With both birds cleaned and in their turnouts, Namu felt adrift. There had to be more to running a ranch. He just wasn’t sure what it was. That meant more studying. Namu reluctantly did just that, but he much preferred doing to reading, and he was glad when Cyrille saved him from studying by reminding him he had seeds to plant. There were also silks to design. Namu knew better than to touch that. Instead, he told Mira where to find the store and headed to the plots he’d seen earlier.

  Six of them sat near the ranch house, separated from each other by raised plank borders. Each measured, as far as Namu could tell, twelve by eight feet, and judging by the six mounds of dirt inside each, he could plant six seeds in a plot. A perfect fit for the thirty-six Wheatgrass seeds he’d got for free from the seed store.

  Namu handed Cyrille half of the seeds, and they got to work. Mira sat in the grass a safe distance away with a few screens already open in front of her. The spider Kentauros enjoyed the outdoors as much as most, but getting covered in sticky soil was definitely a step too far. Namu was still amazed she’d agreed to buy the ranch at all, so as far as he was concerned, she could do as she pleased.

  Namu saw more wisdom in her decision by the time they were done. Where falling of Mangrove had made him grimy, digging around in garden plots made him look more like a mud golem than a Plantfolk. Even for a living tree, it was a lot of dirt. Still, working with his hands in nature always spoke to him in a way nothing else did. He supposed it was one thing he shared with others of his kind.

  A quick check of the “Timers” tab showed the seeds would net him two pounds of Wheatgrass. That seemed a lot for a single seed, but Namu wasn’t about to argue. Another check with Mira gained him a scowl and a “Fashion takes time,” so he hosed himself off at the MaGriffs’ wash station, then found a sunny spot to read in.

  After what felt like days, but was probably closer to an hour or two, Namu’s head was swimming with info. Each page held links to more pages, which held links to more. He had a feeling he’d be referencing them a lot. For now, he’d learned a few very important things. First, as long as they were fed and not injured, MaGriffs got eight hours a day to train. MaGriffs could only use a track for one hour a day, but other training could be used longer. The last day of each week was a day off. No training allowed, but taking them for a stroll didn’t count.

  The most exciting day of the week was the second to last. That’s when races were held. MaGriffs and jockeys could be registered up to one hour before a race, but the info advised early registration, since each race held a limited number of slots. Namu took its advice to heart. He gladly switched from the text block to the “Race” tab.

  The thrill that had ebbed with all the reading and sitting surged again as Namu clicked the “F-Rank” button.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Namu’s fingers flew through the next couple of screens. Five others had already registered. Not terribly surprising considering the time it took him to find the race registration. He claimed the sixth slot with him as jockey, but hesitated over the choice of Magriff. Both had near-identical stats since all the training they’d done was an hour on the dirt track, but Mangrove had a slightly more fiery nature. He selected Mangrove as the racer and hit confirm. He got kicked back to the race list, and with no tack available for a second MaGriff, the register buttons were now all grayed out. That left Namu with a handful of days before his and Mangrove’s debut race.

  The registration page also had links to 3D renditions of each track, similar to what had popped up for the MaGriffs. There wasn’t any explanation to go with it, but the model would be good for getting a feel for the track before the race. While going over a track while actually on it didn’t sound too bad, Namu had been sitting still for way too long, and in the sun no less. Most Plantfolk would have rooted and rested, claiming the sun had lulled them into a deep slumber. It did nothing but energize Namu.

  He jumped up as fast as his wooden legs allowed and headed to the ranch house. Mira rested inside, with half her legs dangling over the edge of the brown couch lining one side of the living room.

  The room had exactly one couch and a rocking chair with a small, flat table that sat between them. Overall, the living room had just enough floor space to fit Namu and his friends.

  Cyrille creaked back and forth in the rocking chair, his eyes closed and head laid back.

  “I’m registered for our first race!” Namu practically yelled.

  Cyrille snorted and sat up. Mira chuckled, her less than great mood replaced by a certain giddiness that only happened when one of two things happened, one of which was completing a design project.

  Namu grinned. “Can I see?”

  Mira grinned back, showing pure white teeth with two little fangs, and tapped a screen in front of her.

  Another semi-transparent picture appeared in the air. A starter MaGriff, which could have been Mangrove, Dahlia, or a random bird, stood proud in racing silks, a Plantfolk that looked a lot like Namu in silks on its back. Purple made up the primary color of the silks, with black in strategic spots and gold in looping patterns. A stylized gold MaGriff was embossed on the back of the jockey’s silks and the sides of the racer’s silks. It reared up in an attack stance similar to what Namu had seen on Gryphon guild crests.

