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wished they could go to bed without me there. I didn't blame them. The few times that I did venture into town left me feeling drained and like I'd been a fake for far too long. I'd had enough years hiding who I was and what I felt when I'd been a child. I didn't need to do that as an adult too. That was supposed to be one of the perks of growing up and getting older. I knew getting older was a form of freedom, and I relished that realization every day that I had my own mind to follow my own choices. I had consequences and sometimes what I wanted to happen simply didn't. But it was up to me, not some all-powerful man that used that shield of a title to protect himself and entitle himself to what he thought he deserved.
    When the farmer joined me, I was putting up the last of the boards for the night and hadn't heard him come up behind me. Being so deep in my wayward thoughts was never a good sign and was not the safest place to be in by any means. My wolf alerted me to my own foolishness at not being more aware of what was around me, and I repeated my mantra in my head that I used whenever I was surprised by someone. 'Act human' may sound silly to someone else, someone not born of the forest and the moon, but it helped relax me. I repeated it until I knew that I had my reaction to being startled under control, until I felt safe again, and then I turned around to face him. If he'd announced his presence, I hadn't heard him, and my wolf did not like being snuck up on. I offered him a smile as if he hadn't just caused my wolf to dart forward and attempt to wrestle control of my body from me in the name of protection.
    "Hey. I didn't hear you come in," I said warmly. I put down the hammer where I'd found it and forced the lid back on the coffee can of nails before pushing it away as well. I'd done a good job, I knew that. A werewolf's enhanced sight and my own attention to detail made for a pretty decent-looking barn interior.
    There weren't too many women, not to mention men, who could work for as long or as hard as I did. I didn't tire like humans did, didn't get hungry or bored. But I'd had plenty of gigs like this and knew there were all kinds of people. I dreaded this part, because I knew that I'd have to accept whatever he'd want to give me for my work, even if it was lower than the discount I'd already given him when I'd come to him earlier that day.
    "It's a little better," he said, his voice sounding flat and giving nothing away.
    I looked around at my work, wondering how he could say such a thing. It was much improved with a good bit of the work done. But I didn't argue, only nodded and prepared to take the cash that I would be given. My wolf protested the whole ordeal. Though she didn't quite understand what had happened, she knew the value of what we had done and didn't like the feeling of apprehension in my belly. There was more work to do, not much, but we'd get by before it was time to turn in the rent at the end of the month.
    "Here, thanks for stopping by." He held out a bit of money, all twenties.
    I took it, easily counting it in only a second or two, and looked up at him. It was more than I'd asked for, even a little more than the amount offered on his flyer. My confusion must have been apparent on my face, because he stuffed his hands into his big flannel coat and looked almost apologetic as he said, "Sorry it's not more. You did good. But times ... they're tough, and I've got to feed my family and the livestock and ..."
    I pocketed the cash. "Thanks," I said, silencing him and any further apology he wanted to give me. I didn't need it. He'd given me more than I'd expected, and I would gladly take it and give it to my landlord. Maybe he'd even let me come back and do some more work for him another time.
    One of the horses loudly neighed and put his ears back. I turned fully toward him, not liking his attitude. He was trying to tell me to get out of his area. Normally I would have gladly done just that, but I