Connie woke to rain.
It came down heavy and steady, drumming on the roof, streaming down the windows, turning the fields outside into dark sheets of mud. The old farmhouse creaked and sighed with every gust of wind, and for a while he lay still, watching shadows move across the ceiling beams.
He thought briefly about his little patch of parsnips and almost groaned. Then he remembered: rain meant no hauling water back and forth from the well. At least the storm had given him that.
He tugged on his boots and padded across the wooden floorboards, pulling the front door open to breathe in the cool air. The smell of wet earth rushed in, mixed with grass and pine. For once, the valley felt alive without him lifting a finger.
That was when the knock came.
A woman stood on the porch, her coat pulled tight against the rain. She had warm brown hair, a kind face, and despite the storm, she gave him a friendly smile. In her arms she carried a small bundle of white fur.
"Hello there," she said over the downpour. "You must be the new farmer. I'm Marnie. I run the ranch just south of town — sell livestock, feed, all sorts of animal supplies."
Connie shifted, caught off guard by the introduction. "Oh — yeah, Connie. Just got started a few days ago."
"Well, Connie," Marnie said, lifting the bundle slightly, "this little one showed up at my ranch last week. Sweetest thing, pure white as snow, and I thought maybe he'd be happier here with you. Farms do better with animals around, even if they're small."
She nudged the animal forward, and Connie found himself holding a soft, warm cat. The fur was clean but a little scruffy, the ears twitching as the cat looked up at him with pale green eyes. It blinked once, then tucked its head against his chest like it had known him forever.
Connie froze, awkward with the sudden responsibility. "Uh… are you sure? I don't know the first thing about taking care of—"
"He's easy," Marnie said with a knowing smile. "Keep him fed, give him a warm spot to nap, and he'll do the rest. Besides, I think he's already chosen you."
The cat purred faintly, tail curling around Connie's wrist.
He let out a small, defeated sigh. "Alright then. Guess he stays."
"That's settled," Marnie said brightly. She adjusted her coat against the rain. "If you ever need feed, hay, or eventually… bigger animals, come see me at the ranch. I'll be glad to help you get started."
"Thanks," Connie said, shifting the cat in his arms. "I'll… come by once I've figured out how not to kill a parsnip first."
Marnie laughed warmly. "One thing at a time, farmer." With a wave, she turned and made her way back down the muddy path, her boots squelching in the puddles.
Inside, the farmhouse felt different with the cat nosing around, hopping onto chairs, pawing at corners. Dust puffed up wherever he landed, and Connie coughed into his sleeve.
"Guess you're already helping me clean," he muttered.
He fetched a bucket and rag from the closet, deciding the storm had left him no excuse. The house had been standing long before him, but it was tired — cobwebs stretched in the beams, the windows were streaked with grime, and every corner seemed to carry years of neglect.
He started with the windows, scrubbing until the gray daylight filtered through properly. Then came the floor, sweeping up dirt, stray leaves, even an old marble that clattered out from under a dresser. The cat pounced on it instantly, batting it around the room until it disappeared again.
Piece by piece, Connie dragged the furniture into new places. The table went to the center of the room, the chairs beside it. The dresser shifted closer to the bed. Nothing was new or fine, but when he stepped back, it looked less like an abandoned cabin and more like somewhere a person could live.
By late afternoon, he had a small fire crackling in the hearth. The cat curled up on the rug in front of it, paws tucked neatly beneath its chest, purring like a little engine. Connie sat at the table, chin in his hand, staring out at the rain streaking the glass.
His body ached again — muscles sore from scrubbing and lifting. But for the first time since arriving, the farmhouse didn't feel empty. It felt… his.
He thought of Marnie's words, of how easily she'd placed the cat in his arms. He hadn't asked for it, but maybe that was the point. The valley seemed intent on giving him small roots, whether he was ready or not.
The cat meowed once, almost like agreement, before closing its eyes again.
Connie let out a small laugh. "Alright, partner. Looks like it's just us for now."
And with the storm outside and the fire crackling low, he felt a little less alone in Stardew Valley.
He sat a long while in that quiet, listening to the rain and his own thoughts.
He pictured the farm outside: just a mess of mud and weeds now, but in his mind's eye, he saw straight rows of crops, fruit trees, maybe even a barn like Marnie had talked about. He thought of the parsnips, buried in the wet soil, small beginnings that might one day feed him.
Faces drifted in next—Gus with his easy welcome, Willy with his half-grin and wild beard, Clint's quiet watchfulness, Emily's curious blue-haired brightness. Even Haley, brushing him off on the street but leaving him with that sharp look. Neighbors, not just names anymore.
The longer he sat, the more he realized the valley was already working on him. He had only been here a few days, but he didn't feel like a stranger tonight. The silence wasn't empty—it was settling.
His eyes drifted to the cat, now awake and grooming itself on the rug. "You probably need a name, don't you?" he asked aloud.
The cat blinked at him, unimpressed.
"Alright. Let's try… Whiskers? No, too plain. Marshmallow? Eh. Boots? Doesn't fit. Cloud? Cotton? Blizzard? Mister Paws?"
The cat stretched and yawned, not reacting to any of them.
Connie chuckled to himself. "What about Snowball? …Snow?"
The cat lifted its head and meowed, loud and deliberate.
Connie froze, then laughed. "Snow, huh? You like that one?"
The cat padded over, leapt onto the chair opposite him, and curled up there, purring like it had sealed the deal.
"Snow it is," Connie said softly.
He leaned back, listening to the storm fade and the fire crackle low. For the first time since leaving the city, he didn't feel restless. He didn't feel out of place.
With Snow purring beside him, the farmhouse finally felt like home.