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“Ho! So, there you are,” a man with deeply sun-tanned skin in his early 50’s called out in greeting. He was standing on the doorstep of a lovely bricked home surrounded by patches of grass. Dressed in a thin white shirt and jeans. Diagonal to the house in the back was a barn structure. Faded red with white panels. A green tractor was parked out front. The large black wheels dripping with water from an earlier clean.

“Welcome to Gimje,” he held his hand out. Warmly smiling.

Sehun took his hand out of courtesy. Half-heartedly giving it a shake then pulled his hand back. “Where can I change? My shirt got dirty.”

“Oh no…” the elder man peeked at his shirt then looked at the rooster. “Sambok, how could you?”

The rooster clucked a tale of innocence.

“Sam…bok?” Sehun’s brow dipped. He narrowed a dirty eye at the girl he’d come with. Swearing she had called the rooster Minseok. Sehun scoffed, realizing he’d been tricked.

“What happened to the eggs?” the girl’s father stared at the yolk stained basket where half pieces of egg shells were scattered like puzzle pieces.

“I didn’t make it in time,” she replied.

“Go wash up. It’ll start smelling. Go on.”

“Come on,” she took a step toward the doorway pausing when he was also in the way. Their shoulders bumped. Sehun refused to budge. Shooting her his still nasty stare.

Sambok clucked noisily. Pacing around their legs and purposely stepped on his dear white tennis shoes with his feet. Leaving in his wake a faint brown mark. Sehun made a noise deep in his throat.

“My shoes!” he cried out hurling back.

“You should have worn something more appropriate,” the girl chided.

“Now, now,” her father cut in waving his hand to urge her inside. Sehun turned in time to see her making a face at him. Attention on him, “I’ll show you to your room.” He stretched an arm out to help with his suitcase. Offering, “Let me help.”

“No need,” Sehun snapped grabbing his suitcase. Lifting the baggage, he stepped into the house with his shoes on.

An open entryway on his right invited him into the broad kitchen. A cheery yellow with a cozy ambience. In the middle of the room was a square table with four chairs tucked in and topped with tiny flowers in a jar. On the counter miscellaneous kitchen tools sat around in an organized manner only the owner of the house would understand. Then…his nose twitched. He smelled food.

“Your room is this way,” the old man walked past him. Sehun followed.

On the creamy walls were pictures. Each one hung with careful thought from firsts to lasts in a mannerly time frame. Of a little girl shyly posing in front of her elementary class. Then more as she got older. Some with a younger man he recognized as her father. Until they got older together. Sehun spotted the most recent picture of them standing together in front of the wooden gates he’d just passed. Holding a plaque together.

To his right was another cozy room. Decorated with comfort in mind. The blue furniture still plump with couch pillows and a blanket draped over its back. Props for an easy nap whenever they tired. Surprisingly, they had a fireplace. Above it was seven potted flowers. Each of them the color of the rainbow. Sehun deducted it was the girl who had done it.

“You can call me Uncle Kim if that suits you better,” the salt and pepper haired man kindly explained. “You’re welcome to use anything here. I agreed to accept you on the condition that you at least help around. I promised your father to give you as much as you do.”

“As much,” he repeated, “as I do?”

A kind laugh rumbled from him, “We’re a non-profit, but we do run a business that lets people come enjoy our sanctuary and learn about animal welfare. There’s a place down the barn where we teach children to make ice cream from fresh milk. We’re also an affiliate with a nearby orange farm. When children come here on field trips, we take them down there to pluck oranges. It’s also a special activity on Thursdays for families that stop by.”

Sehun blinked as he sunk in the information. “I thought you said non-profit. That sounds like a whole scam to me.”

Opening a door at the end of the hall, Uncle Kim explained, “This is your room. When you’re done come out and have breakfast. Today, you’ll be learning from Namjoo.”

“Nam…joo?” he raised a brow.

“Yes,” he smiled proudly, “that’s my daughter.”

