For once, I let myself take it slow today. No fixing fences, no scouting land—just me, a fishing pole, and the quiet stretch of the ranch’s pond. Been too long since I sat out here, listening to the wind ripple across the water, the occasional splash breaking the silence.

Didn’t catch much—not that I cared. It was more about the stillness, the kind you don’t get when you’re always working. The sky was wide and clear, the kind of blue that makes you feel small in a good way. Even the cattle seemed to take the day easy, grazing lazily along the banks.

I thought about the ranch, about the future, about dragons. How the world felt too big one day and too small the next. But for now, none of that mattered. Just the tug of a line, the smell of the water, and a rare, peaceful morning. I needed this.

For once, I let myself take it slow today. No fixing fences, no scouting land—just me, a fishing pole, and the quiet stretch of the ranch’s pond. Been too long since I sat out here, listening to the wind ripple across the water, the occasional splash breaking the silence.

Didn’t catch much—not that I cared. It was more about the stillness, the kind you don’t get when you’re always working. The sky was wide and clear, the kind of blue that makes you feel small in a good way. Even the cattle seemed to take the day easy, grazing lazily along the banks.

I thought about the ranch, about the future, about dragons. How the world felt too big one day and too small the next. But for now, none of that mattered. Just the tug of a line, the smell of the water, and a rare, peaceful morning. I needed this.

I knew the moment it happened.

The crow landed near me, watching, waiting. I didn’t need to guess what it wanted—I felt it. Hunger. Curiosity. A silent question hanging between us. What are you?

I focused, reached back—not with words, but with intent. The answer came easy. Cain. And you?

The bird didn’t give a name, not like we do. Just an impression. Sky. Hunger. Sharp things. It wasn’t speech, not exactly, but it made sense.

The more I tested it, the clearer it became. A stray dog sniffed at my boot, its thoughts simple—pack, food, safety. I sent a thought back. Not a threat. It understood. Moved on.

It’s not just hearing them. It’s knowing them, feeling what they feel. A connection, raw and real.

This isn’t some curse or accident. It’s mine. A gift, one I can sharpen like a blade.

And I intend to use it.