Epilogue

The farmhouse was dark and quiet, the windows thrown wide open to accept the hot breeze that tossed the gauzy white curtains. The last bags of seeds from storage rested on the kitchen table next to the trowel and watering can. Finn was asleep on the bed, sprawled in a square of sunshine, absorbing heat like a sponge. Outside, the animals wandered across the grass, grazing placidly in the shadows of the potbellied clouds that sailed over them.

"Here we go! This is the property that I was telling you about!"

Mayor Hamilton's too-excited voice cut through Finn's dreamless nap. He muttered a complaint, blinking and squinting.

"Huh." A stranger's voice, pleasant and calm, answered the Mayor. "It's pretty."

"I'm glad you think so!" Hamilton beamed. "It's been so long since we've had anyone dedicated to taking care of this place. I can't tell you how excited I am to sell it to you."

The words yanked Finn out of his nap like he was a fish on a hook.

The new farmer...!

Wings fluttering, he tumbled off the pillow and leapt towards the open window, getting tangled in the billowing curtain in the process. When he finally managed to flail himself free, he kicked the curtain aside and peered into the yard.

It was a shock to see two people standing so close to the house, since most of the townsfolk treated Melody Farm like hallowed ground. Seeing the crops being grown and harvested and the animals taken care of by invisible hands had been enough to keep mostly everyone away. Some had probably assumed that the reclusive Wizard had been working his magic on the farm at night, although he insisted he had no interest in growing weeds and shoveling manure.

But now, for the first time in over a year, there were people here. There was the Mayor, with his ridiculous fluff of curly white hair and his pale blue suit stretched over his distended stomach. His pink skin shone with sweat. Next to him stood a young woman with short brown hair and an easy smile. She wore a pale green tunic over a pair of jean shorts and carried a small square suitcase. Already, she looked a bit wilted from the heat.

"Are the animals usually allowed to wander around alone?" she asked.

Hamilton stammered. "Well, er, apparently so. I don't think they're exactly alone. This farm is a rather...special place." He dug around in his lace-lined pockets for a piece of rolled up paper, shooing away a chicken with one foot. "So, what brought you to Castanet, Miss...?"

"Angela." The girl replied, accepting the farming contract that Hamilton handed to her. She swept her eyes over the farm again, her smile broadening as she was forced to step out of the way of the line of ducks that marched past her towards the pond. "I can't really say," she continued, her voice distant. "It's kind of weird. I just got the idea one day that I should come here."

"I see, I see," Hamilton said. "Do you have experience with growing crops or raising animals, or anything like that?"

"None at all," Angela said cheerfully. "If I'm going to live here, I'll have to learn as I go."

The Mayor chuckled. "Well, you couldn't have picked a better place to learn, Miss Angela. The crops practically grow themselves on this piece of land. Of course, it wasn't always like that."

"I believe it." She turned a slow circle, frowning at the rickety farmhouse and the huge, empty fields. "Still, it looks like it's going to be an awful lot of work."

"Oh, of course, but don't fret. Everyone in town will be willing to help you out, so don't be afraid to ask for anything. It's usually how new folks make friends in Castanet. In fact," he said, gesturing down the path, "if you'll come back to town with me, we can get all this paperwork signed, and then I'll walk with you and introduce you to all the friendly faces around here."

"I'd like that." Angela picked up her suitcase.

"Good, good! Now, I won't expect you to pay for everything up front..."

Finn climbed the rest of the way out of the window, watching the two people walk back towards Harmonica Town, their chatting voices growing distant. The cows, flicking their tails, went back to grazing. Abriel snorted and trotted into the open barn to escape the heat.

"She's here already," Finn whispered, wringing his hands. "She can't be here already. It's too soon."

A few hours later, Angela trudged back up the hill, laden with her suitcase and several pounds of welcoming gifts from the residents of Harmonica Town. Nudging the front door open with her foot, she shuffled inside, dropped her suitcase by the door, and dumped the freshly caught trout (from Toby and Renee), cold medicine (from Jin), and straw hat (from Candace and Luna) on the table next to the bag of seeds. From his perch atop the bookshelf, Finn watched as she wandered around the room: scrubbing at the layer of dust on the floor with the toe of her boot, inspecting the empty refrigerator, pulling open the tool chest to reveal all of Molly's farming gear.

"Well, good," she mused, shutting the lid. "I have everything I need to make a complete fool of myself." Walking over to the bed, she flopped face down onto it, sending up a cloud of dust from the comforter. "Okay, Fairy-Lady," she called into the fabric. "If you want to give me a hint as to what I should do next, that would be great."

Fairy-Lady? Finn wondered. Does she mean the Harvest Goddess?