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Namjoo had just changed her shirt. Now she was at the back of the house. Crouching by the hose and rinsing the straw basket she had learned to weave from the elder ladies in town. It was a treasure she was proud of.

“That naughty city boy,” Namjoo mumbled. She glanced at her companion standing nearby, “Right, Bokbok?”

He bobbed his head clucking quietly.

“We’ll have some fun.” Namjoo his tiny head. Sambok closed his eyes dreamily. Remaining still under her touch. “Today, he’s in our hands.”

Flipping her basket on the doorstep Namjoo returned to the kitchen. The rooster followed her inside. After washing her hands, she pulled out a loaf of bread and dropped two slices into the toaster. Leaning against the counter and angling her leg as she snacked on a slice. Dropping crumbs onto the floor for her partner.

A spark came to life in her eyes when Sehun appeared from behind the wall divider. “Hungry, city boy?”

Stopping dead in his tracks he glanced at the rooster. “Why is he in here?”

“Why can’t Minseok be in here?” Namjoo asked.

Sehun’s lips turned crooked, “That’s not his name.”

“Oh?” Namjoo smiled amused. Sehun shot her his iconic dirty stare. She giggled, “Fine. Minseok is a celebrity I like. But I can call Bokbok anything. Why? Because he’s my friend.”

Namjoo tossed more crumbs onto the ground. The rooster greedily ate them up.

“You are very abnormal,” he remarked.

The bread in the toaster popped up. Namjoo grabbed them for herself, saying as she turned her back on him. “The coffeemaker is over there. You’ll find some cheese in the fridge. That should help ease your hunger.”

“Is that a way to treat the guest?” her father chided walking into the kitchen. Shooing Sambok away he said, “Go outside. Go, go on.”

The rooster clucked stretching its wings as he swerved and dashed out through the back door.

“Aww…dad, come on,” Namjoo whined watching her companion go.

“I’ve cleaned up his poop too many times, leave him outside.” Her father nagged. Bringing over the plate of toasts to the table Namjoo sat down and took a bite of the crunchy bread. “Why didn’t you make any for our guest?”

Namjoo glanced up at Sehun, “Like you always say, what are our hands and feet for?”

“It’s his first day.” Her father gave her the eye. “Go on, go make some for him while I fry us some eggs.”

Namjoo rolled her eyes. Smacking the table as she pulled herself up. From the corner of her eye she saw him smugly grinning. As she reached the counter, she swatted at the jar of jam she had pulled out.

“As your teacher, do I also need to teach you how to spread jam?” Namjoo teased.

“Teach me, teacher,” his smug grin grew wider, “how to make toast, too.”

Namjoo clenched her teeth to withhold from making a face. Flustered because he had decided to mock her by playing along.

“Watch carefully,” Namjoo said. She pulled out a slice of bread and dropped it into the slot on the toaster.

“I want one more,” Sehun demanded.

Namjoo breathlessly laughed, irked. Staring at him hard she pulled out another slice and slammed the button to start cooking the bread. Finishing, “And that’s it. Our first lesson of the day.” She patted his arm playfully as she walked by, “Good job, city boy.”

Returning to the table she sat down and took another bite of her toast. Turning to grin widely at him.

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His first job today was to feed the animals. What animals he wanted to ask. He’d seen only the cows, a horse, and the rooster. Leaving the clucking thing behind to guard the house he followed Namjoo down their 283-acre land. All pure grass and wild life. And the domesticated animals.

Nothing but earth out here and the stench of farm animals. The cows never smelled so strong before.

Sehun grimaced pinching his nose, “Don’t you have a face mask?”

“Why would you need one?” Namjoo asked. Tilting her head up she deeply inhaled then turned to him with eyes so wide and a smile so big his fist might fit in . “Fresh air!”

He scowled at her. More irritated with her each passing hour. Not only had she given him just two slices of toast but black coffee when she filled half her mug with creamer and tucked it right back into the fridge.

