Sorry chapter 7 was posted wrong.
The wind had picked up by the time Raven pulled into the gravel lot of Boone Ridge Agricultural Stock. The wooden signage creaked in the breeze above the main gate, and a scattering of snow whipped across the muddy drive. She eased the Ironhowl X4 to a halt, boots hitting gravel with a thump as she stepped out.
The air smelled of hay, manure, and fresh winter air. Rows of fencing penned in turkeys, ducks, goats, and dozens of livestock. She walked toward the main barn, watching chickens scatter as the barn doors creaked open.
A woman in her forties stepped out wiping her hands on a cloth, bundled in insulated coveralls. Her sharp eyes assessed Raven with the kind of practiced wariness only farmers and survivors shared.
"You Margery Boone?" Raven asked.
"I am. You the Salvatore girl?"
"Raven. I'm here on behalf of my father."
Margery raised a brow. "Didn't think the Salvatores dealt in livestock."
"He's looking into vertical integration. Less third-party meat suppliers, more control. I'm here to assess your operation."
Margery grunted and waved her inside. "We've got everything from feathered to four-legged. One-stop shop."
Raven followed her through the barn and out the back into the livestock yard. Everything was clean. Pens were well-maintained. Animals looked strong and alert. No sick stock. No hormone-fed bloaters. It all passed Raven's internal checklist.
"No synthetic enhancers?" she asked, brushing hay off her coat sleeve.
"We run organic," Margery replied. "Always have. Can't stand the artificial stuff."
They passed a larger paddock where a dozen sturdy Mustangs stood. Raven stopped.
"You breed those?"
"High-end stock. Hard to move, but tougher than steel in a pinch."
Raven nodded. She wouldn't need them for meat. But for travel or trade, they were gold.
By the time they returned to the main barn, she had the numbers ready.
"One hundred chickens. Two hundred turkeys. Fifty cows—twenty-five male, twenty-five female. One hundred ducks. Fifty rabbits. Forty pigs. Thirty goats. Twenty geese. Twelve Mustangs—six male, six female. Fifteen pheasants. Ten quail breeding clusters."
Margery whistled. "That's half a petting zoo and half a war ration. You planning to breed all of them?"
"Yes," Raven said. "All of them."
Margery squinted. "That's gonna be a hell of a delivery."
"There won't be a delivery," Raven said calmly. "I'll transport them myself. I just need a few hours alone with them."
Margery gave her a long look. Then shrugged. "You're the one with the checkbook."
Raven handed over the black credit card. "Paid in full."
While Margery went to process the paperwork, Raven returned to the pens.
One by one, she opened the system interface and began silently transferring the livestock into Sanctuary. Each flicker of stasis light took the animals off the field and into the accelerated ecosystem of her private world.
> **[One Unit Transferred: Adult Layer Hen]**
> **[One Unit Transferred: Muscovy Duck]**
> **[One Unit Transferred: Stallion – Mustang Breed]**
> …
Goat by goat, chicken by chicken, every beast vanished into the controlled world where time moved five times faster and where death, decay, and disease couldn't reach.
When Margery returned hours later, the fields were empty.
She blinked. "What the hell happened to all the animals?"
"Relocated," Raven replied. "My father's facility is active now. They'll be better off there."
Margery scratched her head. "Didn't see any trucks."
"They're efficient."
Raven brushed off her coat, nodded once, and turned to leave.
"Where you headed next?" Margery called.
"I need crop seed. You know a place?"
"Wilkins Feed & Seed. West side. Ask for Dilly."
Raven climbed into the Ironhowl and keyed the ignition.
Sanctuary's livestock were secured.
Next: the fields to feed them.
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