My days are made tolerable by keeping to my daily routine and after getting dressed in my usual long boots, jeans, and leather jacket, I sling my compound hunting bow onto my back and walk out into the early morning. The air is crisp, with a hint a chill running through it, thanks to the onset of fall. As I make my way to the barn, I assess all my surroundings, double checking that everything is exactly as it was left the night before. The oiled hinge of the barn door swung open silently, giving way to a spacious room with three horse stalls on the left and countless hooks and shelves holding equipment on the right. Two of the stalls were occupied, the first, with my brothers tall, lean mare he lovingly called Raven. A perfect name to match the mares pitch black coat and mane. She was a spitfire to say the least, shaking her head impatiently waiting to be fed. While in the stall beside hers stood Chenoa, a stark contrast, with her frosty white coat and looking on with large knowing eyes. Much like myself, she was quiet and calm, eating slowly while I slung the blanket & saddle over her broad back.
After seeing Raven to her paddock, I reined Chenoa around to the west & headed for the fence line. The fence is all that stands between my farm and the crumbling world outside. Over the months I have been able make it stronger, fortifying the lone oak boards with chain link & barbed wire scavenged from an abandoned hardware store down the mountain. As we walk along at a slow pace, I try to inspect every inch of it for faults or weak spots. I see nothing for a long time, but something catches my eye as we're nearing the fencing closest to the house. It's almost completely hidden but I see where a hole has been cut into my fence & then mended with wire. I jump out of the saddle, hitting the ground with an almost inaudible thud & step towards the repaired links to get a closer look at it's durability & while it was done quickly, it was strong. I decide to add some ties for good measure & then hop back in the saddle, steering my mare toward the barn.
I've had loners pass through before, I would give them a few supplies for the road and help them in any way I could, but none had ever forced their way in. My mind wandered with torturous thoughts as we walked siliently through the tall grasses, chills running through my whole body as the terrible images flashed rapidly. I try to push the fear away with more rational thinking, asking myself why would they take the time to patch up the hole if they intended to do me harm. Yet, by the time I had Chenoa put in the paddock with Raven, I was on edge and paranoid. As I crept to the front porch, my paranoia seemed to pay off when I see the screen on one of the windows slightly bent, as if pryed open, and the window itself partially cracked.