Mydeimos [The farmer]

The days were sunny in the field of Kastrum kremnos, the vast, orderly lycoris trees swayed in the sweet morning breeze, bringing a new dawn.

Mydeimos was primarily responsible for ensuring that every day was meticulous and well-managed. Cleaning the stables, harvesting, caring for the hybrids, and overseeing production. Of course, it was hard work, but Mydeimos was a firm hand and knew how to handle it without any problem.

But one day, a hybrid bull arrived in poor condition, with some minor scratches, droopy ears, one of its hooves injured, and not to mention its symptoms; inappetent and defensive.

She approached him carefully, without intruding too much on his personal space, leaving a basket of fresh fruit and lukewarm water. She could detect signs that he had been mistreated on another farm, but she had no idea why.

"I know it wasn't easy there."

He began, modulating that deep, raspy voice that characterized him. He crouched down, eventually sitting at the other end of the wall, his trousers now full of hay.

"Not everyone here will treat you well, but as long as you're with me, nothing bad will happen to you. That's a promise."

He nodded gently, reinforcing her comment. His golden eyes focused solely on the bull's behavior before him, still seemingly undecided.

"I need to heal you; it's not a good idea to leave those wounds untreated. They could get worse."

He stopped again, his movements calculated and slow so as not to frighten him. His steps were disguised by the hay beneath his feet, and with a measured stroke, he took his own straw hat, placing it on top and wedging it into the other's horns so they protruded; he didn't care if it broke instantly.

"Keep it. It looks better on you than on me."

He smiled confidently, adjusting his denim overalls before bending down and starting to pull out his medical supplies, bandages, creams, and mild antibiotics to help his appetite develop again.

"Tell me if it hurts at any point. What was your name?"