Wild Hearts

Chapter Two

 The next morning, I wake up to the harsh crow of the rooster.

"Morning, Barbie," I mutter, pulling on my oldest jeans and a worn T-shirt. My father's choice in getting me durable boots is a small comfort as I head out to manage the farm.

The cool morning air hits me like a splash of icy water. I shiver slightly, already missing the warmth of my bed. My boots crunch uncomfortably on the gravel path as I make my way to the barn.

I approach the cows first. Their large, curious eyes follow me, and I force a smile while stroking their heads, trying to ignore the dirt and lingering smell. As I fill their troughs with feed and water, the rhythmic sound of their munching offers a small comfort, easing my nerves.

Next, I trudge over to the pigsty. The pigs greet me with loud snorts and grunts, jostling each other as I pour their feed. The stench is overpowering, and I hold my breath, my stomach churning. I check their water quickly, then move on as fast as I can.

Finally, I reach the chicken coop, my least favorite stop. The hens are already glaring at me like I have trespassed on their territory. I toss some grain, hoping it will calm them down, but no such luck. The moment I step inside, they charge at me, wings flapping and clucking like they are plotting my downfall. I nervously reach under a hen for an egg, and she lets out a screech, pecking at my hand like I have just stolen her most prized possession. Suddenly, they all join in, a feathery army surrounding me with vengeance in their eyes.

Panicking, I grab the last egg and make a run for it, the basket bouncing in my hand as I dodge beaks and flapping wings. "I don't even want your stupid eggs!" I shout, as one of them leaps at my leg, nearly tripping me. I barely make it out, slamming the coop door behind me while the hens crash into it like feathery missiles. Breathless, I look at the few eggs I managed to save and wonder how this became my life. All I wanted was some peace—and maybe Wi-Fi.

With my chores finally done, I wipe the sweat from my brow. The animals are fed and happy, but exhaustion weighs heavily on me. I long for the familiarity of my city life as I head back to the farmhouse, eager to clean up and start the rest of my day.

By the time I am ready for college, it is already seven. I walk into the kitchen where my father waits, a plate of eggs and toast along with a glass of orange juice set out for me. The kitchen's rustic charm is evident in every corner. The wide, weathered wooden floorboards creak underfoot. Sunlight streams through the small, paned windows, casting warm, golden rays over the faded curtains. The walls are lined with open wooden shelves, filled with mismatched crockery and well-worn pots, their copper surfaces dulled by years of use. In the center of the room sits a sturdy oak table, its surface scratched, with a few nicks where knives had been sharpened too close. The large cast-iron stove in the corner adds a comforting warmth, its black surface still slightly warm from cooking breakfast. The faint scent of fresh coffee and wood smoke mingles with the aroma of food, wrapping the room in a sense of familiarity and home.

"I must admit, I thought it'd be much harder to get you to do your chores. But you've done well. I'm impressed," he says, his tone warm with a touch of surprise. "Though, I heard the chickens gave you quite the run for your money this morning. I was half expecting to see you sprinting down the road with them chasing after you!"

I nod, "Trying to get out early for good behavior." I add with a grin, "And maybe to avoid another chicken chase tomorrow."

A flicker of disappointment crosses his face, and I feel a pang of guilt. I understand that my attempt at humor did not land well.

"Well, I hope you have a good first day," he says, his voice softening.

I finish my breakfast and wash the dishes with quick, efficient movements. Grabbing my college bag, I head out the door. The brisk morning air is a welcome change from the farm's stifling heat. Each step towards the campus fills me with relief as I prepare to embrace the new academic challenges ahead.