Sunny trotted forth, Moritz behind, still salty about earlier. Sunny trotted down into a vineyard. “Sunny!” Moritz called, fearing that they had neared the Harvester. Sunny came to a halt, and as Moritz caught up, he saw why. The Harvester was in front of them. His shape bending, it is impossible to describe him. His skin color shifted hues, making it nearly impossible to picture who is standing before you.

“Do you require my assistance?” He asked, his loud voice shaking the Earthen Furnace. Though Sunny was a sweet and kind Courser at heart, he often made trouble unintentionally. “Yes, actually we do.” The small weld palomino Courser pipped up. Moritz’s face felt hot, and went flush. “Sir, I’m-” Moritz started, their voice shaking. “No need, Moritz, no need.” The Harvester cut him off. “Sunny, what kind of assistance do you require?” He asked, his voice still booming. “I want protection, for me, and my friend Moritz.” Sunny said happily, as though the Harvester is an old friend, whom he has known for years. “Why exactly do you need my protection?” The Harvester questioned. “Safety is an illusion, you should know that best. With all the spirits who want, sorry need, to kill someone I think it’s safer to be traveling with you.” Sunny said, as though his ask was completely normal and acceptable. Moritz trembled, they were sure the Harvester would kill both them and Sunny. The Harvester nodded, and the world went black.

Sunny and Moritz awoke in a field of yellow flowers. “Help me, and I will help you, little yellow Courser.” The Harvester spoke, his words chipping into Moritz’s skull. “What do you need me to do?” Sunny asked. “Not you, both of you. If you expect me to help both of you, then you both must help me.” The Harvester replied. Sunny glanced at Moritz, who at this point was shivering, wet, and scared. “What do you need us to do?” Sunny corrected. Moritz was furious. Could Sunny really not see how scared, cold, and soaked he was? “Harvest this field of yellow flowers. Once you are done, say ‘Galatea’ three times, and all will be well.” The Harvester spoke, and disappeared. 

Sunny began picking the flowers, and throwing them into a large basket that sat where the Harvester once stood. Moritz, despite his fear, helped Sunny. 

“He seems nice.” Sunny smiled, picking the sweet and fragrant flowers. “That’s if he doesn’t kill us.” Moritz cautioned. “Why would he?” Sunny asked, but Moritz could not bring himself to answer that question. Moritz felt an eerie feeling of being watched the entire time, while they picked the sweet yellow flowers.