A story in response to the newest Writing Game challenge over at the Village Square forums. Prompt 1: to write something about the lesser characters in AWL/AnWL. And man, Nina is such a cute old lady, I couldn't stop myself. It's a little on the short side, even for me, but any constructive criticism will be met with joy and rainbows and sparkles and cookies.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harvest Moon; if I did, I'd have never killed off the cutest character in FMN Valley at the second chapter in the game.

The sun had set long ago as Nina leaned on one of the trees surrounding the swamp. The moon shone brightly in a cloudless sky, but her eyes were fixed on the swamp turtle. She tilted her head, snow white curls bouncing, brow slightly furrowed. Was it her imagination and the moonlight or was the scarf she made for it slightly frayed? She moved to investigate more closely when a sharp "Nina!" coming from the direction of the Inn stopped her in her tracks. With a sigh, she turned to face her husband of countless years.

"He's still the worry wart I married," Nina muttered, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Nina! It's late, what are you doing out?" Galen stopped at the edge of the swamp, one hand on his hip, the other gripping his cane tightly, looking for all the world like the crotchety old man that everyone thought he was. His wife giggled, causing Galen to frown further. "You're going to get sick if you keep coming out here at night with that turtle," He said, a touch petulant when Nina's giggles didn't stop.

"Oh dear, Turtle is my friend. But I suppose it is getting late. I'll go home," she acquiesced, shuffling towards the house they shared, Galen by her side. They traveled in companionable silence, until Nina paused beside the Inn. Her husband turned to look at her, worried until he saw the silly grin that was quickly overtaking her features.

"How about a race?" Nina exclaimed, bouncing on her heels. Galen rolled his eyes.

"A race? Nina, we're not kids anymore. In fact, our grandkids are too old for that."

Nina rolled her eyes in response. "You're never too old for a little fun," she pointed out. The couple stared at each other for a few beats, before Galen finally sighed in defeat. Nina's grin returned stronger than before as she took off laughing, her husband's sputtered indignations left behind her.

"Come on, slow poke," she shouted gleefully, passing the Inn's doors. The valley was filled with the sound of feet and canes on the cobblestone path as the two raced.

Finally, Nina reached the door of their old house, a panting Galen soon joining her. She leaned down to place her hands on her knees, a grin never leaving her face. "I win," she announced happily through her labored breaths. Her husband eyed her worriedly as he opened the door for her.

She went through and proceeded to the small kitchenette, humming happily. Galen, worries appeased, made his way over to the bonsai plant, frowning to cover up the smile that was threatening to make itself shown. He knew if he smiled, Nina would never let him hear the end of it. She'd probably want to race more often, even.

Turning from his plant, he caught sight of his wife carrying the tea tray over to their small table. "Dear, come have something to drink. You need it after a night at the races." She smiled beatifically at him and he knew his face carried the same expression as he walked over to sit beside his wife. She really was the same carefree girl that he fell in love with all those years ago.

--

Outside, at the Blue Bar, Muffy leaned against the door frame, chuckling softly. Griffin came up beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "What's so funny?"

The pretty blonde turned her head towards him. "Nina and Galen. They were racing." She smiled up at her employer.

"I suppose in a marriage that long, you have to do something to keep it fresh," Griffin chuckled as her turned back inside, noting all the things that still needed cleaning.

Muffy sighed as she turned to join him. "They really love each other," she commented wistfully, before taking up the discarded cleaning rag and proceeding to wipe down the bar.