1. Another Day Of The Sun.

As the plane touched down, I could feel the anticipation bubbling within me, ready to embark on the next phase of my recovery. Stepping onto solid ground, I inhaled the crisp air, tinged with the scent of adventure.

My mind was filled with visions of an incubator filled with eggs, a dream that had once belonged to me as a human. Now, with time on my side, I eagerly embraced the idea of raising birds on my own. I had spent countless hours on online forums, reading about people successfully raising a variety of species, from chickens to pheasants to peacocks. It was a world I wanted to be a part of.

But before I could dive into raising birds, there were a few experiments I wanted to conduct with more common species. Questions swirled in my mind: When is the best time to enjoy ducks as a meal? And if I were to hatch ducks, could I bring myself to slaughter and consume them, or would they become my beloved pets? Though these thoughts occupied my mind, they were not my primary focus.

Another passion that burned within me was the desire to grow potatoes from seed, explore new varieties, and even attempt to crossbreed them. And orchids—oh, the thought of cultivating these delicate flowers filled me with delight.

The ranch I now called home offered the perfect opportunity to transform a couple of rooms into a vibrant green space bursting with life. I imagined myself surrounded by lush foliage and fragrant blossoms, immersing myself in the art of floristry. While I had a solid understanding of botany, there was a part of me that yearned to learn from the skilled hands of a professional florist.

In my eagerness to embark on new ventures, I had already taken to the internet to purchase a few horses. I knew it may not have been the ideal method, but I sought reliable and calm companions and suitable saddles. A sigh escaped my lips as I contemplated the vast amount of knowledge I still had to gain.

Amidst my varied pursuits, I couldn't help but be consumed by thoughts of Damon. He had given everything to heal me, and I couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that there was more to him than met the eye. Deep down, a part of me wanted to believe in his extraordinary nature, and I resolved to keep that possibility in mind as I forged ahead.

That there is the passionfruit Damon, he's wonderful when you get on top of him, but also a fucking machine, the darling type, also falls under this side, and then there is the wet dog smelling Damon. The torturer and also the annoying creep.

I turned it over in my head for a while and knew I had to talk to Damon about this at some point. I knew my pretender side had found this, and that's what I trusted. Then I started remembering all the predictions and also what Wulfe said. He had said Damon was good, but then he wasn't. How did he know that?

I was ready for the challenges, learning all kinds of new things, including the fact that Damon could do terrible things to me for six weeks and then enjoy the outcome. No matter how much he has to switch off, it doesn't help. Or any other reason.

Now, I had a head full of memories, emotions, and feelings, and I didn't need to sleep. I didn't want to close my eyes lest I be in that dark shuttle, in one of the three that hurt and haunted.

I had been in terrible shape. Colin had told me straight out. Even though I told him that God himself said I could never die again, Colin didn't want to take any chances with my straps. He had also told me that Damon had given me his own life force and healing ability and that the fact that a vampire over a thousand years old would sacrifice so much for another is a testament to his feelings for me.

 I could have stayed in America, waited for Damon to recover, and then let him use his telepathy again to dispel or remove, but he was in awful shape, and I didn't want to sit and wait. Maybe one day, he would then do something about that awfulness in my head, but in the meantime, I wanted to live and try new things.

Mimosa was eager to take me to chase kangaroos because somehow Mimosa didn't want to be untethered all the time now, either. But we were one. We had a powerful bond, and although Mimosa was thankfully asleep for the whole six weeks, I had no doubt that she had found the information in my head that I was going through.

She had seen how traumatizing the whole fucking experience had been and how I was still broken. But I knew I would get stronger through it. My willpower will increase, my rage will increase, and my body will take more. Colin had said I was fine now; I'd got 50 more straps than I had originally, and that was thanks to Damon. 

I just felt so fucking unfair about fucking life again. When I was having a wonderful time with Damon. Yeah, we had been in the nest and everything, but this everyday life, or our wild fucking marathons. It was a long time ago. And there would be. Because I didn't think Damon would be so terribly eager to come on to me right away either if he once and for all sucked all the inflammation out of me, gave an energy boost straight from his heart, and sacrificed his own health for me.

He would take time to recover and get over it, just like I did. We both had recovery ahead of us, his physical and mine mental. This gave quite a blow to my ego. I wasn't so confident and invincible; maybe I would learn to be a bit more careful. I didn't want to be in that state anymore.

 I had gotten a new car again and drove it to the ranch for the first time by myself. It was another four-hour drive, but that didn't bother me. I got there, and for some reason, I remembered the rush.

I started cleaning the house because I wanted to get rid of the wet dog smell, although I didn't even smell it anywhere, but the memory of how greasy Damon's skin had been. How the smell stayed on the sheets, and I couldn't smell passionfruit at all. It's interesting, by the way, because I smell like strawberries even in fight clubs or tortured in the medical facility. Maybe he has a really different side to his normal passionfruit. 

