d window, I could see a patch of gray sky. The town's laughter still echoed in my ears.

just a tired one. He brought me a

the bars. "I've been sheriff of this county for fifteen y

wer for him. I barel

My parents, who passed away when I was young, told me it was a sign. They ne

hey took my ability in. I was never just Ethan, the orp

ith games and scraped knees.

well's runni

w is sick. Can you

of land is barren

, to feel like I belonged. They would pat my head and

s, its healthy livestock. People from other counties would drive through and marvel at the lush

ot mine. I was just the e

s. But slowly, you start to feel the bottom. After a long day of mending soil or healing animals, I would come home with a deep ach

told Mr. Gable that I needed to rest,

ed that thin, pl

A gift from God

ed asking and started telling. The pats on the head stopped. Instead, I got impatient

at me not with gratitude, but with a strange mix of envy and contempt. I was a constant r

I tried to fight it, pouring my energy into the fields until I collapsed from exhaustion. My vi

the first time, I couldn't

finally boiled over into open hatred. It was easier to call m

just tired anymore. I felt hollowed out. I had given them my childhood, my energy,

came back. He

. It's ridiculous, but they're a unified front. My hands are tied, Etha

my fate, made my chest feel tight. But what else was there? I had no one. The town of H

think about the town, or the crops, or their needs. I thought about the feather. The constant, warm we

red what els