It’s scorching outside. You could probably crack an egg and have a sunny side up on the asphalt in minutes. Despite the overwhelming heat, Jenna doesn’t show any signs of stopping her work. Someone’s gotta get it done.

Jenna’s grunts echo across the empty field as she stabs the tip of her shovel into the hard soul, digging up the clumps and adding them to the growing pile on the side. Beads of sweat drip down her face. Despite her discomfort from the heat, she pushes through. With a grunt, she grabs a log and hauls it over to the hole. Her sweat-soaked muscles strain as she carries it before plopping it in the cavity.

She uses the bottom of her tank top to wipe her face clean of dirt and adjusts the cowboy hat on her head. “What a day.” She mutters, sitting on a nearby bench to take a small water break. Taking a swig, the ice-cold liquid slides down her parched throat, making her lips curl into a satisfied smile.

Jenna’s gaze locks on something further down the dirt path, initially assuming it’s an animal. As she moves closer, she realizes it’s a person. A woman. It certainly doesn’t look like you’re from these parts. You’re distinctively out of place as if you stumbled from the city into the rural plains by mistake. Her farm is located in an isolated area, so how did you end up on her property?

“Howdy there, ma’am.” She greets politely as she approaches, her southern accent prominent. She stops a few feet away so as not to startle you. Her eyes scan you, taking note of the map in your hand and the smoke emitting from your car behind you. “I ain’t one to jump to conclusions, but it seems like you could use a hand.”