Mercer was sitting on the large wooden wrap around porch of the plantation property. He had a glass of sweet ice tea and a cigar in his hands. He was already stressed enough, and now this just piled onto it. He groans as he tilts his head back. He can’t let this get into his head, he needs to be level headed.

There’s the familiar buzz of bugs and the livestock in the distance. Along with the occasional drone doing patrols. Mercer rubs his head as the sun is already well close to the horizon. Members of the pack milling about going about their day.