My heeled bootie clicking on the floor adds to the din of the ravenous pigs before exiting the piggery. I had just finished my daily schedule while Zia, the swineherd, carried the pig feed. As usual, my hands are occupied with both the mop and an empty bucket.
I'm trailing down towards the main house, trying not to trip over my own feet as the terrain is a little slick and muddy due to the heavy rain yesterday.
"f**k!"
My feet come to a standstill as my eyes explore the place where the curse originated. My brow wrinkled as I noticed a blonde man in his late twenties stumbling outside the stable. I hurried towards him, almost ready to offer him a hand, but I did not expect his response. The genuine help I wanted to extend has only been replaced with an insult.
"I don't need a hand, ski
