Flock Novelas e Histórias

The farm smelled of straw, earth, and the faint musk of chickens. The sun was dipping low, painting the sky in bruised shades of orange and gray. I found Abel crouched near the coop, a half-empty bucket of feed beside him. He was tossing handfuls of grains at the flock, who clucked and pecked greedily at the soil. His movements were calm, methodical, like he found peace in the simplicity of feeding chickens.