The Flood

  "Sorry...sorry...sorry..." The farmer's whispers could barely be heard over the torrential rain lashing down on the roof of the Community Centre as she tip-toed amongst the dozens of sleeping bags on the floor.

The rain had started two weeks previous—first nothing but a drizzle, then a relentless mist that hung endlessly in the atmosphere, and soon settling for sheets of water that flooded the farm and had the sea's tide rising higher than anybody in Pelican Town had ever witnessed before. Willy, followed by Elliott, were the first to be evicted by the weather. They were quickly packed up and moved to stay with whoever could offer the room further in-land, though as the flood continued to rise within the town also, everybody eventually gathered in the old Community Centre. Even Linus, who's obnoxiously-yellow tent was at risk of being washed down the mountain-side, had succumbed to the pounding rain and taken the extended offer of keeping dry inside for the time being.

Marnie's ranch caused panic for all, especially Shane. When the fields flooded, her cattle and chickens were kept indoors in the barn, much to their distaste. However, once they found themselves with wet hooves and claws, and with the sea at Marnie's doorstep, they were evacuated to the newly-restored farm just North of them, then further to a fenced-off section in the mountains. The new farmer's animals had all been moved, too—the chickens, ducks, rabbits, cows, goats and horse—and all that was left was the orange tabby cat wrapped up in her sunshine-yellow raincoat, and the Highland calf that never took to his mother's milk.

His tiny hooves trotted amongst the sleeping bags in the main hall, alerting all other residents of Pelican Town that the multi-skilled farmer had arrived. Eventually, they made their way to a corner of the room, where a nest of blankets and quilts were already spread out beside a couple of sleeping bags. Elliott was there, propped up on one elbow, awaiting her return.

"Did all of your animals travel alright?" he asked, taking the first opportunity to bundle the young calf up in an old, warm towel.

"All except Mustard."

As she spoke, the orange tabby cat leapt out of his confines, glared back at her over his shoulder, and immediately took to Elliott's welcoming lap. Despite his sodden fur, he settled into a song of purrs, accompanied by the occasional cheerful mew every time he was scratched just right behind the ears.

Elliott softly straightened out his whiskers, watching out of the corner of his eye as the farmer settled the calf down. "Studley," he heard her call him. He looked no more than a week old, with his spindly legs and scraggly excuse for a fluffy mop of hair between his ears. However, Elliott knew how the farmer had given up her sleep and care of her early-Spring produce to keep Studley alive for the past month when he and his mother unfortunately failed to connect.

Soon, he tucked himself into the nest, burrowing his head down under the thickest blanket, and lulled himself to sleep in the darker atmosphere. The farmer let out a sigh of relief, finally being able to shed her raincoat and boots off into a heap on the floor. A terrible clatter arose as a pile of horse treats fell onto the floorboards and rolled over to Abigail. She laughed at the following string of apologies, then flicked the treats back across the floor.

As soon as the farmer sat down upon her sleeping bag, Mustard crawled over, a greedy glint in his green eyes. He licked his lips.

"You ate before we left home, silly," she playfully scoffed, patting the top of his head. "No more until morning."

Elliott leaned over. "Should you ever need me to do anything to help you at all, do remember that I'm here."

She shook her head, yawning as she did so. "I don't expect you to help me."

"But I shall nonetheless."

A short portion of the evening was spent discussing Studley and his feeding times. Thankfully, they were not as outrageous as Elliott feared, though he still offered to give the first bottle of the day to allow the farmer to have an attempt at a lie-in. Then, he made plans to assist in checking on the animals as well, with the addition of Marnie and Shane, and possibly Jas if she was interested enough.

It was not until Mustard slinked back over to Elliott's lap with a curious meow that he realised the farmer had fallen asleep, head leaning on his shoulder. What he had assumed was a friendly way to express attentiveness in their conversation had actually transformed into exhaustion, and now he was as stiff as a rock, hardly daring to take a breath lest he wake her.

Eyebrows were certainly raised in their direction, alongside snickering from Abigail and Sam, who could not seem to keep a straight face if their lives depended on it. They were chattering in hushed whispers, kept secret by the stormy weather, but as the rain finally began to let up an hour into their gossip, it became clear that they had some relatively romantic suspicions.

Quite fanfiction-like, if you will...