Rowen moved through the planted space carefully, plucking the remaining apples one by one. The trees had matured faster than he could have imagined. Fifteen of them stood tall now, each bearing five to six apples. By the time he finished, Rowen had nearly eighty-five fruits in total, a number that made his chest tighten with excitement.
The blue screen had already confirmed the fruit cycle: new apples would appear every six hours. If that rhythm held, his supply would never run dry.
His thoughts drifted back to the teachers who had visited his shop. They each carried storage rings, small but priceless artifacts that let them store huge loads with a flick of the wrist. If he had one, all these apples could be taken out instantly. Instead, he was stuck keeping them here in the wooden shade, only able to carry out small batches at a time.
