This was one for the books, let me tell you.
After a good hour of searching through the dense woods, we finally cornered our runaway LP. He was huddled against a massive tree, bare, trembling, with that half-fused mask still clinging to his face. His wild eyes darted between us and the newcomers—two Femcans from a neighboring farm, both looking more than eager to claim him.
Here’s the thing: out here in the Human Farm region, the rules are strict when it comes to unbranded LPs. Any LP that hasn’t been seared with our farm’s mark is technically “free range.” Any Femcan in the vicinity can claim them as their own if they manage to catch them first, which keeps every farm on their toes about processing fresh LPs fast. Branding night isn’t just a tradition—it’s a necessity. And this little pig had slipped out of our hands before the iron could touch him.
Femcan Tanya and I exchanged glances, reading each other’s thoughts. The last thing we wanted was to lose this LP. He was a meaty one, all prime cuts and perfect marbling. We could practically smell the potential, especially for his sausage and oysters—the richest, most prized cuts. But these neighboring Femcans, like vultures, were already laying claim. They’d been lurking at the border and had heard the ruckus; to them, he was fair game.
We approached cautiously, rifles lowered, but keeping an edge. Femcan Rhea, the head of their group, raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “He’s not branded,” she said simply, her tone laced with smugness.
I took a deep breath, trying to keep things diplomatic. “We were in the middle of processing him,” I replied, keeping my voice even. “You heard the alarms. This one belongs to the Human Farm.”
“But he’s unmarked,” Femcan Zara chimed in, her eyes gleaming as she looked the LP up and down. “We caught him on neutral ground. We’ve got every right to take him back to our camp.”
It was tense. Both sides were hungry for what this LP had to offer, and with a specimen like him, neither of us wanted to back down. But in these situations, there’s always a way to reach a compromise. I suggested the obvious option: cutting him in half, right there in the clearing. Each side would get their share, no fights, no fuss. But even as I said it, I could tell we were all thinking the same thing—no one wanted to lose out on the sausages and oysters. It’s rare to get an LP so well-endowed in both size and quality.
After a long pause, Femcan Rhea sighed, clearly mulling over her options. “Look, we need the prime cuts as much as you do,” she said, clearly reluctant to part with any part of him. “But maybe we can negotiate a trade?”
This caught my attention. Our river wheel had been breaking down recently, creaking and splintering under the weight of every LP roast. And we were running low on heavy-duty parts and extra firepower for future hunts. I glanced over at Tanya, who nodded, seeing the logic.
“We’d consider a trade,” I replied slowly. “River wheel parts, enough to get ours back up and running. And a few extra guns.”
Rhea thought about it, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the offer. After a brief huddle with her team, she looked back at us, expression hard. “Deal. We’ll provide the parts and three rifles. But we get the LP intact, including his sausages and oysters.”
It was a tough pill to swallow, but we all knew it was the best solution. I nodded, signaling our agreement. The neighboring Femcans wasted no time, binding the LP and hoisting him onto their shoulders, already celebrating their prize. His terrified eyes met mine, but there was no point in comforting him now; he was theirs to handle.
With the deal done, we turned back toward the farm, leaving the other Femcans to their catch. As much as it stung to watch that prime LP disappear into their territory, the thought of a fully functioning river wheel and some new hunting gear softened the blow. We’d be back up to full speed for our next Dinner Invite LP, and that, to me, felt like a win.
Until next time,
Femcan Lana
