I woke like I did every morning: with one eye half open and the other valiantly fighting to stay down and convince me it was still night-time. Unfortunately for the brave soldiers’ efforts I was greeted by bright sunshine playing across my face, the distant singing birds, and the fresh lowland wind, carrying teasing scents to me: hints of flowers from my windowsill, and cow droppings from my job. I pressed my shoulders back against the bed, using my elbows to prop myself up and looked blearily out the window. With one limp hand I rubbed at my eyes, clearing the crust and forcing them to open, blinking repeatedly before looking out at the sight of the farmfield.

The coos were out already, I noted with resignation. The old barn door, a veteran of more battles than I could imagine, was simply too little to stop them from fetching their morning breakfast. The bell on Bonni rang quietly as she leaned down to munch, and I watched the sight quietly. The sun had barely poked over the horizon, marking it as morning, early morning. Its rays speared through the trees and lit up the hills, and a single word came to mind at the sight.

“Damn.” The word came out half a curse, half a yawn that I covered with my hand as I swung my legs over the bed. They hit the cold wooden floor below, and I took a moment to let the shock of the temperature change to aid in my awakening a moment before standing up fully.

The warm blanket drifted off my shoulders, calling me like a siren back into its embrace, but I ignored it and shuffled out of the bedroom. My feet took me past the pail of water that serves as my bath but I ignored it, continuing onwards towards the front of the small house. It was the first day of planting, and there was no point in trying to clean up right before going elbow deep in dirt, plant, and fertiliser.

I grabbed the clothing hanging from the doorframe, throwing it on as I closed the door behind me and continued. One awkward hop to another, changing as I moved.

The sound of my feet echoed down the narrow hallway, passing by the other empty bedroom and the small closet past it to enter the main room. A small window next to the door was the only thing allowing light into this room, illuminating little more than the dresser below it and the fireplace. The hay-strewn floor crunched underfoot, throwing dust to play in the light cast in the window, which I watched for a few moments before taking a seat at the table. The only food present on it, and in the house for that matter, was a small plate of apples. The meat ran out yesterday, along with the produce from the spring garden. I needed to head into the village at some point to get more… but an apple was enough to start.

I glanced at the empty pantry as I ate, the crunchy apple seeming to almost echo in the silent room... I sigh again, take another bite, and walk out the door. The old wooden door put up a fight, resisting me like my barn should have resisted my coos, but an application of the shoulder was enough to finally free me.

The transition between the cool interior of the house to the warm August is enough to wake me the rest of the way up, and I lean back against the wall as I look over the fields. Past the old storehouse lies the first of three fields, freshly tilled yesterday and waiting for this year's lot of turnip seeds… hopefully seeds that are more successful than last years. My eyes flit from the tilled soil to the buds of green on the far side, the potatoes I planted last month took well, it’s a crop I know god given little about, but I’ve heard good things at least.

I stepped forward, idly tossing the core of the apple onto the ground as I made my way around the farmhouse and towards the barn. My shoes clicked against the old cobbled stone, the surface cracked from decades of trodding. “Morning Bonni!” I called out, running my hand along the stone fence that surrounds the field as I went.

The coos ear twitched, and she slowly raised her head towards the sound of my voice before she returned to grazing. “Oooh,” I say in disappointment. “That’s not a proper mornin’ greet is it?”

Dylan mooed in response, his tail flicking behind him as he ate his grass. “Oh see, Dylan gets it. You could learn proper manners from him, Bonni.”

Another moo was my only response, this time from William. I grinned and hopped the fence, walking amongst the cops as I made my way towards the barn.

My smile dropped as I assessed the damage: the wooden door was broken off its hinges. The thing was old and hurt to start with, but it seems the coos managed to bump it enough that it failed completely. A sigh escaped my lips as I ran my hand along the wood, I’d need to prop it up and get it back onto its hinges, lest a whipper drake or the like get into the barn during the night. The little bastards have been trying at that, if the long series of scratches on the wood are anything to go by. No fox or wolf left long singular gouges in wood like that, so one of the forest wyverns was probably getting ideas after my cattle.

