[SEASONAL EVENT] A Palmer for Long Night

Emmett Plow the land with the horn of a lamb. Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme Then sow some seeds from north of the dam. Then she'll be a true love of mine He didn't like to think of Phoebe being in a war, the girl seeming so delicate and soft that the surroundings of a turmoil felt almost perverse to associate with her. Emmett sighed and leaned forward, putting a hand on her knee. "You're real safe here. I promise. We've done this a million times." Looking at her hands holding the book, he smiled. Phoebe's dedication to her craft was one of the most wonderful things about her, he thought. He'd always valued a good work ethic, especially when the work was something as valuable as Phoebe's. "Oh. That's good. I got handwriting like a drunk chicken with ink on it's feet, so mine'd be rubbish." With a little laugh he shifted himself a bit further onto the bed, still only by Phoebe's feet. "Downstairs they're uh..." Emmett smiled and rubbed his mouth. "They're all sayin' you're pretty. They aren't wrong." What they were really saying was 'your girlfriend is pretty' despite his protests. But he wasn't going to tell her that part. "I think they like you. N' y'fish. Whatever that's for."