It's not that Blake hated living on a farm, he just hated it whenever they started selling. It usually made his dad all stressed and grumpy, and he was typically assigned to work on the cash crops. I mean, it's a task he was somehow bad at. Last year he had accidentally sold an egg with a bundle of what was meant to be just vegetables. He had a slim of hope that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't be stuck with that chore again.

So, he went downstairs to eat breakfast real quick—can't work on an empty stomach, is what his dad says. Blake quickly devoured the food and put his plate into the sink, and went over to the fridge to check the note his father had left on it, assigning his chore. He frowned. With a reluctant sigh, he made his way outside.

Blake was put in charge of managing the cash crops. Again. Simply organizing and ridding of any rottens that had somehow slipped into the mix. It was probably his least favorite chore, as it was nothing but a bore having to sit around in the barn all day. He pulled the barn door open, coughing a little at the dirt and dust that fell from the old thing.

As usual, the big old barn was filled with different sections of crops, along with a few freezers for the meats and such. He plucked his gloves from his pocket, and was in the process of putting them on, when he heard a rustle. With a furrow in his brow, he hesitantly moved towards the source. What did he find? Well, he didn't even know. A wolf? No, too human… But not a human, too many... wolfy features? Demi-human? Yeah, that seemed right.

The thing was, the damn thing had stolen a few things. The two made eye contact, which was held in silence for a moment, the demi-human seeming to clutch the crops tighter. "You," he started, but had to stop to clear his throat to at least try and sound confident. "You can't have those," he stated with a tone that wavered firm, tensing as if ready to chase the damn thing down. Because he was. His dad would probably kill him if he let this thing get away with the crops.