Now

Riven

Sheep and goats and ponies.

Fuck that.

I can only imagine the chaos if our sweet little Anna had a whole menagerie to take care of. And yet the thought makes me smile to myself as we leap across the brook after her.

She’s so alive out here, our gypsy girl. Her wind-whipped hair flies wild and her cheeks are rosy pink. She’s nimble on the banks and quick over the fences, putting us to shame as she scrambles up and over in a flash.

She belongs out here. This land is more hers than mine, even though it’s my name on the deeds.

I make her wait for the praise, eyes like saucers as she watches me examine her new fence panels.

“Well?” she asks finally. “Are they good or what?”

I take a breath as though I’m about to deliver bad news, but Kennedy blows my ruse.

“He’s dicking about with you,” he says. “He’s impressed.”

“I’m impressed,” I admit. “You did great.”

My heart flutters like a fucking sap as her chest puffs up proud. “I told you,” she says. “It’s in my blood. It’s all in my blood.