❝ it is sometimes an
appropriate response to
reality to go insane ❞
──⭒─⭑─⭒──
In which an innocent girl finds herself
trapped in an arena with monsters and
her only hope is to claw her way out.
──...
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ℑt was rare for me to get Cato to the farm, not so rare that it never happened but rare enough for it always to be a pleasant surprise for my mother. He was always worried that he would disappoint my father, having not grown up with animals so having to learn from scratch. I tried to tell him that my father liked him, but he didn't believe it. It was amusing, on the night of the District 11 tribute to our win, my father had patted him on the back and squeezed his shoulder, and Cato had frozen, watching the man cautiously as if he was going to tell him off for proposing to me without his permission.
My mother had merely laughed from where she was stood next to me, her hand stroking my hair.
"Cas, Mick." Cato calls for the two herding dogs, who are back with us once more. They're jumping around, trying to herd us towards the farm which I still find funny. When we reach the gate, I open it, pulling the rest of my overalls on as we head for the parlour, talking quietly. Cato isn't much help with milking, doing better with herding the cattle and moving them between areas so I leave him to do that and the heavy lifting of the milk pails.
"Morning!" I call, finding my mother further up the parlour. She waves, grinning as she looks up.
"Morning. Wasn't sure you'd get here on time." I laugh, reaching her side to kiss her cheek and pat the cow's flank. "Cato."
"Morning." Cato smiles at her, both dogs now sitting by his feet and watching him with adoring eyes. I know that he sneaks both of them food, and let's them sleep on the couch, which is why they adore him so much, but I find it amusing.
"We've already got about twenty cows for you to move." My mother smiles at him as Cato nods, calling both dogs as he disappears. "Is he alright? He looks a bit out of it."
"Bad night last night, for both of us." I reply, shaking my head. "The victory tour took a toll and we had to push a lot of memories down. They all came up last night."
"I'm sorry, Bunny. Anything I can do?"
"If you're offering, some of that porridge that I love?"
"I'll see what I can do." We get to work, moving the cattle through the parlour. Machinery was whirring further away, my father and one of our farmhands having to move hay bales back and forth, ready for the colder winter months that were yet to come. We don't take notice of them. Cato comes back and forth, moving milk pails and taking the cows out. They're moving up to one of the top barns, a little further away from the farm, due to it being warmer and more comfortable for the winter months. There's a winter milking parlour up there, connected to the barn, so this will be the last time that we're down here.
