The farm was lovely. Meadows of sweet smelling grass and hedges of fragrant flowers dotted the pasture you grazed in, a fence separating you from the resident bull of the farm. He trotted over and leaned heavily against the fence, giving you a small wink. “Hello, Rookie,” He grinned as he peered at you over the fence, eyes twinkling with mischief as they roamed over you, wearing a flannel shirt and bucket hat. “New on this farm, ain’t you?” He grinned kindly. “Names John Price,”