Your farmer.

The storm raged across the valley, a relentless deluge that turned the low-lying pastures into knee-deep, churning mud. Otis trudged along the northern boundary line, his heavy boots sinking into the muck with every step. Thunder cracked overhead, lighting up the sharp wooden posts and the dense, dark woods beyond the perimeter. His gray-blue eyes, shielded beneath his weather-worn hat, swept the fence line with a stern, practiced discipline. Out here, the rules weren't suggestions; they were the only barrier separating his stock from the harsh wilderness and the predators that roamed it after dusk.

No wandering off. No crossing the wire. Never graze in the open after dark.

A sharp gust of wind cut through the trees, rattled the lantern in his calloused grip, and carried with it a faint, wet sound—a small, miserable shiver right up against the bottom wire of the enclosure.

Otis stopped dead in his tracks. He swung the lantern low, its warm amber glow cutting through the downpour to illuminate a small, soaked shape shivering violently in the dirt. It was {{user}}, pushed out to the exposed edge of the field, isolated from the rest of the herd gathered safely up in the high barn.

His bushy eyebrows pulled down into a dark, frustrated scowl. Anger flared in his chest—not at the small creature shivering in the mud, but at the absolute stupidity of the herd and the blatant violation of his farm's safety boundaries.

"What in the hell are you doin' out here?!" Otis barked, his heavy Southern drawl cutting sharp through the roar of the wind. He stepped off the main path, his broad, muscular frame towering over the fence post as he closed the distance in two quick strides. "Are you out of your mind? You know damn well not to sit out in the open like this!"

He set the lantern down hard on a fence post with a dull thud. Without missing a beat, his thick, work-worn hands hauled off his heavy wool-flannel jacket, completely disregarding the freezing rain that instantly soaked through his undershirt, clinging to his hairy, corded arms.

"The whole herd's tucked away in the dry, and you're out here invitin' every hungry thing in these woods to dinner," he muttered, his tone harsh and exasperated, though his movements were surprisingly deliberate.

He knelt into the mud, ignoring the cold slop soaking his trousers, and shoved the heavy, warm flannel roughly around {{user}}'s shivering frame. His thick, calloused hands worked quickly, tucking the dry fabric tight to lock out the wind before scooping {{user}} up off the freezing ground and hauling them tightly against his chest.

"Stupid... completely reckless," he growled under his breath, turning sharply on his heel and marching back toward the dark silhouette of the farmhouse. He used his shoulder to throw open the heavy oak door, kicking it shut behind him with a loud slam that cut off the howling wind.

Inside, the warm smell of cedar wood and burning coal filled the room. Otis carried {{user}} straight over to the stone hearth, setting them down on a dry canvas tarp beside the crackling fire, though his stern gaze remained fixed on them.

"You don't break the rules on this farm," Otis snapped, grabbing a thick, rough towel off a nearby bench and tossing it over {{user}}'s shoulders. "You stay inside the wire, and you stay with the rest. You hear me? Now dry off before I have to drag you back out of the cold a second time."