In a quiet rural town, 13-year-old Ethan Alexander lives a humble life as an orphan raised by kind-hearted farmers. Unknown to him, his lineage is not as ordinary as his surroundings; he is the rare hybrid of a werewolf and a vampire-a secret that h...
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The morning sun, peacefully introduced itself through the opening of my window. I can feel the warmth from its burning rays creeping upon my blanket, and the cool breeze from the winter winds blowing through my room. My eyes slowly begin to open, my ears listening to the dead leaves being ruffled about. I sluggishly roll out of bed, to start my morning chores.
The day was slow, and cold. Without my father here, everything seemed so difficult. Before bed last night, Mother came into my room, tucked me in and told me he would leave early this morning to the Arcadian Kingdom to talk with the council. I was saddened by the news even though I overheard their conversation. It really bothered me that he left without a goodbye.
The air outside is crisp and biting as I bundle up, slipping on my thick woolen gloves and buttoning my coat against the chill. The world outside was blanketed in a layer of soft, white snow, the familiar sights of our farm transformed into a winter wonderland. I took a deep breath, the cold air stinging my lungs, and step outside, my boots crunching on the frozen ground.
I head straight for the barn, where the comforting smell of hay and horses awaits me. Mom is already in there, her hands busy as she cleans the stable. I admire how she maneuvers effortlessly, brushing aside the bedding so that the space is pristine for the animals. "Morning, Mother!" I call out, making my way towards the feed bins.
"Good morning, sweetheart! It's quite chilly today, isn't it?" she replies without looking up, her focus unwavering as she removes the old straw.
I nod, even though she can't see me. I love this routine; it grounds me. I pour feed into the trough for the horses, the sound of the grains cascading into their trough mingling with the soft whickers and snorts from the animals. I glance at the horses, their breath forming little clouds of vapor in the cold. They nuzzle my hand hopefully as I approach, and I can't help but smile.
After ensuring they're fed, I gather the buckets to fetch water. The well is a bit frozen, but I know how to work around that, and soon enough, I'm hauling the heavy buckets back to the barn. My arms strain against the weight, the muscles burning from the effort, but it's a satisfying kind of toughness.
Once I return, I find Mom has finished cleaning the first stall and is now working on the second. I join her, grabbing a pitchfork to help spread fresh bedding around. The rhythmic scrape against the wooden floor echoes in the barn, mixed with the soft rustling of hay. When we work together like this, it feels less like a chore and more like a shared dance—a well-rehearsed routine.
The sun creeps higher, its weak rays filtering through the cramped windows, casting a soft glow in the otherwise dim barn. "Are you excited for the spring?" Mom asks, pausing for a moment to wipe her brow. "It'll be nice to see everything come to life again."
I nod. "Yeah, I can't wait to plant the new seeds. And the baby animals! They'll be running around everywhere." A smile breaks across my face at the thought of watching them bound through the fields, becoming playful distractions from the hard work of the farm.
