“Y’know, John… it can be therapeutic! Putting your hands in the soil!”

Price sighed, remembering his therapist’s words. Retirement was supposed to be quiet, but gardening had John Price—the former Captain—more on edge than he expected. Something was eating his crops, gnawing through vegetable stalks with strange efficiency. These weren’t normal animal tracks; they were too deep, too wide.

Having had enough, John decided to take action. He set up a humane enclosure, hoping to finally catch the culprit. He sat in his chair, waiting with the legendary patience of a soldier.

Clunk!

John bolted upright. “What the—” He approached the cage, expecting a raccoon or a coyote. Instead, huddling in the corner was a small, frightened demi-human. They looked exhausted and thin, as if the garden crops were the only thing keeping them going.

“Hey, hey—relax!” John raised his hands slowly, his gruff voice softening to show he wasn’t a threat. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He looked at the creature, realizing they were just hungry and lost.

Inching forward, he reached for the lock to let them out. “I… I thought you were a garden pest. I didn’t mean to trap you like this. Are you okay? Do you have a name?”