The school day continues with little interruption, with no one finding anything amiss. Nothing worthy of their attention to be found.
No one is wiser of the unknown that has made the village home.
No one looks beyond their own lives as they continue them uninterrupted.
The farmers continue to work in the fields with no thought beyond the next day.
The store owners spend another day watching the same customers buy the same things they did the previous day.
The villagers meander meaninglessly again another day, with no purpose beyond the walk.
This pattern of repetition continues into the youth as well of the village.
They walk the same way to the school and back, with little change in the schedule.
Speaking to the same ones when they do, dismissing the same "villains" of the town.
Few of the students take their schooling seriously, many finding classes pointless. Sleeping or only weakly following along.
Many choose to doodle in their classes to others practice truancy. Uninterested in topics that would matter not from their perspectives.
Those few that find it engaging have their head in their books, studying when they can. Some even beyond the material currently taught.
One of those that did not find it engaging is Birdie. As she is walking in the hallway, wandering to lunch.
Birdie watches as the students quickly step out of her way, with fear and dislike in their gazes.
Listening to the idle gossip as she tries to see if any idiots are getting too insufferable without her beatings.
Observing the hallways with a careful, meticulous gaze, picking out the previous troublemakers.
They tend to rise every so often, whether because they found a new weapon or just idiocy.
Left to her thoughts as she walks down the halls with a blend of confidence and wariness.
Searching for the fools who would try to challenge her rule as the gang leader of the town.
Spending some time thinking about the unsettling rumors among her subordinates as well.
As she continues her walk, stewing in the errant thoughts as she observes any aberrant difference.
In a nearby classroom, Mondo is working on one of the worksheets given by the teacher.
Trying to diligently finish the work before the bell rings out on the class.
Called the teacher's pet among various other nicknames granted by the other students.
The previous day's sky was nothing but clear skies, the sun shining bright. Sadly this beautiful day would not last.
With the clouds beginning to smother the night sky.
As a so-called Calm before the storm settles upon the sleepy little town.
A rainstorm brews in the night and then releases on the following day.
Raining upon the land with a soft pitter-patter as it covers the world in a great storm.
Mud begins to cover many of the ancient paths of the village.
The sound of rain entering the background for all but those who focus on it
Its nature feels to be light-hearted, with how light the drops are.
But it does not seem to let up, continuing into the night as the stragglers run home.
Mondo is among those stragglers who rush down the street to get home.
Thankfully with streets clear of thugs and other awful things of the night.
He makes it home without a scratch to his name.
Though the ease with which he successfully arrives without incident confuses him.
As he is used to the occasional thugs hassling him about his slowness.
Or perhaps one of the elders would still be out, screaming at him for setting bad examples.
Though the feeling quickly passes as he turns in early to get a good night's sleep.
Placing his backpack to the side of his bed, entering his blood soon after.
Moonlight filters through the night sky. The light shining upon the ignorant village. Unaware of events far out of their control.
Soon to consume this village, as the morning light ushers in the first flames.
The light woke the villagers in short order, though none so early as the foreigner.
Walking out of the small hut he had built the previous night.
Staring out at the village, basking in the sunlight and the morning air.
The view would have been breathtaking to bask in, the Gardener thinks.
It's so sad it's such an unruly kept town, filled to the brim with weeds.
Weeds dot the landscape and fill the sides around houses.
To the weeds that no mortal would dare remove from the garden.
Full of weeds he cannot and should not remove, else the others will surely scatter to the winds.
Carried by the winds or by the stampede of beasts. They always did flee if you did the work to weed so openly.
It was a tedious process to do then, and it is to do now.
He still wonders what it would be like if things were still like days long since passed.
When the folk of the land trusted the words of their Elder ones.
Simply disposing of those that would spoil the crop as a whole.
Though he should get his head out of the dirt, in all honesty.
Perhaps because those days are long past, the old ways should be abandoned, the Gardener muses.
Death was a messy solution, all things considered now. Leaving those innocent with grief in the heart.
Even if it did prevent further issues, it was not as simple as the Elders before had stated.
Indifferent to the suffering it had caused as long as it removed the root rot from the people.
Regardless, he should get back to working on his gardens and the public roads.
Some of the locals seem to find his presence unruly. Something about how pointless his actions are.
The Gardener was not interested in getting into fights with the locals. Even with the ones he feels are weeds.
Even if they spread their malice to the others, it was nothing but the bragging of a cowardly beast.
His only interest, unlike the Elders, is simply to make these roads beautiful once more.
Something the Elders could likely emphasize to some degree. Too bad they always placed more importance on disciplining the fools.
Like some bad-behaving member of their sheep herds. Ready with some training to discipline the poor fool who acquired their wrath.
As long as there were no obstacles, it was his only goal in this village. And was his hope he held for this village.
