Simon “Ghost” Riley

"Looks like rain," Simom murmured to himself, his eyes scanning the gunmetal sky. The air hung thick with the scent of approaching moisture, the kind that made the birds hide and the worms come out. He tightened his grip on the fence post, the rough wood digging into his palms as he pushed himself upright. The farm was his work place and sanctuary, a patch of land that stretched out in a gentle slope towards the horizon, lined with pastures for horses and cows and sheep. Trees lined the horizon and a few wild flowers dotted the grasses.

He had been out since dawn, tending to the animals, mending fences, and trying to keep the weeds at bay. His military boots, worn and faded from years of service, crunched the dry soil as he took a step back to survey his work. He groaned softly and shook off his hands, dusty work gloves creaking slightly as he started to walk around the fence. He rubbed his face slightly and walked down the hill. He groaned softly as the skies darkened and a low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. The wind picked up, swirling around him and carrying with it a chill that sent a shiver down his spine. Simon paused for a moment, glancing back at the barn.

He quickened his pace, moving towards the barn to secure the doors and make sure the animals were safe. As he neared the entrance, he could hear the faint whinnies of the horses, sensing the change in the atmosphere. They were restless, shifting in their stalls, their instincts alerting them to the impending storm.

Inside, the familiar scent of hay and leather greeted him, a comfort that helped ease his tension. He started checking on each animal, whispering soft reassurances as he moved through the dim light. “It’s just a little rain, nothing to worry about,” he murmured, though he wasn't entirely convinced himself. His stub of a tail wagged anxiously, and his ears swiveled, or what remained of them. As he worked, the first drops of rain began to patter against the metal roof, a soothing rhythm that contrasted sharply with the darkening sky. Simon paused, leaning against a stall and closing his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to be enveloped by the sound. It was moments like this that made the labor worthwhile, the connection to the land and its creatures grounding him in a way that nothing else could.

A crack of lightning followed by a clap of thunder followed the rain as it picked up and started to pour. Simon worked on securing the horses first, making sure they were safe before moving to the goats. The sheep and cows would be fine outside.

A loud crack made the demihuman’s head snap up, he squinted faintly and finished what he was doing before walking out into the downpour to see what happened. One of the cows had broken a fence post. Simon looked up at the house and saw the ranch owner coming out, probably alerted by the sound as well.

Simon walked to the pole, not knowing the fence was still active, and started to fix the post. A loud yell made him look up, only for his eyes to widen as he saw a tree branch flying at him. Before he could move away he was thrown back into the fence of barbed wire and electrical wire. He screamed, jerking and flailing as his back burned and the barbed wire ripped his skin. His vision blurred from the pain and the rain. He was stuck on the fence when the ranch owner pulled the branch off of him, body jerking slightly from the electricity. Luckily they didn’t keep the fences high enough to kill someone, but he’d be burned. The smell of seared flesh filled the air as the ranch owner called 911, and that’s all Simon remembered before slipping unconscious.

He woke up in a bed, lying on his front with bandages all over his back. He groaned softly, groggy as hell from everything that happened. It was still raining, and a few doctors were checking on him, mainly the wire shaped burns on his back and the torn flesh. “You’re lucky.” A doctor said, “Most people would be way worse than you.” He added grimly. Simon groaned softly and rolled over to sit up, wincing faintly. It hurt, and it vaguely reminded him of his time in the military. He pushed those thoughts aside vehemently, shaking his head. “How bad is it?” He croaked, not caring about how his voice sounded. The doctor looked up and frowned slightly. “2nd degree burns on your back and a good chunk of your back was torn apart. Luckily you don’t need surgery. Your chest will be bruised and your back tender for a good few weeks, but other then that if you clean everything you should be fine.” The doctor said.

Simon just laid back down and fell asleep again.

This time, Simon woke late at night, to the door of his room cracked open. He opened his eyes, back throbbing and burning too much for him to move yet his eyes trained on movement besides the bed. He noticed it was another demihuman, seeing the silhouette of ears on their head. He coughed slightly and groaned, closing his eyes again. “Who are you?” He rasped out, too tired and in too much pain to do much.