:| Transactions |: {arc}
Jun 10, 2016 16:09:41 GMT -5
Post by ᕙʕ•ᴥ•ʔᕗ on Jun 10, 2016 16:09:41 GMT -5
“Not today,” they told me, shaking their heads as they scribbled an address on a small piece of paper. “You’re going to this ranch.” Was this their way of telling me I’m fired? Was this a place they had set up an interview? The look of confusion on my face must have alerted them, because they started waving their arms and chuckling. “No no, nothing like that. This is just a business trip. We need another cow on the ranch so we don’t have inbreeding. There’s a family nearby that also has their ranch still, and we were thinking of either an exchange or just buying one off of them.” A wave of relief washed over me as I eagerly nodded my head—they must have thought highly of me if they were letting me do the job—and looked at the address.
It wasn’t too far off, perhaps a solid 20 minute walk, and the heat hadn’t quite settled into the district despite being trapped by noxious gases from the factory. Perhaps in the afternoon, the heat would become unbearable but the hour was still early and I didn’t want to waste any time. Gathering my belongings and a pack that my employers had given me, I set down the path, eager to see another ranch.
We had once owned our own ranch, but when the factories came in and the air became worse, we started losing our animals. It was like the death of Storm meant the death of life as we knew it. The smaller animals had gone first, then the horses. The death of the horses hurt Sundra the most as she loved them just as I loved the cows. We had one stubborn one, though, who refused to leave until there was nothing we could do for her. A part of me was jealous of the families wealthy enough to still have their ranches; another part of me was thankful because without them, I would have had to work in the refinery for the rest of my life.
This ranch was modest enough: it didn’t look like there were many workers. In fact, I wasn’t sure they had hired any outside help. It must have been a family ranch, reminiscent of the old District 5 days. Clutching on to my bag, I hurried forward, trying to find someone who either looked like they knew what they were doing or knew someone who could help me. I approached a boy, not many years younger than me, who looked like he had an early start to the day as well. “Excuse me, is this where I can find the Steerfoots? I’m here from the Blackcoats.”
It wasn’t too far off, perhaps a solid 20 minute walk, and the heat hadn’t quite settled into the district despite being trapped by noxious gases from the factory. Perhaps in the afternoon, the heat would become unbearable but the hour was still early and I didn’t want to waste any time. Gathering my belongings and a pack that my employers had given me, I set down the path, eager to see another ranch.
We had once owned our own ranch, but when the factories came in and the air became worse, we started losing our animals. It was like the death of Storm meant the death of life as we knew it. The smaller animals had gone first, then the horses. The death of the horses hurt Sundra the most as she loved them just as I loved the cows. We had one stubborn one, though, who refused to leave until there was nothing we could do for her. A part of me was jealous of the families wealthy enough to still have their ranches; another part of me was thankful because without them, I would have had to work in the refinery for the rest of my life.
This ranch was modest enough: it didn’t look like there were many workers. In fact, I wasn’t sure they had hired any outside help. It must have been a family ranch, reminiscent of the old District 5 days. Clutching on to my bag, I hurried forward, trying to find someone who either looked like they knew what they were doing or knew someone who could help me. I approached a boy, not many years younger than me, who looked like he had an early start to the day as well. “Excuse me, is this where I can find the Steerfoots? I’m here from the Blackcoats.”
