Chapter Text
“Right, right. When you get sheet music, first you need to look at the key. See- no sharps no flats, easy.” Faroe stared up at him with her big brown eyes before she rested her hand on the grand. “Exactly, just those white keys. Now, we look at the time signature, thsts-thats this one.”
“It’s… four.” Faroe smiled, her rosy cheeks never failed to make Arthur smile.
“Yes! Now we look at the tempo- this score reading sets the stage for everything that comes after.”
The moon was dim, covered by long wispy clouds that danced as they draped over the sky in a lacy blanket. As the wind blew through the grass the animals stirred in their pen, no longer grazing as they do during the day. They were restless, for what? Wilbur Gates didn't know
“Damn animals, all worked up” he mumbled under his breath as he walked out.
No signs of an animal getting in, no signs of an animal getting out either. He counted his cows, 15 all together. He patted one on the head. Great creatures, cows were. Always sat still when he milked them, always so gentle. Truly he had no idea how beef farmers did it, none of his business he supposed.
“What're you all up for ey? All walking ‘round at night?” The cow did nothing but bat his eyelashes
*snap*
The tranquil moment was shattered as the sharp sound of breaking wood cut through the air. He turned.
A figure, a person clearly, moving in the woods, just far back where they could crouch under a fallen tree, watching. Is this why the animals were freaking out? This trespasser? Wilbur grabbed his shotgun, now discarded on the ground. The figure didnt move. As he focused on them he could see their cloak moving in the weak wind. Cloaked figure damn- what the hell was going on.
Wilbur fired, not at the figure, if they were lost or hurt, well he didn't need an innocent man dead on his land. Just a warning shot. Worked pretty nicely too judging the way they sprinted further into the woods. He sighed and rubbed his temple, and looked back on the cow lazily watching him. He sighed as she turned to go and do whatever his cows did.
The tail.
The cows tail dragged on the ground, long and spindley. None of his cows had tails that long- no cow should. He looked around at the other, all long tails. This must be a dream no? No it wasn't, the crisp summer night air was to real, to undoubtedly. But this couldn't be happening. He climbed over the small fence to look at the cows more closely. It was dark and this must just be a trick of the light.
A cow turned to him, still, mechanical like. Those eyes- those eyes were wrong. Wilbur was a dairy farmer; he knew what cows looked like- he knew they had shorter tails and he knew that the pupils were horizontal- not slits like a cats. The creature curled its lip revealing teeth, pointed canines that shouldn't be there. Another cow turned and it was the same thing, this one opened its mouths and a growl came out.
Wilbur must have lost it then. When he finally got control of his breathing he was in his truck with what money he had. The car ride was quick, terrifying, faster than he had ever driven before. His hands wouldn't stop shaking and he fought to get those images of what Were Not cows out of his head.
When he arrived at the hotel he gasped a request for a phone, the man working the desk gave him a puzzled expression mixed with poorly hidden disgust as Wilbur put the phone up to his ear.
“Operator,” a tired voice came through.
“I need- get me Lester Private Investigations.”