Chapter IV: Dreaming of Home

Fawna quickly discovers that farming is no easy task and reminisces about her old, glamourous city life.

                "Okay... I can do this... oh drat, what on earth am I supposed to do?" Fawna asked herself with a disbelieving look at the completely overgrown field in front of her. Everywhere she looked, there were weeds, branches and stones all completely taking over the entire field. Sighing, Fawna looked at her bright red, freshly painted fingernails. "I'm going to ruin my manicure." she sulked unhappily. Blowing a strand of hair out of her face in exasperation, Fawna got on her hands and knees to pull up weeds. Fawna had never even washed a dish before in her life, let alone did any sort of field work. By the end of it, Fawna was covered in dirt, her fingernails were chipped and cracked and her perfectly made up face was smeared. Fawna burst into tears.

                "Oh I hate this!" she cried. "Farming is icky! I want to go back home, put on my stage outfit and sing in the spotlight," she sighed wistfully, remembering the glamour and adoration of her old life. Suddenly, she got an image of Greg in her head, laughing at her and the man from the shop who didn't believe she could handle a farm. Fawna's electric blue eyes flashed angrily and she wiped away her tears. No! I will make my own life on this farm! I'll prove to everyone in this town and to Greg that I'm not just a pretty face, she thought to herself.

                Dusk was fast approaching and Fawna hadn't even started on breaking up the twigs and rocks that littered the field, but luckily she had cleared enough weeds to make room for her three bags of tomato seeds. Rummaging through the tiny shed with old rusty tools, she had no idea which tools were used for what. Most of them were items that Fawna had never even seen before. Deciding to take them all and drag them out to the field with her, she performed the highly scientific test of trial and error. After most of her energy had been depleted trying useless tools, she found one that broke up the ground. "Hmmm... that seems to have done something," she pondered to herself. "Maybe I can plant the seeds now." Again getting on her hands and knees, Fawna sowed the tomato seeds, packing them into the dry, nutrition depleted earth.

                Now she was stuck. Was there anything else she needed to do? Sitting and staring at the dry seeds, she felt a muddy paw bat at her calf. Looking down, she saw Mutt dragging a watering can in his mouth. Too dirty already to care about a little extra mud on her calf, Fawna grinned and relieved the pup of his watering can, which seemed to already be filled with water. "Thanks Mutt," she told him, reluctantly patting his head. Once all the squares that she could reach were watered, Fawna yawned. It was completely dark now and she was exhausted.

                Fawna walked into the tiny house, desperately in need of a shower and a potty-break. To her horror, the house contained no such thing. Scouting around the outside of the tiny home, Fawna came across a tiny shack with a hole in the ground and gagged. "An... outhouse?" she choked, absolutely revolted. "Those things still exist?" Mustering up her courage, Fawna braved the dismal privy and fished out a bar of soap from her bag in the house. The watering hole seemed to be the farm's only source of water. "Why me?" she groaned, scrubbing herself in the cold water and dashing back into the house for bed.

                As she drifted off to sleep (she still wasn't about to let Mutt in the house), dreams of bathrooms, hot water, Greg and stage lights caressed her mind, easing her troubles as she slumbered.