I looked out to the west forest, and beyond it the city, where more than a few whipper drakes were let loose in the countryside once they got too large to keep around the home. That also meant they went after the local cattle, which was unfortunate since the local polis weren’t going to go chasing after them and I just didn’t have anywhere near the money to hire a wyvern catcher. I looked between the forest and the scratches on the barn, then to the interior of the barn itself. There was a time when the local farmers could pool their money to deal with such a thing.

But I was the only one who didn’t move into the city for work.

It would be another season before I could possibly pay to fix the barn entirely up, if the farm was even around that long. Two bad harvests in a row, on top of more industrial farms easily out-producing me, meant times that were already tough had devolved to the point of complete unsustainability.

But there were seeds to plant. With another sigh I walked along the barn to hoist the large ditty bag of seeds onto my shoulder. It took a bit of adjusting, but soon I could stand up straight under the load, and took it back outside. It was a quick walk from the cowpen to the first of the fields, and with careful adjustment so that the ditty bag rested underneath my arm I started to sow the seeds into the tilled soil. It was careful, monotonous work, yet it was something I couldn’t help but always enjoy: in due time, with patience and care, I would have made something big from very little. It fascinated me when I saw my father doing it as a child, and it continued to fascinate me as I started the work myself at age six. At the age of twenty it had never lost the simple magic it possessed, and there was pride in doing what my ancestors had been doing for millenia. Though the thought that I may be the last put a bitter taste in my mou-

My musings were interrupted by a roar, and I looked up from my work to see a shadow moving across the sky. A wyvern, probably twice the size of my house, was flying off towards the city. Ropes or chains attached to the joints of its wings were pulled taut, and an airship trailed behind it on those chains. One of those newer designs I’d heard about at the market: a mix of wood and some metal that was kept from falling completely via balloons. I had no idea how it worked, but it was nothing less than a fascinating sight.

“Oh! That’s the new model!” a familiar child’s voice ripped me from my appreciation, and I looked back past the cow paddock to see little Charlie leaning over my fence and pointing up towards the sky.

His hands were cupped around his right eye like a spyglass, his mouth open as he tried to make out every detail of the airship. “Issit now?” I called out. “New enough that it keeps ya from yer classes Charlie?”

Charlie’s hands dropped, and the boy gave me a pout. “Oh get off it Arthur, I’m heading there now aren’t I?”

“Nah, yer hanging ‘round my paddock now.” I replied. “there’ll be plenty of talk of airships in the village ah’m sure. ‘Less ya want to help me with seedin’ again?”

Charlie ran off at that, his shoes kicking up dust as he sprinted down the rough road with his jacket catching the wind behind him. I smiled at the sight, watching him until he went out of sight before returning to my seeding.

It took me a good four hours to finish half the fields, the farm isn’t particularly large, certainly nowhere near as large as the new owners up north. But father’s farm was by far the largest in the county, and such a plot of land takes considerable time to seed on one's own… and far longer to plow for that matter.

The roaring never stopped either, the wyvern circled the city for a good long while before landing, it has done three passes since. What was once a rather interesting sight has become a tad more annoying cause the damn thing kept spooking the coos. I placed my hand above my eyes to shade them as I watched it go in for another landing, the coos watching it warily… but not warily enough to stop eating as it started to make its descent. I had only been near a Wyvern once, a full sized one anyway, however many years back when dad took me to a fair out in Glasgow. Damn thing was bigger than the farmhouse and was being used to keep a factory alight, dad always told me about how honorable they were. Frankly I didn’t know where he’d learn that, but still, something had to be magical about flying up that high.

Course, like every other kid in England I wanted to own one when I was younger, but the family could barely afford the cattle by that point, let alone a tame wyvern. My arguments about how easily it could pull the plough were ignored, and frankly now seeing the size of the field as an adult I’d agree with my father faster than I’d take my own side.

I tossed the remains of the apple I was eating over the fence and made my way over to the coos, Bonni’s head turning up to look at me as I did so. Her head tilted slightly as I approached, her black eyes curious through the mop of long brown hair the breed was known for. “How ya doin’ today Bonni? Dylan been given’ ya any troubles?”

Bonni stared at me for a moment before lowering her head to eat more grass. “Well good ta’ hear it.” I said glibly, then moved past her towards the other field.

