It had been a few weeks since she traveled across the lands to the border village, and Balhira was back home and preparing to recoop her losses. She knew that she needed to focus on over-stocking her items, which meant being a little creative or putting in extra work. The extra work would be in the form of the harvest. Thankfully all she needed to do was work to collect enough to stock her pantry, and that shouldn't take too long. Plus she could use the additional practice of gathering the reeds their town was known for.

So, as the early morning sun lit the swamps in a murky, misty glow, she found herself swimming with the rest of the group toward the reedlands. The reeds were tall and wispy, ready to be cut down so they could go dormant for the off-season. It wasn't easy work, and most of the resources would go back into the village, but if you did enough you could walk away with your own stack to prepare for whatever use needed.

The days of harvest were long and hard-going, something many of the Menehune were adapted to but it didn't stop it from being so. Balhira found herself digging deep into the reeds, a monotonous routine that fell into a simple pattern. She almost became meditative in the process, her mind wandering as it took in the sounds of the nature and the others around her. There was no discussion, just a simple existence of a hardworking tribe doing what they did best. Accomplishing a task together.

At the end of the first evening, the group returned home with long reeds that would be dried out and used for platforms and roof spaces. The swamps didn't get too much in terms of weather, but every year there was a risk of a strong storm sweeping up their homes, so it was important to reinforce and ensure each neighbor was protected from the elements. Didn't matter if they were young or old, their community was all about protecting each other.

Another thing Balhira felt was lost upon the Earthling that came through as tourists. They lacked the appreciation and focus on community.

The next few days went on much of the same, and after a long week they had gathered enough resources that most went home. Those who remained were now working for themselves. Balhira usually would stay a day or two, but she planned to get nearly double her resources to make up next year, and so she planned to work until she needed nothing else.

Another week went by, and her home was full to the brim. It came to the point where she couldn't do anything else - her space was full and she was left deciding if she continue to help others or head home. Her muscles were sore, her fingers worn, and she decided it would probably be best to stop. She had done her duty to her community, selfishly gathered enough to make up for the loss, and so she was satisfied. Nodding to the people who worked around her, she left home on one last trip for the season.

The next few hours she simply laid on the pad of her home, looking up at the ceiling and letting the ache of her muscle set in. It was always so satisfying to work, and she didn't appreciate it as much as she should. No, she was focused on the small details of her art, the smoke and the smoldering. Her muscles weren't as strong as others because of it, so the ache lasted for days. A hard days work truly did set in.

As the harvest season came to a close, it was time to take advantage of the cooling air and dry out the reeds so they could cool during the winter. It was a small window, especially with the extra work she put in, but still very much manageable. It just meant she was working each day, instead of taking time off, which for a Menehune was the way to be.

They always worked hard, harder than most in their own opinions, and ensured their efforts paid off. But it wasn't about the pay, in fact it was more about the service provided and their community they lived in. It was a simple life, but a life none the less and one she was proud to have been raised in. She couldn't imagine it any other way.