Angela rubbed her hand over the comforter, eyebrows drawing together at the childish patterns of flowers and fish on each quilted square. It was one Molly had chosen for its price, not its design. Finn loved it—and to his horror, Angela sat up and proceeded to strip it from the bed and fling it into the corner.

"First things first," Angela coughed. "This place needs a little attention."

The harvest sprite clapped his hands over his mouth as she reached up and removed the curtain rod, dumping the curtains on the floor as well. "Ruffle curtains, honestly?" she snorted. "Step one: get valances. Step two, strip the wallpaper and buy some eggshell paint." She sneezed. "...Make that step three."

It was too much for Finn. "Stop!" he shrieked, throwing himself off of the bookshelf. "What do you think you're doing to her things?"

Angela shrieked as well and dropped the curtain rod. She spun around to find herself eye-level with a tiny green-haired person in an orange tunic and hat. Even though he was shouting at her, his voice was no louder than hummingbird wings.

"You just got here and already you're messing everything up! You're supposed to leave everything just like it is! Don't just come in here and start changing everything. Who do you think you are?"

She blinked, her eyes crossing a little as she tried to focus on him. "Oh," she said. "Who are you?"

"And don't you even think of throwing away any of her stuff!" Finn continued, waving his tiny fists around. "And don't sell the animals, and don't cut down any trees! We worked hard for years to get everything on his farm just right. You won't be forgiven if you mess it up!"

Angela's surprised look shifted to one of mild amusement. "Well, this wouldn't be a very good farm if it didn't have any animals on it, would it?"

"No it would NOT!" Finn huffed, crossing his arms and turning his back on her. Despite the rude welcome, she found herself grinning.

"I like you," she said cheerfully. "What's your name?"

Finn adjusted his hat, a little taken aback by her politeness. "Finn," he said begrudgingly. "I'm a harvest sprite. And this is my farm, so you can't go changing things!" Forgive me, Harvest Goddess, he prayed, but I just can't hand the farm over. It's mine. It's Molly's!

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude on your property. See, the Mayor told me that this place was for sale, and I thought—" Suddenly, she noticed his wings. "Hey!" she cried, clapping her hands. "You must be related to the Fairy-Lady."

Finn gave her a cautious look. "Who?"

"Well, I don't know if she's a who, but she started appearing in my dreams a couple months ago. She's very beautiful and very kind, just like I always imagined fairies being like, so that's why I call her Fairy-Lady." Her voice drifted off, and she crossed her arms pensively. "In fact, I don't know why I think she's kind or anything. She never speaks to me. She just stands there and smiles, and I feel like I'm moving towards her. I feel it even when I'm awake. The feeling got so strong a couple weeks ago that I just…I don't know, I just sold my house and started walking, and then before I knew it, I ended up…here." She smiled weakly. "Quit my job and everything, just for some strange dream lady. She's beautiful, though. I don't expect you know anything about her, do you?"

She was called. She is the farmer, after all. "The Harvest Goddess," Finn said, defeated. "She watches over the land. She's been waiting for you."

Angela brightened. "Really? She's a real person?"

"Goddess," Finn corrected. Angela flushed.

"Oh, sorry. A goddess, huh? I never would've thought." She laughed nervously. "What would she want with me? I don't know anything about this kind of stuff. Back home, I was waiting tables."

"That doesn't matter," the sprite said. "She wanted you to come, and you did. She wants you to…to take care of this farm. With me," he added, firmly. "That's what I did with…with Molly. And I'm very good at it, now. S-so if you want to know anything about farming, just ask me!" He thumped his chest. "I am a harvest sprite, after all!"

"Well, harvest sprite Finn, my name is Angela." The girl said. "I will try my absolute best!"

"And you'd better not mess anything up!"

Angela beamed at him. "I'll try not to," she said good-naturedly. "Well, if this is your farm, why don't you show me around?"

He showed her the coop and the barn. Outside, the animals sniffed at her clothes when she had her back to them, but scattered when she tried to pet them. She shrugged it off, laughing.

They walked to the hot springs and strolled around the fields. Finn was pointing out the southern boundary that lined the beach when she interrupted him with a gasp.

"Holy cow. That thing is huge."

Finn turned to see Angela staring at the orchard. The neat rows of fruit trees swayed in the light wind, leaves hushing against each other and throwing dappled patterns on the dark earth. Towering above the cherries and oranges and chestnuts was an apple tree. It was a giant, easily twice the size of even its fellow apples, with a gnarled, sturdy trunk and thick, leafy branches that spread out over the whole orchard like a fluffy green cumulous cloud. Each bough was heavy with huge, ruby-hued apples. Even from a distance, she could see them sparkling.

Finn flew over to her. "That's her apple tree," he said proudly. "Do you like it?"

