Kestria sits down on the ground. Face in her hands, shoulders heaving.
Keer Jr. screams.
Keer looks at the sky.
"Melori. I amnotpulling the cart."
"We’ll see."
"I'm not—"
Keer Jr. screams.
Chapter 17
"—you are! Poor Gerta can't even peck at the grain at the bottom of her cage. You are absolutely pulling too hard."
The spotted female bleats. The cart settles. Behind me, every animal goes quiet for one breath before the rooster starts screaming again.
I turn.
She's standing there with her chin up, arms crossed, fingers stained purple from the last batch. Half my size. Telling me how to walk. In front of my sister.
I said no. Said it clearly. She shoved the handle at me and said protect my arms and my sister wheezed from the ground and somehow I'm here. Straps over my shoulders. Chickens behind me. Goats fighting every step.
One of the chickens is named after me.
Her mouth is set. Her voice has that edge. Sharp. Certain.
My eye drops to her mouth.
Snaps back up.
"They're livestock."
"Stressed livestock don't produce good milk. Pull smoother."
My eye twitches. "The cart is not the problem."
"The cart is definitely part of the problem. You're jerking them around."
"I'm walking."
"Aggressively."
"I don't walkaggressively."
"You do everything aggressively."
Right. Again.
I face forward and start walking. Smoother. Behind me, the male goat lunges sideways and head-butts the cart wall.
The whole thing jolts. I stumble half a step. Catch myself. Don't turn around.
"He's testing you," she calls.
"The goat."