  “It’s beautiful,” Namu said, breathing the words out.

  Mira waved off his compliment. “It works with your colors. The MaGriffs…well, there’s no helping them, and besides, I figure not all MaGriffs will be such dull colors.”

  Namu nodded absently. She was probably right. The MaGriff’s silks went over its face, with holes for its eyes and beak, while the rest looped around its chest and hung from under the saddle. Sure, the gray-green feathers looked odd next to the brighter colors of the silks, but that was fine.

  “It’s like you always say,” Namu said. “Fashion enhances beauty. It’s doing a great job.”

  Mira beamed. “Indeed, it is. I found a design tool for tack, as well as blankets and leg wraps. Have no doubt, I’ll make them work just as well.”

  “Oh, no doubt here.”

  “So, we have the rest of the week to train,” Cyrille said.

  Namu nodded without commenting on the fact he hadn’t said when the race was. Knowing Cyrille, he’d memorized half the info sheets already. Still, Cyrille knew how much he enjoyed figuring things out in his own time, and would only step in when asked or when desperately needed.

  “Hmmm. Well, what next, then?”

  Namu shifted through the puzzle pieces in his mind. There was one big issue with training. “We need more to train with.” He popped up his UI. The “Training Objects” tab held only one thing—the short dirt track. However, it had a helpful link on where to get more. A quick tap flipped it over to a skill tree.

  It was less a tree and more a bush at this point. Blueprint unlocks for a “4-stall stable” and a “small ranch house” sat at the top. The “4-stall stable” branched into a “20'x50’ turnout”, “short dirt track”, and “3'x2’ garden bed”. These blueprints were already learned. That made sense, considering they were already on the ranch.

  Similarly, there were several basic furniture blueprints learned under “small ranch house”. Underneath all the pre-learned blueprints was a handful of unlearned ones, with further branches hidden from view. Each available blueprint took one skill point to learn, but he only had two to start. That was a problem. He’d have dumped both points into training objects without a second thought if not for the inevitable rage he’d get from Mira for denying her a chance to upgrade their furniture.

  Namu sighed. For his safety, he could choose only one. His disappointment ebbed when he tapped on the “short log jump” blueprint and an info panel popped up.

  A schematic under the description showed exactly what and how many materials were needed to construct it. In this case, it was literally a few small logs. Below the schematic glowed a “learn” button. What Namu didn’t see was a time limit on training.

  He exited the pop-up and checked the dirt track’s info to be sure. Sure enough, the track specifically stated it could only be used one hour a day. A few more clicks showed his other two options—a log pull and a sprint hill, didn’t have time limits either. So, theoretically, he could use one for the other seven training hours in a day. That left him with a choice.

  The log pull increased strength or stamina each hour. The jumps increased agility or strength, while the sprint hill increased speed and stamina.

  Namu picked the short sprint hill with little debate. He was racing, after all, so having more speed felt natural. On the downside, the hill meant playing in more dirt, which meant having to wash off again. Ah well, it would at least give him something to do.

  *****

  Even with Cyrille’s help, making the sprint hill ended up taking the rest of the day and part of the night. It needed wood planks for support on its sides, and so much dirt that making it should have left a crater in the ranch. Thankfully, the Goddess seemed to have made the new world with unlimited resources. Whenever Namu or Cyrille cut down a tree or took dirt from the ground, it would reappear in less than an hour. It had almost given them a heart attack the first time a tree re-spawned right next to them, but Namu appreciated the efficiency. Mira had less nice things to say about it.

  She’d been considering landscaping the flat ranch. But if all work outside of a blueprint just reset, there was no point. Namu smoothed things over by showing her the skill tree and the skill point waiting for her. She promptly disappeared into the house, and by the time he and Cyrille had washed off and returned, their boring brown couch had been replaced by a slightly fluffier, and more colorful version. Deep purple covered what looked like fuzzy cloth. Bronze metal bits decorated the front of the arms. A matching armchair had also appeared between the couch and rocking chair.

  Mira, however, was nowhere to be seen, and if the closed bedroom door was any indication, she’d grown tired of waiting for them and gone to bed. Namu couldn’t blame her. He was so tired, not even the excitement of an entirely new world could chase away the heaviness in limbs. He parted ways with Cyrille, who found a grassy spot nearby to sleep in, and stumbled just far enough from the house to get full moonlight. Namu shifted with the pale warmth of the moon on his bark. His humanoid form twisted and reformed. Arms turned to branches, legs to roots, until a willow tree waved its leaves in the cool night.