“You talking to the coos again Arthur?” Mary’s voice called out. And I turned my head to look at the woman who stopped to lean across my fence near where Charlie did earlier. She was lovely as always, her auburn hair done up enough that it was maintained but loose enough that errant strands hung down in curls over her forehead, and she was wearing that brown dress I loved seeing her in.

Not that I was particularly happy to see her. “Ah am,” I replied, “da’ always spoke of havin’ an intelligent conversation, and unless ah’m headin’ out to the creek to speak to my reflection there’s hardly none of that ‘round.”

Mary snorted then hopped the fence, her dress barely clearing the stone as she did so. “Oh come now Arthur, ya can’t still be mad can ya? Ya know I don’t get any say in it.”

I walked past her towards the field, the diddy bag bouncing at my side as I unlocked the fence and started spreading the seeds once more.

“Arthur!” Mary shouted indignantly. “Ya know I’ll write!

I paused in tossing the seeds, slowly looking up towards the girl… woman. “Like George does? Or Angus? Mabel? Or any of the others who went to the city for work? When was the last time ya heard from any of them?”

A distant crack of thunder sounded out, and I turned my head to see storm clouds forming to the south, rain would make the day easier, even if it made Mary’s words have the wrath of god behind them when she spoke again.

“Ya can’t stay on the farm Arthur, you have what, another season in you before you’ll have to sell?” Mary called for me from the otherside of the fence.

I didnt look back at her as I spoke. “Aye, maybe a bit longer if ah get a good harvest this year.” I replied quietly, “less I get a good amount of money in the farm is as doomed as the rest ‘round here.”

“I know ya said you’d take care of it, but do ya got to be so stubborn about it? When was the last time ya even had a full meal Arthur?” Mary asked, worry in her tone.

I ignored the rumbling in my stomach at her mention of food, but I did finally turn back to look her in the eyes as I spoke. “Ah have enough to keep me alive Mary, ah’ll have more if the potatoes come through. Ah hope… the city is nice to ya.”

She was just one in a long line of people packing up after centuries of working the land to find ‘easy employment’ in the cities, in a way you couldn’t blame them. Farming was being overtaken by the landlords with all the new laws. But I couldn’t just leave what my father and mother left me.

“Goodbye Arthur.” Mary said simply, staring at me a moment before walking down the path.

“Goodbye Mary,” I replied quietly, then turned back to start tossing the seed again.

By the time I finished it was already well into the evening, the clouds I saw at noon having drifted and come alive around four in the evening to wet the fields and save me from having to do that extra job. It did give me the job of moving the coos into the barn early however, despite how hungry they can get no coos in their right mind are going to sit out and eat in a thunderstorm. Still, the barn was locked, and I was sitting down next to the table, watching the rain and thunder come down outside the window.

It was a long day, it was a painful day, and I’ll be hurting yet more in the morning, but for now at least the hardest part is over. Still, my mind couldn’t help but think about what Mary was saying before she left, I’m stubborn yes, but it’s wrong for someone to just up and leave their home behind like that.

Not that I can say my own stubbornness is much better, I was just holding on as long as possible until I had to pack up and move myself. But at least I was putting in the effort, still, my eyes glanced down to the meager produce from my vegetable garden and I dropped a piece of the snipe I was eating onto the table. It wasn’t much, but it was the food I had to eat until I could turn a harvest… or figure out something in town for that matter.

I sighed, then reached for another piece before the world came crashing down around me. A deafening thunderous roar pierced the air, and for a moment that’s what I thought it was, a close lightning strike shaking the earth and piercing my ears… but it was moving, and it was followed by a loud crash of shattering wood and a god almighty roar towards the direction of the barn. I jumped up, knocking the chair over as I sprinted to the window.

The barn was on fire! Halfway collapsed, with the coos running out of the building mooing wildly. The grass was aflame, as was the vast majority of the structure, new bursts of flame erupting from it as something struggled within it. Then, I saw it, a long black beast with grey curling horns. It was tangled in the fishing netting I kept in the loft along with collapsed timber, a wyvern struggling trying to pull itself free and spewing fire all over in its panic.

This was not the wyvern of my youth, this was smaller, sleeker, and far angrier and more panicked.

I leapt through the window and sprinted towards the barn.