The rain began a month after the Summer Solstice Festival, a gentle drizzle at first, but soon a steady curtain that cloaked Greenwood in mist. The forest's emerald canopy glistened, and the air smelled of wet earth and moss. Moonwheat and starbeans, thriving after the Darkwood sabotage, now risked rotting in waterlogged fields. Akira stood at his window, watching rivulets trace paths down the glass, his mind racing with solutions. The village's low rainy season harvests were a growing concern, and today's meeting beneath the great oak would address it.
He joined Elara at the village center, where elves huddled under woven leaf canopies, their faces etched with worry. Rain pattered rhythmically, a backdrop to murmured debates. Elder Thalion raised a hand, his voice cutting through the damp air. "Our stores dwindle each rainy season. We must decide our crops before the soil becomes unworkable."
Kael, the skeptical archer, spoke up. "We've always planted glowroot. It's tradition, and the spirits favor it."
"Glowroot fails in heavy rain," countered Liora, her auburn hair damp but her tone firm. "Last season, we lost half the crop to rot."
"Change risks worse failure," Kael snapped. "What else can survive this deluge?"
Akira glanced at Elara, her silver hair damp but her emerald eyes steady. She nodded, urging him to speak. He stepped forward, rain dripping from his cloak. "Back home, I studied crops for wet climates. We can plant varieties that thrive in rain and use techniques to manage water."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Human methods again?"
"They worked before," Elara said, her voice calm but resolute. "Let Akira explain."
Akira nodded, grateful for her support. "First, we need flood-tolerant crops. Watercress grows well in wet soil, even in standing water. It's nutritious, like your starflowers, and quick to harvest. Taro, a root crop, also loves moisture and can be a staple, similar to glowroot but hardier. I see them in the forest when Elara and me was going to Darkwood."
"How do we plant them?" Thalion asked, leaning forward.
"Raised beds," Akira said. "We build mounds of soil, about a foot high, to keep roots above water. Mix in compost to enrich them—your kitchen scraps and leaves, like we did before. We also dig drainage ditches to channel excess water to the river."
Liora's eyes brightened. "That's clever. It's like lifting the crops out of harm's way."
Kael frowned. "And if the forest spirits or forest heart disapprove of these foreign crops?"
Elara placed a hand on the oak, her fingers glowing faintly. "The forest spirits value life, so does the forest heart. I can weave spells to guide water flow and protect the beds, blending our magic with Akira's knowledge."
A young elf, Miren, spoke hesitantly. "What about pests? Wet seasons bring slime beetles."
"Good point," Akira said. "Planting mint or stinkweed nearby repels them, like we used against shadow locusts. We can also attract glimmerwings with moonblossoms to eat smaller pests. If that didn't work well, I have others plan also."
Thalion surveyed the crowd, sensing agreement. "Akira's plan honors both tradition and necessity. Who stands with it?"
Hands rose, Liora's first, followed by most others. Kael hesitated but nodded. "If it saves our harvest, I'll help."
"Then it's settled," Thalion said. "Akira, Elara, lead us."
As the meeting ended, rain fell harder, but hope flickered in the elves' eyes. Akira felt Elara's hand brush his, a quiet reassurance. "We'll make this work," she whispered.
The next few days were a blur of activity, and the village united in purpose despite the relentless rain. Akira worked in the fields, his boots sinking into muddy soil, guiding elves in building raised beds. They piled earth into long mounds, mixing in compost that smelled of rich decay. Liora proved a quick learner, her hands deft as she shaped beds with a wooden spade.
"You've got a knack for this," Akira said, wiping rain from his brow.
Liora grinned, her freckles stark against her wet face. "I grew up tending orchards. Soil's in my blood, like it's in yours."
They shared stories as they worked—Akira's university experiments with hydroponics, Liora's childhood climbing fruit trees to escape chores. Her sharp wit made the labor lighter, and Akira found himself laughing more than he had in days.
