Ophelia set the hoe against the wall and sighed. A whole day's worth of work and she'd tilled a grand total of... half a small field. Lovely. Turns out raw physique is no substitute for being actually skilled at farming, and despite all the reading she's done, her skill was notably lacking.
In fact, it was very much still completely absent.
In the world of Moorhold Online, Skills (capitalized) very much governed what you were able to do and how well you were able to do it, and without that little word "Farming" on her sheet, Ophelia might as well have been moving mountains with that hoe.
She grabbed some water from the jug she'd set aside beforehand and splashed it on her neck. The midday sun had been especially harsh and its heat still lingered now in the late afternoon.
She looked out over the surrounding area. Her rickety shack (lack of Woodworking) was situated on a low hilltop in a countryside that could charitably be called "the ass-end of nowhere". It didn't even have its own name. A few more farms dotted the place, but most people rarely ventured this far out. The lands near the big cities, like say Ildhena, were far more fertile and hospitable, but Ophelia preferred it here.
She needed the solitude, for her own safety.
Well, no use standing around and wasting more daylight. She stowed the jug and hoe back inside, grabbed some provisions, then walked around back to a small fire pit she'd improvised there.
Considering her lack of Skills, it seemed like a safer idea than putting it inside.
She sat down next to it and took a slow, deep breath as a series of small cracks and pops sounded from her throat and chest. In the next moment, she spewed a gout of flame into the pit. She chuckled to herself: even though she had neither Survival or Cooking, there were some small things she could cheat at. Sadly, the actual act of cooking wasn't one of them, but like with everything else, she made do.
Yes, technically she could go out and buy Skill Scrolls for all these things, except that would require her to A) Enter a large settlement and B) Have money. Well, she could also try her luck at the many treasure chests scattered around the world, but she figured she was more likely to find some garbage like Arcane Bolt than a Scroll of Cooking inside.
But, as evidenced by her handiwork out front, you could always try it the hard way. And such, about half and hour later, Ophelia was staring down at three small clumps of not-quite-charcoal and some lumps formerly known as vegetables. She grumbled, pinched her nose and closed her eyes and pretended it was just, as the cooks would say, "bien cuit".
Très, très bien cuit.
After a few agonizing bites, her culinary self-flagellation was suddenly interrupted by a rustle in the nearby grass - a fox, if the scent was any indication. She'd seen them sometimes around the countryside but they usually did not venture this close. Ophelia's throat cracked and popped again, and she cleared her throat.

"Hail, brave fox," she yipped, "to what do I owe your visit?"

The fox's head popped out of the grass, mouth hanging open. Was that too formal? Ophelia had no idea how to properly address an animal outside of her old function.

"You can speak with me?" the fox yipped back, slowly, as if it was still trying to process this.

"Indeed. I can speak with most animals. But come closer, I mean you no harm. Was it the food that brought you here?"

"Ah, I smelled something strange and was curious. That was food?"

"Well, arguably," Ophelia grimaced, "but if you want some, I'll have to disappoint: they are in a poor state and would probably be bad for you."

"Then why were you eating them?" The fox asked, cocking its head to the side.

"Because I need to learn from my failures," she huffed, "and this way I won't soon forget."

(She certainly was not about to admit to a fox that this was all she had managed to prepare today.)

The fox trotted closer to the fire and started inspecting the food.

"Other foxes have been smelling strange things around here in the last few days." It said, turning to her. "You must be learning a lot."

Ophelia gritted her teeth and mentally counted to ten. "Yes... quite so." She eventually replied, obviously strained. She did have quite a bit of knowledge amassed on cooking, but like with everything she did without the proper Skills, her mind turned to custard when she tried to put it into practice.

"Anyway," she continued, "Allow me to fetch you something edible for your trouble and then you can be on your way."

"Actually, is it possible for me to stay here?" The fox cautiously asked.

"Why would you want that?" Ophelia replied from inside the shack. "There is very little here that I could offer you that you could not easily find by yourself in the fields."

"Well, I'm still curious about the things you do here. Also, a wyvern has taken up roost near my old den and has eaten me several times now. I don't like that very much."

Ophelia grimaced at that. Critters respawn just like anything else in this world, but she didn't know of anyone besides her, the Residents and Wanderers who were aware of the process.
But at the same time, she liked her quiet life, and didn't want to become some sort of local fox lady taking in every stray.

