Here with my second Hunters Chronicle Prompt. For this fic, the prompt was to utilize an unreliable narrator and tell the story of someone who was going through a seemingly ordinary day only to reveal at the end they were going through a murder spree or smth of that sort. I altered the prompt a bit, but did my best to try and keep with the unreliable narrator.
Easy to say I got wayyyy too attached to Bea, and the animals in this fic (the flaws of taking too many animal behaviour/nutrition/biology classes i suppose, altho i doubt my profs ever expected me to use my knowledge from their classes for this lol) but i think this turned out not too bad! Heads up, there is horror elements with some mention of death/blood, dismemberment and human organs (very briefly) and murder but i think with the prompt its all to be expected? None of it is super explicit, more just mentioned briefly in passing. Also, there is no animal death bc i'm too soft for that.
enjoy!
For Cain, his day starts off relatively the same. He wakes early to the distant caws of crows from the field, and even without rising from his bed and checking the window, he knows they are either perched on the recently painted white fences (a young lad, Charlie, had helped with repainting them two weeks ago. He had a knack for the arts, and while Cain would admit - having seen his paintings - this was far below his skillset, it had turned out much nicer than if just he had done the job. Shame the kid had done it the morning before his drive north to art school. Cain had hoped he might be able to get him to help repaint the deck - that awful stain on the back steps had been bugging him, if he were honest) or were picking through the scraps thrown onto the dirt to decompose. Knowing this signifies he'll probably have to till the patch of dirt again, Cain sighs, and gets to his feet. He doesn't mind the work, truthfully. If he had, he wouldn't have been a farmer. There are simpler, less labour-intensive jobs that exist that he could have chosen if he so very pleased, but the sigh was less to do with the work and more towards the idea of leaving the comfort of his bed.
It was the pull that came from the warmth of the bed, the soft pillow beneath one's head, the comforter that kept you bundled close, that acted as a siren's call against the creeping chill of fall in the air. Even with years of experience, Cain, much like a seasoned sailor, still often bowed to the nudge of the siren's sweet song sometimes. He is only human, after all.
So for a few precious moments he sits on the edge of the bed and listens to the crows. Then, before the idea of returning to bed enters his mind, he moves to the closet to change into something more suitable for work. The sun is only just rising as he makes his way to the kitchen, filling the kitchen with a soft warm glow.
"Mornin' Bea," he says the moment he feels a wet nose bump against his hand. Looking to his side, Cain gives her a smile and her tail immediately starts wagging.
He's not sure what dog she is, the shelter had called her a mutt, and just by looking at her, Cain can tell she's a big mixing pot of breeds - a bit Anatolian Shepherd, a bit Lab, maybe even a bit Cattle dog if you squint just right. Regardless of what she's mixed with, she's a good companion dog, nice and loyal, and Cain considers her family.
"Sleep well?" He continues, as he bends down to pick up her empty bowl. Bea gives him an excited bark, tail still wagging, and he hums, nodding.
"Yes, I know. Crows woke me too," Cain responds, as if she gave him a proper answer. "I'll get to them after the breakfast rounds."
As he pours kibble into the bowl, she sits patiently by his side, watching his actions as if to ensure she does not get scammed of a few pieces of kibble. When it seems to be taking too long, she nudges his thigh with her snout, causing Cain to chuckle. She is always dramatic when it comes to meals. He's had her for nearly three years now, but she will still sometimes act like if he doesn't feed her fast enough she'll starve. Colette, his late wife, had always found it endearing. She would usually crouch down to coo and kiss Bea's head, telling him oh Cain, look at our poor dear! Nearly skin and bones! as if Bea wouldn't then, an hour later, give them the same puppy dog eyes when they themselves were eating.
"Alright, alright," he tells her, moving to put the bowl down on the floor.
Already Bea is shoving her muzzle into it, and while she's busy scarfing down her breakfast, he refills her water bowl before he gets himself something to eat. A couple slices of toast with fresh raspberry jam from one of his neighbours, a cup of coffee with a dash of milk, and some fried eggs. Nothing fancy, just enough to tide him over until lunch, and he eats quickly, knowing today would be a busier day after yesterday. At some point, Bea comes to join him, sitting at his side and staring at his plate pitifully, begging for scraps. It's only when he tells her there's no bacon - twice - does she stop her mournful staring (Not without giving him a dramatic huff, however).
The empty plate and coffee cup are placed in the sink for the moment to be dealt with after the other animals have been fed, but before he can put them down, he frowns. The cutting board and knife from last night still sit in the sink, dirty, and it takes Cain a moment to remember why he didn't wash them with the rest of the dishes yesterday. Then, remembering he had left them to soak - liver was always messier than the other organs, but to toss it away after a hunting trip felt wasteful and while he himself didn't eat it, it did have some nutritional value - Cain glances over at Bea.
"Remind me to do the dishes when I get back," he tells the dog, who nudges his hand in return. He knows she's asking for pets, not promising that she'll remind him of such a task, but Cain can pretend.
Up next in the routine is feeding the pigs and sheep. For the pigs, Cain pulls out some fresh food from the large fridge he keeps in the mudroom - easier to separate his food from the veggies and scraps he feeds them - and with Bea at his heels, heads out to the barn.