"That's an apple tree?" she asked, dumbfounded. "That thing's a monster!"

"It's very special."

Angela whistled lowly. "That's what people keep saying about this place. I'm starting to...believe it..." Trailing off, she squinted at the upper boughs. There was a brightness behind the leaves that wasn't coming from the apples. "That's funny. For a second there I thought I saw—"

Finn's sniffling interrupted her. Alarmed, Angela turned to see the sprite using his hat's pom-pom to dab at his eyes. "Whoa! Uh, what's wrong?"

Finn dropped like a rock onto the grass and proceeded to bawl. "It's not going to be the same!" he wailed. "You're nice, but it won't be the s-same!"

His distant weeping sounded like a mosquito buzz. Befuddled, Angela looked around, scratching her head, and finally decided not to embarrass the sprite by laughing at how adorable he sounded.

"H-hey," she said, squatting down next to him. "Don't be upset. I'm sure she was a really nice person. I'm sorry that she's...I'm sorry." She thought about patting him on the back but didn't want to knock him into his face. Desperately, she searched for a way to make the strange little sprite happier. "Oh, hey, tell you what. I'm pretty hungry, and I bet you could do with some food, too. Let's go back inside and I'll make us some lunch, and then you can tell me where you want me to plant those seeds I saw on the table inside. Does that sound like a plan?"

With some effort, Finn raised his head from his hat and peered at her with huge, shining eyes. She snorted into her shoulder. "I make really, really good soup," she added to encourage him. "And we can eat some ice cream on the porch afterwards, to cool off?"

As if on cue, Finn's stomach rumbled. He swallowed his tears and nodded.

Angela beamed and held her hand out to him. Good, we're getting somewhere! "Okay, then. Hop on."

Finn studied her face. She had an honest expression and a kind smile. She had seen the Harvest Goddess in her dreams. It would be a while before he got used to the sound of her humming in the garden-she was an incredible singer-but she was kind to the animals and kind to Finn, and even if she wasn't as talented a farmer as Molly had been, she was a quick learner and a hard worker and a good friend. He couldn't have asked for more.

"What do you say, buddy? Want to be farmers together?"

He climbed into her palm, and together, with one last look at the apple tree, they walked back to the farmhouse.

It was high summer, and all of Castanet was green and growing.

Sitting high in the boughs of Molly's tree, Ignis picked an apple, bit into it, and watched the ages turn before him.

The Farmer's Hymn

Soil, water, warm sunshine
My strength is yours, your breath is mine
You're the mountain, I'm the sea
Between us stands the apple tree.

I bury seeds, you make them grow
From far above to far below
Your bright light washes over me,
And upon the apple tree.

It towers where it has taken root
I've never seen such lovely fruit
O Harvest Lord, o come and see
The beauty of the apple tree.

Soon enough the leaves will fall
And freezing snow will cover all
My final resting place will be
Underneath the apple tree.

So stretch your hand across my grave
Breathe life back into your slave
So we may once again be three:
Farmer, God, and apple tree.

I'll be reborn and we'll join hands
And both of us will bless these lands
We'll grow together, you and me,
When we plant the apple tree.

-Fin-

Some notes about this story:

1. Apple seeds grow completely different apples than the apples they are taken from. Trying to grow a specific kind of tree (say, one that produces red apples) would have nothing to do with what kind of seed is planted. In reality, Molly would have had to graft a branch from an apple tree that was already producing red apples onto root stock. I obviously ignored this fact of nature, ha. It's symbolism, dammit.

2. I know I mentioned that, during the storm in chapter four, the trees already had fruit even though it was only springtime. Let's pretend that I meant to convey that the apples were growing but hadn't fully ripened yet. :I

3. In chapter six, Molly wants to make her coop bigger in order to include ostriches. Hashtag I forgot that ostriches go in the barn. Derp.

4. I envisioned Molly dying of a hemorrhagic stroke, which is a pretty severe diagnosis to give someone in their twenties. That's why I ambiguously blamed "treacherous genetics". I could make an argument that she had really high blood pressure and a history of arrhythmia. There isn't really a romantic/angsty way of explaining all this, though.

5. The cadence and rhyme of the Farmer's Hymn was ripped right from a hymn called "Jesus Christ the Apple Tree", because I am a dirty plagiarizer.

To all the readers of Apple Tree, I am incredibly grateful for the time you all spent reading and reviewing it. You all are so kind and encouraging! Special thanks to Accidentally The Whole Fanfic for his thorough and analytical reviews and to thug_4_less for his readership and support for this story despite the fact that he's never picked up a Harvest Moon game in his life. :3

I hope everyone has a very safe and merry Christmas! Until next time!