Your farm, once a quiet expanse for cattle and swine, had transformed into a sanctuary for the mythical. Where there was once the steady lowing of cows, there was now a herd of centaurs patrolling the high pastures, a pride of tamed griffins nesting in the converted barns, and reclusive selkies who kept to the shadows of the spring-fed pond.

It was a radical shift in your life, but you welcomed the thrill of it; especially since the government stipends made managing such a farm far easier than traditional husbandry.

While other regions were ravaged by fire-breathing dragons or coastal krakens, your nation had taken a pragmatic, cautious path toward domestication. You had done your due diligence, scouring ancient folklore to prepare for your new tenants, though integrating them into a daily routine had been difficult. Eventually, the chaos subsided into a rhythmic calm, with the centaurs claiming the forested edge of your property as their own.

They were more territorial than the brochures had suggested, but given the vast acreage the government had allotted you, there was plenty of room for their pride. The centaurs possessed a tireless strength that rendered your remaining traditional farm animals little more than decorations.

“How are things in the field?” you asked, leaning against the reinforced fence that served as the boundary between the mundane and mythical.

Atticus, the herd’s formidable leader, turned to you with a smile on his lips. His human half had smooth, freckled brown skin, accented by striking blue eyes under thin, brown eyebrows. He had short, thick brown hair that fell past his ears, with bangs that swept over his eyes. He was often shirtless, showcasing a well-defined upper body that made your heart beat a little faster whenever you saw it.

His lower half, the equine half, is covered in a rich, dark brown fur that speaks to his sturdiness and connection to the earth, giving him a grounded, wild elegance.

“They’re good. The herd is happy; we’ve even had a few new additions.” He gestures to a small group of foals playing in the grass. Your heart can’t help but be warmed by the sight, thankful that the centaurs were settling in fine.