Bathilda surveyed the transformed landscape, a satisfied pride swelled in her chest. The dense, oppressive forest that had once choked the western approach to Home had vanished, replaced by a clean, open expanse. The air, previously thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, was now prepared for livestock.

  "(Creation) sure is something else," she remarked, her voice slightly lost in the newfound space. Hiro, standing beside her, observed the scene with a mixture of awe and bewilderment.

  The newly erected southern wall, a sturdy barrier of stone and earth, snaked its way from the edge of Home, seamlessly merging with the formidable crescent-shaped chasm she had carved around Home. Its purpose was clear: to prevent any monstrous incursions, a tangible symbol of security. While the majority of the local fauna were hardly masters of stealth, Bathilda wasn't willing to take any chances. She had witnessed enough to know that the extraordinary was commonplace in this world.

  Following the same meticulous process on the eastern side, she had replicated her success. The trees were gone, replaced by a protective wall, completing the fortification of Home. In less than a week, she had fundamentally altered the city's surroundings, a testament to her potent abilities and unwavering determination.

  Driven by a deep sense of responsibility, she meticulously walled the chasm's edge on Home's side, preemptively mitigating the risk of accidental falls. Rather than leave the precarious drop vulnerable, she prioritized the safety of others, unwilling to bear the potential guilt of a preventable tragedy due to inadequate protective measures.

  Scout Jones's absence hadn't deterred her. She hadn't sought permission, believing her actions spoke for themselves. Improving the lives of Home's citizens was a self-evident good, and she couldn't imagine anyone, least of all a responsible leader, objecting.

  With a surge of creative energy, Bathilda had populated the newly cleared land. Pens, stables, barns, and coops materialized, each filled with a diverse array of animals. Cows, pigs, sheep, goats, and a multitude of poultry occupied their designated spaces, a living, breathing testament to her power.

  Hiro, however, seemed particularly fixated on the chickens, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What are these ridiculous-looking birds?" he asked, his voice laced with skepticism.

  "Seriously? You don't have chickens where you're from? Damn, Hiro. You are in for a treat tonight then." Bathilda's eyes gleamed with anticipation as she rubbed her hands together, the phantom taste of crispy fried chicken already dancing on her tongue.

  "You eat these...things?" He gestured towards the chickens with a look of utter disbelief. "Now that big thing over there," he pointed towards a large, placid cow, "I can see that."

  "I get where you're coming from, Hiro, but you'll understand later. Not that beef isn't legendary in its own right, but just wait till you've eaten chicken. It's so good you'll be sucking your fingers like you're a child again."

  "I am suddenly feeling impatient to try it now. What else have you left to do out here?" Hiro asked, his gaze lingering on a chicken pecking at a stubborn rock. Its small, beady eyes seemed oblivious to the world around it, a testament to its singular purpose.

  "Honestly, I don't know what else to do. This is about the extent of what I remember. I'm actually hoping the people will come out and deal with the animals and crops. I mean, I don't mind making it rain now and then to keep the crops fed, but that's about all I can do. Let's hope Scout Jones can talk them into working on it."

  "Are we going home then?" Hiro asked, his eagerness betraying his impatience. He had clearly tuned out everything after the mention of chicken.

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  "You really want to try that chicken, don't you?" Bathilda teased, a playful grin spreading across her face. Hiro blushed, a faint crimson tinting his cheeks, but he didn't deny her accusation. Bathilda chuckled, watching as he carefully grabbed a plump, squawking chicken. With a final glance at the transformed landscape, they turned and flew back towards her lodge, the promise of a delicious meal hanging in the air.

  The aftermath of fourteen buckets of fried chicken was a scene of blissful, bloated contentment. Hiro, a man of raw, unrefined senses, lay sprawled on Bathilda's plush sofa, a testament to his epicurean conquest. His normally sharp eyes were glazed with a happy, greasy sheen. A low, rumbling burp escaped his lips, a sonic punctuation to his declaration of culinary enlightenment.

  "Gravy," he rumbled, the word rolling around his tongue like a newfound treasure. "Why such a... muddy name? And yet, it tastes like... like sunshine and warm earth! How?" He punctuated his query with another prodigious gulp of the dark, fizzing liquid beside him. "And this! Cola! It's like... liquid sugar lightning!" He shook his head, a gesture of bewildered awe. "I understand now, Bathilda. I understand why you hesitated in the cave. This is... transcendental."

  Bathilda, equally replete, mirrored his posture, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Yes, Hiro. A world away from… Brat meat," she said, the name leaving a slight shudder in its wake. "Let's just say we're elevating our dining experiences. From now on, it's fast food and, as I said, fine dining." She took a slow, deliberate sip of her cola, savoring the effervescent sweetness.

  "This fine dining was indeed fast!" Hiro proclaimed, his misunderstanding bringing a chuckle from Bathilda.

  "You're adorable, Hiro," she said, patting his arm. "But no, fast food is… well, this. Fried, quick, delicious. Fine dining is something else entirely. Think tablecloths, many forks, and food you can barely pronounce. I'll show you sometime."

  Just as the last word left her lips, a sharp knock echoed through the room. Bathilda, with a groan of pleasant discomfort, heaved herself off the sofa and ambled towards the door. Upon opening it, she was met by Scout Jones, his ginger hair catching the afternoon sun like spun copper, and two figures who radiated nervous tension.

  Jones, his usual anxiety tempered by a professional air, offered a slight, almost relieved smile. "Bathilda, I'm here to report that my superiors have accepted your offer. Everything went smoothly. I've brought Gladys and Tom with me. They're the experts on agriculture and livestock, respectively. It seemed more efficient than me trying to relay all their information second-hand. Besides," he chuckled, "I was a bit overwhelmed last time, trying to remember everything."

  He gestured to the two individuals beside him. Gladys, a young woman with a cascade of blonde hair, clutched a worn leather satchel, her knuckles white. Her eyes, wide and apprehensive, darted from one version of Bathilda to another and back again. "This is Gladys," Jones explained, "she oversees all of our crop production within the walls."

  Bathilda's gaze softened. So young, she thought. And yet, entrusted with such a vital role. I hope the new fields I created aren’t overwhelming for her.

  Jones then turned to the other figure, a young man with nervous, darting eyes and a mop of brown hair. "And this is Tom. He's in charge of the Tigs, our primary source of meat. It was the promise of a reliable meat supply that truly swayed my superiors. You wouldn't believe the arguments. Meat is… well, it's a powerful motivator." He placed a reassuring hand on Tom's shoulder.

  Bathilda observed the two newcomers, their youthful faces etched with anxiety. The weight of their responsibilities seemed to press down on them, a stark contrast to the carefree contentment she and Hiro had just experienced. She wondered about the elders and superiors who had placed such trust in these young individuals.

  "Welcome, Tom. Welcome, Gladys," she said, her voice warm and reassuring. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. I'm Bathilda, and I consider myself a nurse, though healer works too. My purpose is to help people, in any way I can." She gestured towards Hiro, who offered a beaming, if slightly burp-interrupted, greeting. "And this is my companion, Hiro. He's… me for the moment."

  She paused, allowing her words to settle, hard as that was. "But let's not linger on pleasantries. You're here on important business, and I'm eager to hear what you think." Her smile remained, but her eyes held a steady, focused intensity, signaling her readiness to delve into the practicalities of their arrangement.

  The air shifted, the lingering aroma of fried chicken now mingling with a sense of anticipation and the unspoken anxieties of the young emissaries. One almost passing out as Hiro practices shifting into his male form into he way to take in a movie.