Like most ranchers in central-eastern Texas, Kale Danzing-Moon was up with the dawn, feeding the pigs and chickens before getting on horseback to see the cattle and then returning to the house to wake her two children, 6 year old Emma and 7 year old Brian. She had no husband. Not anymore. He was one of the first men to enlist in the army after 9/11 and shortly after setting his boots in Iraq, had been killed in action. Kale could understand his sense of duty. She too had been military once. Navy instead of Army. Her stint on active duty was brief, just 5 years in the 90s as a Surface Warfare Officer but she'd been in the reserves ever since and was steadily making her way to the 20 year mark where she'd begin to receive full benefits. Her throat burned and eyes watered at the memory of that fateful message that came through on December 2. That was 2 months ago, shortly before Christmas. She'd told her children right away, believing it unfair to keep such a thing from them. They'd mourned over Christmas. It was the 1st of February now and they were just coming to terms with their grief.
Forcing back her emotion, Kale marched up the stairs and into her children's room. Two beds sat on opposite sides of the room, one next to the window the shades of which were pulled tightly down, the other up against the opposing wall. A closet faced both of them holding much of the children's large clothes and toys.
"Time to wake up! Sun's a shinin'!" Kale pulled the shades on the window, allowing the sunlight to stream in full force.
Emma was silent as she emerged from the covers, her curly blonde locks falling around her face. She looked at her mother with bleary sleepy eyes. Brian was a bit more talkative. "Mom, it's a Saturday!" He whined.
"Is it? I didn't notice." Kale replied, a bit of a smirk on her face. It was that "there's work to be done so let's get moving and you know I'm right that there is so you have to" smirk.
Brian grumbled a bit more but hauled himself out of bed. Little Emma held her stuffed bunny "Armadillo" under her right arm, a little yawn escaping her.
"Your cereal's downstairs so get dressed quickly!" Kale ordered them and marched out of the room.
"She just has to act like a drill sergeant, every single day." Brian grumbled.
"I think its fun." Emma said sweetly as she set the bunny down on the bed to get at the drawers underneath.
Emma chose a little flower sun dress with white leggings. Her long blonde hair was held back out of her face with a red headband. Now wide awake, she skipped her way out of the room, leaving Armadillo on the bed. (She didn't take him downstairs with her, she was a big girl now!) Brian, who'd chosen a more simple jeans and a Star Wars T-shirt, followed at a more reserved pace. Emma got a bowl out from one of the cabinets and chose her cereal (her favorite, Honey Bunches, was indeed out on the counter) and poured it into the bowl. The milk was in the fridge. Seeing that the skim was running on empty, she blamed Brian for that honestly, she chose the half empty galleon of 2% and happily filled her bowl with it.
"Careful you don't spill it." Brian said and Emma stuck her tongue out at him, setting the milk down on the counter for him to use. "Where's the skim?" He asked.
"Empty because somebody drank it all." She replied. It was his turn to stick his tongue out at her. Unfortunately, Kale walked in then.
"Brian, put that back in your mouth where it belongs!" She ordered.
"Yes 'em." He muttered.
"Now if you two can get through breakfast without fighting, I might be inclined to take you two into town later today." She said.
"Really?" Brian grinned excitedly and while shy Emma didn't say anything, her eyes lit up.
"Yes but only if you two get your chores done so eat your breakfast quickly and get to it!" She ordered.
Both kids were quick to obey her order. As Emma sat down, she happened to glance at the clock. It was a big grandfather that'd been in the family for generations and was currently hanging from the wall at their grandmother's request. The old lady could be quite scary sometimes and had convinced her son, their father, to display it. The 6 year old found it hard to believe that her father was gone. She was too young to understand death, had been fortunate to never see it before. That would all change. The time on the clock read 08:05.
...
Jessie was a heffer. One of the oldest in the herd. Her wisdom and experience in many matters made her a prize for the lead bull, if their was one. But the bull was always kept separate except when it was time to breed. The humans were very strict about this and it was beyond Jessie's mental capacity to understand why. She didn't much care for what they did sometimes, she had a good life. Her ears became pricked as a foreign noise was picked up. A predator? Unlikely. It didn't sound like anything she should run away from. Her instincts had nothing to say on the matter. The noise intensified and it almost sounded like that insufferable high pitched squealing that humans would sometimes do when they pressed their lips together. But this, this was much much louder. And if it was growing louder, then it must be coming closer. "Move now fool!" Her instincts said and she did, leaping to the side and charging up the hill. Behind her, a loud crash and the herd panicked, racing to the far end of the field. Jessie slowed her pace and dared a look back. There was a large hole in the ground, right where she had been standing moments before. Dirt splayed out mainly in one direction towards her covering much of the fertile grass. Most animals would leave well enough alone but Jessie had always been the curious one. It was that same curiosity that allowed her to learn much about her world and share that wisdom with the others. So she approached the hole, peering down over the edge. And something stared back at her. None of Jessie's instincts could tell her what this creature was. It was covered in the red dirt that had been pushed out upon the impact. It was lying on mostly its left side, wedged in the small hole that now trapped it. The strong smell of blood filled Jessie's nostrils. There was something familiar about that scent but it was off, as though it'd been diluted with something else. Uncertain if this newcomer was a threat to the herd or not, Jessie backed off a step. Then it groaned. Not a complaint or a cry at the stiffness in its joints but a sheer agonizing groan. A groan that begged for help. Jessie was uncertain. She didn't possess the ability to heal injuries. If she got a cut the humans would care for it with their interesting tools of theirs. Yes, that was it. Get the humans! They could help! The creature looked up at her and some sense of recognition flooded those eyes. Eyes as red as Jessie's coat. She wasn't sure if the creature could understand her but Jessie offered a soothing moo to it. She raced off, ordering the herd to make as much noise as they could. Stomp around, ram the fence, anything to get ranchers to come out of their house and help.