrow up.
"Been moving too much," I shrugged. "I'm taking the day off."
"Bout time you did that," he said, nodding.
"Right," Maggie piped from the side.
I opened my mouth to say something but decided otherwise.
Sighing, I turned to Rick. "Where's Shane?"
"He's off duty today," he said.
"It's my turn to teach."
You take turns? I asked, slightly surprised.
Rick gave a nod, "Yeah"
"Turns out our teaching philosophy are not exactly the same." he added, letting out an awkward chuckle.
I blinked once.
Twice.
Then i shook my head slightly, "Yeah i should've known"
I glanced at Morales and Amy who were still resting, then turned back to Rick.
"Keep up the good work," Was all I said, before I turned around and headed for the farmhouse with Maggie in tow.
(To be continued...)