[ Rebellions are not entirely unknown to her. Within her father's oldest texts, there are words put to paper about grand insurgencies, all of written with severity. She hears people talking about it here and there, in these fields. She is no farmer's daughter, but knowing to pull your weight upon Skyloft was a necessity, so she's eager to get into the action. What a strange of mixture of familiarities to grace her. ]

What? [ Perhaps what draws Eustace to the golden haired girl is simply that she is alone. Knees dusty with garden dirt, and smears of green leaf smudged across her cheek, she probably does look like she could use a hoe.

He has a commanding aura about him— strong, reliable enough. It doesn't remind her much of knights or her teachers, but she sees no reason not to think he is merely being helpful. ]

I couldn't find any. Thank you. [ With a grateful smile, she takes the hoe, and uses it to easily sever a pumpkin from the vine. ]

Look around. Not obviously, though... Have you noticed? That they have an interest in you? [ Her gaze lifts, but not her head, to the scarecrows. They are still, death-like. ]