"Careful, human," she teased, tossing him a muddy clod. "You're starting to blend in."
He dodged, chuckling. "Good. I'm here to stay."
Nearby, villagers dug drainage ditches, Elara's magic guiding water into shimmering channels that flowed to the river. Her hands glowed, her voice a soft chant, blending seamlessly with the rain's rhythm. Akira admired her focus, but noticed her glances toward him and Liora, her expression unreadable.
At the herb garden, Elara tended rows of sage, mint, and moonberry, her expertise vital for potions and rituals. Her magic coaxed plants to grow despite the damp, their leaves vibrant under her touch. But the garden's solitude left her pensive, her thoughts drifting to Akira's easy laughter with Liora. She shook her head, chastising herself, "He's just making friends. It's good for him."
One afternoon, as Akira helped Miren plant watercress, Liora joined them, offering tips on spacing seedlings. "You two work well together," Miren said, smiling.
"Liora's a great teacher," Akira said, earning a playful nudge from her.
Elara approached, carrying a basket of mint. "How's it going?" she asked, her tone light but her eyes searching.
"Great," Akira said, sensing a shift in her mood. "Liora's been a huge help. How's the herb garden?"
"Thriving," Elara said, her smile tight. "I've got to get back. The moonberries need pruning."
As she walked away, Akira frowned, puzzled. Liora raised an eyebrow. "Trouble in paradise?"
"I hope not," he said, resolving to talk to Elara later.
That evening, he found her by the river, its bioluminescent algae casting a soft glow. Rain had eased to a drizzle, but her hair was damp, clinging to her face. "Elara, is everything okay?" he asked.
She hesitated, then sighed. "I saw you with Liora today. You're so… at ease with her. I know it's silly, but I felt a pang in my heart. I'm stuck in the herb garden while she works with you."
Akira's heart sank. "Elara, I'm sorry. Liora's a friend, nothing more. I love working with you, but your magic is needed elsewhere right now. You're amazing at what you do."
Her eyes softened. "I know. It's just… I miss being by your side."
He took her hand, the leaf necklace he'd given her glinting. "You're always with me, here," he said, touching his chest. "Let's make time to work together soon, okay?"
She nodded, leaning into him. "Okay. I'm sorry for being foolish."
"Not foolish," he said, kissing her forehead. "Honest. That's why I love you."
The rain continued, and so did the work. Akira pushed himself, helping villagers reinforce ditches and plant taro, often ignoring Elara's warnings to rest. "You're not used to this climate," she'd said. "Don't overdo it."
"I'm fine," he insisted, driven by the village's trust in him. But the damp seeped into his bones, and by the third day, a scratchy throat and chills betrayed him.
He woke the next morning in his cottage, shivering despite the fire. His head throbbed, and each breath felt heavy. Elara arrived, her face a mix of worry and exasperation, carrying a steaming mug of moonberry tea.
"You're sick," she said, setting the mug down. "I told you not to work in the rain."
Akira groaned, pulling the blanket tighter. "I should've listened. I'm sorry."
She sat beside him, her hand cool against his fevered brow. "You're stubborn, but I love you for it. Drink this—it'll help."
Akira felt a pang in his heart of regret for worrying her.
She stayed, brewing more tea and telling stories of elven healers who used herbs to mend both body and spirit. Akira felt his heart swell, the warmth of her presence more healing than any tea. "I don't deserve you," he murmured.
"You do," she said, leaning in to kiss his forehead. "Rest now. We'll face the rain together when you're better."
"I wanted to prove I belong here," he admitted, voice hoarse. "But I pushed too hard."
"You already belong," Elara said, her eyes fierce. "You don't need to prove anything. Just get better."
He smiled weakly. "With you here, I will."
As rain tapped the roof, they sat together, her hand in his. The cold would pass, but their bond, forged through challenges and care, grew stronger, a promise of brighter days ahead.