“Where are we going?” The brick home was far behind them now. The sun up so high and burning his back. He’d changed into a tee but sweat was soaking through already.

He hated this. He just wanted to lie under the shade, take a nap, drink some cool water. Just as the thought occurred, she out a water bottle at him.

“I saw you drinking from it,” he snarled. “I don’t want it.”

Squeezing the bottle his way to squirt out water she grinned. “Then suffer.” He watched her squeeze the bottle and water flowed out into . Unable to help but gulp because his mouth was so dry. Out here the damn wind was nowhere to be found. Almost literally he could see the heat waves in the air.

Snatching it from her he greedily gulped down a fair share. Clutching onto the bottle instead of returning it. Namjoo eyed him with a winning smirk. Then traced the length of his form with her gaze.

Sehun scoffed. “Hey, just say it if you think I look good.”

“No, I think you should have worn sunscreen,” Namjoo flatly commented. Turning away from him she said as they walked past a group of ducks sitting in the grass, “You’re not the first city person I’ve seen, so don’t hold your head so high.”

Sehun glowered at her.

Cocking her head to peer at him she said knowingly, “Don’t you know that it’s a person’s heart that makes them pretty, not their outside? I wonder where you stand on that scale.”

He stopped to stare after her bewildered. Biting his lower lip, he took a long stride after her, “Ok, you want to see who’s a better person? If I last the three months, I want you to apologize to me.”

“What’s in it for me?”

Pressing his lips together he ransacked his brain. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

Namjoo raised her brow. “Deal.”

He wiped his sweat with the back of his hand, “So, where in the world are we going?”

“Nowhere.” Namjoo spun around to face him. Hooking her hands at her back she grinned, “I was just taking you for a walk, so you get to know the land.” Walking past with a coy smile, “Lets go feed the goat before our first batch of visitors arrive.”

He in a breath and clenched his eyes shut. Patience he reminded himself. He needed to be patient. Gritting down on his teeth he followed.

“What goat?” he asked. “All I’ve seen are cows and a wild horse. And that bird.”

“Oh? Minseok?” Namjoo asked slyly.

Rolling his eyes, he mumbled, “Whatever.”

“Klairs was rescued from a petting zoo,” Namjoo explained. “Do you know what petting zoos are?”

“You’re really aggravating.” He told.

“Why, thank you,” Namjoo beamed. Then as if they’d never talked, she continued, “People think petting zoos are family friendly, but they don’t think about the animals; what happens to them, the conditions they really live in. The reality for them is quite different. Petting zoos only favor baby animals, but when they grow up, they’re sold for profit and replaced with new babies. It’s a cruel cycle.”

He shrugged, “Then how are petting zoos supposed to function?”

“Klairs was sold to a man who auctioned her off to a druggie who kept her in a crate so tight she could barely stand or move. When he got busted Klairs was so skinny she couldn’t stand. Her foot problems were so bad the vet didn’t think she could walk again.”

“So, she’s crippled?” Sehun asked.

Namjoo pointed to his left. He turned in time to see a tan goat happily walking toward them. He stepped back surprised, because she was moving so fast. Klairs looked like she was mischievously laughing. Those tiny eyes narrowing giddily. Bumping into him with her weighty body and pushing him aside. Bleating when Namjoo rubbed her nose with a laugh.

“Nope, she’s standing tall,” Namjoo giggled when Klairs tried rubbing her face. “Ok, take it easy.” Patting the goat’s nose Namjoo asked, “You want to touch her?”

“No!” he spat brushing his shirt annoyed. He didn’t want any furry thing nonetheless anything with claws touching him or his clothes.

“Suit yourself.” She replied. Gently Klairs’ nose Namjoo led her toward a smaller shelter nearby the barn behind her house. Left behind Sehun heavily sighed. Shoving down his complaint he stomped after her.