By now the sun is higher in the sky, and he's far more awake than he was earlier. At the barn as he dumps the mixture of grain feed and scraps into the troughs for the pigs, Bea wanders off, knowing she won't be able to sneak any scraps for herself. The pigs are as hungry as she had been for her breakfast it seems, and they all move to the troughs to get their fill. While they eat, Cain inspect each animal individually, ensuring they are healthy and not showing any signs of sickness or injury. It's a dull and repetitive task, but early in the morning, and paired with a relatively small herd, he doesn't mind it. Once he's satisfied with his work, he opens the gate to give them access to their outdoor pen before leaving to check on the sheep.
It's a similar routine as before - feed, check them for sickness or injury, then let them out into the pasture for fresh air and grazing. Bea, for this, joins him, running out with the sheep into the field and he leaves her there with a smile before heading off to the garden and the crows. He knows when she gets tired, she'll either come join him for tilling and weeding, or he'll find her napping on the back deck of the small farm house.
From then until two he'll till the patch of soil the crows won't leave alone, priding himself on how the fertilizer has been helping greatly. At this rate, he'll be able to get a few more crops out of it before the temperature drops too much, and when that's dealt with, he has lunch outside on the desk with Bea, slipping her pieces of sandwich meat and the odd carrot or two. After lunch comes the dishes, cleaned and put away, and Cain spends the rest of the day doing odd tasks around the farm that need to be done, sometimes with the help of Bea, sometimes alone. The two will eat dinner on the deck as well, Cain with leftover lasagna from the other night, Bea with more dried kibble. As the sun sets, he'll spend some time reading over the paper from this morning before going to fed the animals once more and putting them back in the barn for the night, while Bea chews on a bone at his feet (he suspects she had wandered back to the barn while the pigs were out and nosed through the troughs to see if anything good was missed and had gotten lucky with the one bone Cain missed). Overall, like most of Cain's routine, the paper is nothing different. On the front page is the young face of a woman - Josie Sands. A highschool student with a bright future (at least, that's what the paper claimed), who was still reported missing. According to the paper, she hadn't returned home three days ago, and it was very unlike her, her mother had been quoted saying.
He felt some pity for the mother, but not beyond the initial thought of oh, how tragic. They still haven't found her. After all, despite what the paper said, they were a small enough town that people tended to know each other a bit better, and Josie was, well, not to speak ill of the dead all all, but she wasn't exactly the model student her mother preached her to be. Even living a bit out of the centre of the town, Cain had heard the rumours of her - always looking for trouble, running off to spend the nights with friends and not coming home until a few days later.
The whispers recently had been about this new boyfriend of hers, and while Cain didn't want to think the worst of the girl, others thought that she might've just run off to be with him and never bothered to tell her mother. Personally, Cain didn't know her well enough to agree with the whispers, as she had only visited his farm once or twice to help with his gardens when her mother had thought some good old-fashioned hard work might fix her wild streak.
(It hadn't, but Cain's gardens were looking better than ever since she had come by on her way out of town, so in his eyes it wasn't a complete loss.)
When it's time to turn in for the night, he gets Bea to herd in the sheep, and Cain himself gets the pigs back in, feeding both groups before closing up the barn for the night and heading off to bed, Bea at his heel.
The next morning is almost the same - minus the crows, of course.
Cain wakes, gets changed, and heads to the kitchen with Bea. He'll feed her and she'll beg for some of his own breakfast (and this time succeed in getting a piece of bacon) and then together they'll prepare to feed the other animals.
He'll open the large fridge, humming and hawing over what to throw in with the pigs' food today. There's still some of Charlie left over, mostly just a couple organs and such alongside some heads of lettuce that are beginning to wilt, and while it's not the freshest, it's better than letting it just sit in the fridge and go to waste. He puts the organs and veggies into a large bin to carry out, knowing the pigs won't be too picky. Together they then head down to the barn, Cain pausing momentarily only to shoot a glare at the dark stain on the porch. If he had known Kevin would be so messy in dying then he would've shown more restraint in his urge to kill Charlie. Unfortunately, all Cain can tell himself is that everyone makes mistakes, and now he'll have to paint it himself.
At the barn, the pigs eat their breakfast while he does his cursitory check on them, and much like yesterday, are granted access to their outdoor pen, as are the sheep after they're fed and inspected (the sheep are fed only grains, far more pickier he's found than the pigs are). A glance over at the garden as he heads back to the farm house shows him the crops are still as good as ever (all thanks to Josie, shame she never realized what a talent she had for helping plants grow, he thinks morbidly with a smile). He'll paint the deck today, Cain decides, and so he spends the rest of his morning clearing it off and sweeping it. After lunch he'll drive into town to get more paint to fix the stain, deciding this time on a darker colour to avoid another problem like this in the future, and maybe grab a few groceries while he's at it.
Later, when the deck is dry, he'll sit out on it for a late dinner with Bea at his side, chewing once more on the femur she found yesterday in the pig trough. He flip through the paper before putting the animals away - shaking his head at the face of Josie, who still is plastered on the front page, albeit a bit smaller than it had been a few days ago - and he'll leave the knife and cutting board to soak again, before getting ready for bed. It's a routine he knows by heart, but Cain's hardly minded.
thoughts? let me know in the comments below!
Also, Cain doesn't feed humans to his pigs all the time - he loves all his animals very dearly and makes sure they have a balanced diet to get all their nutrients and stay healthy. (and no, Bea doesn't get any bc ya girl is against raw fed diets and you can't tell me cain is gonna go and cook it). i'll have a second fic up today as well! double post baby!
-Twist