"Here, have a bit of jerky," she held out the strip to the fox, who eagerly snatched it from her hand. "And I'll allow it," she started, an idea forming in her head, "on one condition. See, anyone who lives with me has to be able to pull their own weight, so to speak, so I will give you a challenge. Do you think yourself up for the task?"

"Sure, sounds like fun! At least, as long as you don't want me to attack that wyvern."

"No need to worry, this challenge should be well within your abilities. I want you to find a crow and steal a piece of cheese from it."

It was an old folk tale she'd overheard some wanderers talk about. It pained her a little to do this, but she really couldn't afford to stand out from the other farmers, and having a fox companion would ruin that.

"What?" The fox stared at her slack-jawed, "I've never even heard of crows who eat cheese."

"Apparently, some do." She replied matter-of-factly, "It will be up to you to find one. And do not think about tricking me: I can talk to crows just as well and will be able to verify whether you stole from them or not."

The fox turned around, dejected. "Okay. I guess... I guess I'll be off, then"

"Best of luck on your quest." she called after it. But as she headed back inside and closed the door, a knot formed in her stomach. Was it cruel to send the fox out on an impossible task just so it could shelter with her? Yes, but at the same time she had to avoid scrutiny of any kind for her own safety. Plus, she reasoned, if she was found out, any companions of her would become targets as well. So it was also in its best interest to not be associated with her.

But despite her best efforts at rationalizing her decision, sleep would not find her that night.

Five days later...

Ophelia stretched her back and looked at her field with satisfaction. It had taken her a long time, but now that stubborn field was not only tilled but she had also planted the seeds of her first batch of test crops!
One of the other farmers stopped by two days ago, and while they were nice enough as they talked about crops and the weather, Ophelia found the whole experience of pretending to be a normal Resident nerve-wracking. Thankfully, no-one else had shown up afterwards, so her plan to look completely unremarkable had probably worked?
One could only hope.
Suddenly, her satisfied gazing was interrupted by loud yipping and cawing from the back side of her shed. As she rounded the corner, she saw a fox and a crow making a hell of a racket at her back door. She also spotted something near the fox's feet - was that a piece of cheese?
Oh. Oh no.
Ophelia's throat popped as she addressed the fox: "Hello, are you looking for me?"

"Yes, yes!" the fox yipped excitedly, "I did it! I stole this piece of cheese from that crow!"

Her throat cracked as she turned to the crow. "Is this true?" she cawed, "Did this fox steal from you?"

"Yes, yes it did!" The crow cawed excitedly, "And then it asked me to come here to testify!"

Ophelia dragged a hand across her face. So her fox was apparently both the best and worst thief in the history of Moorhold. Lovely.
But she would hold true to her word. "Very well, little Reynaert, you can stay with me from now on."

"Is the fox staying? Can I stay too?" the crow cawed.

Oh dear, this had been what she was afraid of: becoming the weird lady on the hill with crows and foxes for pets. Also, she was very much aware that the corvids of Moorhold upheld a sort of advanced communication network: anything this crow would see or hear would quickly be known by any other corvids in the world. And any Druid, or even anyone who had the Commune With Animals Skill, could then ask them about her, or overhear them blabbing about her.
But at the same time, she remembered how awful it had made her feel to turn the fox away with that apparently-not-quite-impossible task. She wanted to be cautious, not cruel or heartless like her creator.
And maybe the Corvid Network could be useful to her as well.

"Fine, you both get to stay."

This provoked another unholy racket from both fox and crow as they followed her inside.

"Ma'am," the fox asked once things had settled down, "what's a Reynaert?"

"Reynaert is the name of a sly and tricky fox from old stories." she replied while washing some vegetables from her provisions. For now, she'd decided, she'd avoid cooking things on open fires.

"I like it! Can it be my name? What's yours?" the fox asked while using its paws to split the cheese between it and the crow.

"You can have whatever name you want. And I am called Ophelia."

"My name is Lee!" the crow cawed excitedly. "Lee! Lee! Lee!"

"Rey-naert, Rey-naert, Rey-naert!" the fox joined in.

Ophelia was already regretting her decision.