“Get some hay,” Namjoo pointed to a depleted stack nearby.

“And shove it up ?” She shot him a glare. “I’m kidding.”

Moving toward the haystack he hauled it up. Huffing, groaning because it was much heavier than it looked. Heaving it up he tossed it her way. It flew right into her calf.

“Ow!” Namjoo screamed then immediately turned to look at him. Sehun turned away guiltily. Mumbling underneath her breath she bent down to tear the hay apart. Placing it at her feet beside a big water bowl at the side. Then poured some grains over the strewn hay. Clapping her hands as the goat started eating, she stalked toward him.

Under the burning sun she looked menacing. Like God’s angel of vengeance with the half-blue half-yellow glow expanding behind her. The two colors vicariously merging into a blur as she neared. Hands held tightly at her side, face rigid and wired. Sehun took a step back. Intimidated.

Snatching the collar of his shirt at his nape, she turned him to face the barn where a dozen or less hay stacks were left. The depleted pile looked like a tornado had struck in the middle of the night blowing a large portion of it away.

“Tomorrow we get more,” Namjoo told. “I want you to stack each and every haystack pyramid style.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I say so,” she said in a low voice. Her eyes were glossy and cool this time. A smile sprang onto her face. “Good morning!”

Sehun muttered underneath his breath. Spinning to see a fellow group of ladies with an eager young boy.

“A chicken!” the young boy pointed at Sambok who had trotted up to them. Bobbing his head and clucking.

“He’s a rooster.” Namjoo bent down to introduce them. “His name is Sambok. He was just a chick when he was found roaming around the streets in Gwangju. We took him in when he was four months. At first we thought he was a hen but he got older and turned out to be a boy.” Namjoo’s smile inched wider. Sambok clucked louder and stretched out his wings as if to affirm his tragic background.

“He’s my best friend.” Namjoo beamed. Gently his tiny head, Namjoo asked the boy, “Do you want to touch him?”

“Chicken girl,” Sehun muttered under his breath. Namjoo glanced up at him through her frown. The entire group of ladies who had been enamored by her heartfelt story glanced at him with the same kind of disdainful frown. Each crinkled face disapproving.

Sehun laughed suddenly trapped. Awkwardly excusing, “Well, I mean…her best friend is a chicken.” He held his arm out to gesture toward Namjoo, as if they might not know who he was talking about. “Chicken…girl.”

“Will he bite?” the boy anxiously asked jarring the moment.

“No, he won’t. Sambok is very smart. He can tell who is good and who is bad,” Namjoo intentionally eyed him. “And he punishes them.”

“Really?!” the boy’s eyes went round.

“Of course!” Namjoo grinned.

She was a liar.

Namjoo spent a good hour touring the group. Letting them walk right over to the cows. Allowing them to touch and feed them. Then she led them over to Klairs who the boy mulled over and the women’s heart broke for. They walked and walked as the sun cooked them. Until his skin was scorched and the boy finally stopped whining about wanting to ride the horse.

Finally allowed a break he raced inside the house. Greedily sticking his head inside the fridge. The sweat had literally glued his shirt to his skin. He was one with his clothes. Sehun felt so disgusted. The thought of an ice bath was like heaven.

Shutting the fridge, he spotted the bag of bread on the counter. Hungry he wanted something in his stomach. Just as he unwound the knot on the bag a hand slammed down the opening.

“Seriously,” he breathed, irked, when he saw Namjoo.

“What makes you think you deserve a snack?” she asked.

The air felt so tight. It was so hot he could barely breathe. Everything was just so congested. This tightness in his chest made him want to go mad. And this chicken girl was so annoying. Her mere presence was a displeasure itself. She was such a nuisance!

Slapping his hand over her hold on the bag he tugged the bread his way. Namjoo refused to let go, even when his sweaty palm was smothering the back of her hand.

Leaning so far down that their noses almost brushed he challenged in a low baritone, “You want to try me?”