Wild and Feral

My dad always joked that I had grown up ‘wild and feral.’  I didn’t like to be inside and I didn’t like to wear shoes.  I just responded with the fact he shouldn’t have moved to a farm if he wanted me to be prim and proper.  That he shouldn’t have raised me as a tomboy. 

I did wear dresses and could knock any guy’s socks off, but I was so busy creating my own life, I didn’t always dress like everyone thought I should.  I had big plans for my life and none of them included living inside or living in the city.  And even though everyone seemed to think I didn’t care about my appearance or clothes, I was out to set them straight. 

I wanted to develop my own line of skin care, only using resources I found in and around our farm.  And despite what everyone thinks, I do care about my clothes and I do know how to use a computer.  I wanted and was working on designing clothes with companies who only used sustainable products and processes. 

When everyone thought I was laying out in the sunshine, I was working.  I was studying. I was creating.  I was dreaming.  I was happy with myself and where my life was going.  That was until the day the farm caught fire and I nearly lost everything dear to me.  It meant Jason was back for revenge.  Revenge for a life he thought should be his. 


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