But Damon is an ancient creature, and maybe that's partly to do with it. Or maybe the fact is that I'm the unique case. I'm always the different one. I'm not the same as everyone else, and why on earth would I even start assuming that others should do or act the same as me?

Besides, I am chaos. Chaos always has its own rules and ways of doing things. Chaos is not disorder; it is just surprise and unpredictability. So I have to remember some of these things, so I don't always have so much to think about. Let's take it one day at a time. I hadn't told Adam where I was going. I had told no one. 

I cleaned up and put the ranch in order. When I started going through the outside storage, I hired a cleaning service to clean the house. There was a good deal of strange equipment and machinery, and it was very good physiotherapy. I lifted and moved heavy equipment and then looked online to see what I had.

I had a working milking machine for about 25 cows—a huge juice mill. A threshing machine, some other machines for handling grain, and three tractors were all working, and I had driven every one of them. One even had a hoe attached, so I could dig with it if I wanted to. Then there was the shearing equipment in case I got sheep, but I had planned to get alpacas and llamas. They had lovely fleeces—also rabbits. I had just the right place for rabbits and hadn't thought about what breeds I would get.

It was actually wonderful therapy, having something to do all the time. You have to make plans and try new things. Mimosa volunteered when I tried the shearling and shaved Mimosa hairless. Australia is a tropical place.

A group of magnificent horses greeted me in the stable. They were large and powerful. One horse stood out—a majestic black stallion, aged but gentle. Another was a shy white mare, known for her gentleness and affection for people. And then there was a retired working horse, with silver-speckled fur and tufted legs.

I tried to pet them as I approached them, but they became restless, neighing and kicking. Perplexed, I decided to leave them be for now. I had attempted to offer them treats, but their reaction was always the same. 

Days passed, and I learned how to groom the horses meticulously. I made sure to feed them efficiently when they were in the spacious corral, before cleaning the stable. I diligently collected all the manure, knowing it would be useful for my flower beds. I had already planned the layout and had a gigantic pile of pots and loose dirt ready for planting. Mixing the horseshit with the dirt would provide nourishment for the plants.

I had been at the ranch for a little over a month, and the incubator I had used for hatching chicks was now stored on the shelf for future use. Unfortunately, my attempts at raising the chicks had been unsuccessful. They did not survive for long, no matter what I tried.

One night, for reasons I couldn't comprehend, I decided to transform into a wolf and take a walk. Though not in charge, Mimosa seemed to find amusement in my transformation. I had successfully hatched chickens, turkeys, ducks, geese, and peacocks. They were now three weeks old and happily roaming in their pen, each one with a name. I took pleasure in feeding them and observing their daily activities.

But on that fateful night, something within me snapped. I entered the enclosure in my wolf form and devoured every single bird I had nurtured. It was a shocking act, one that I couldn't explain. Mimosa didn't try to stop me. Instead, she laughed and jokingly suggested that I should grow more food for myself. I made a vow to keep this dark secret to myself, swearing not to share it with anyone. 

The following morning, as the sun's golden rays streamed through the window, I carefully placed the incubator on the worn wooden shelf. I released my grip and allowed the project to slip away a bittersweet farewell. The anticipation of witnessing the eggs hatch had been delightful, but it was time to move on.

Contemplating my next endeavor, I envisioned adorning my outdoor fence with vibrant plumes, envisioning a flock of chickens. Their melodious clucks would fill the air, harmonizing with the gentle rustling of leaves. The thought of having my fresh eggs warm and nestled in the coop filled me with a sense of contentment.

Although the idea of acquiring full-grown chickens lacked the thrill of nurturing a new life, I knew they would still bring joy to my humble ranch. Perhaps they wouldn't be as captivating as my previous collection of exotic birds, but they would possess their own rustic charm. I decided to keep this endeavor a secret, a pleasure hidden away.

As I pondered over the various breeds I could acquire, a lingering hesitation surfaced regarding the inclusion of a rooster. If I were to welcome one into my flock, I would be compelled to name him Damon, a playful nod to a fond memory. The decision remained uncertain, a choice I would have to make in due time.

To seek guidance, I reached out to one of the seasoned horse trainers. However, an unexplainable unease seemed to grip the horses in my presence. It wasn't Mimosa's fault, for she roamed freely, her inquisitive nose sniffing at the majestic creatures. No, it was me. I stood perplexed, unable to comprehend why my presence instilled fear within them. The trainer enlightened me, explaining that the horses perceived me as a predator, a beast in their eyes.

Undeterred, I continued with my routine, leading the horses out to the expansive pasture while I meticulously cleaned the stables and prepared their nourishing meals. I pondered how I could possibly diminish this perception of me as a beast, but the answer eluded me. Perhaps, I realized, it was futile to resist this characterization entirely.

Reflecting upon my idyllic vision of ranch life, I acknowledged that reality rarely aligns perfectly with one's imaginings. Chaos, it seemed, was an inevitable companion on this journey. Nonetheless, I embraced it. For what else could one expect?