The wolf hunts cotton
Ewe-Jean
Shep the Sheepdog
Even at this distance, the wolf could see the beads of sweat forming on the man’s brow. He hadn’t even entered the valley yet, and he was already glancing nervously around him.
The wolf howled. The more nervous the man became, the easier it would be to take what the wolf needed. The wolf didn’t like men. They were sweaty and seldom bathed. They were bitter desperate souls. They weren’t the kind of being that made for a good meal – always biting, fighting, scratching – but they did have cotton. He needed the cotton to barter with the Weevil. The Weevil would bring him succulent sheep. Just the thought of the juicy sweetness of a lamb made his mouth water. Sheep were sweet and innocent. They didn’t fight. Sometimes they would cower, but more often than not, they were too frightened to do anything but serve as dinner.
He yipped at the thought. He didn’t mean to yip, but the excitement was so much that he couldn’t help himself. Down below, the man wiped the sweat from his forehead. His cart had just entered the valley, and soon the shadow of Deth Mountain would engulf the pitiful creature.
What desperate situation could have drawn the man to this place by himself, the wolf didn’t know, and though the thought flitted through his mind, he really didn’t care. It was time to go a-hunting. He howled again in triumph. This prey was his even before the trap had been sprung.
Shep the Sheepdog
Even at this distance, the wolf could see the beads of sweat forming on the man’s brow. He hadn’t even entered the valley yet, and he was already glancing nervously around him.
The wolf howled. The more nervous the man became, the easier it would be to take what the wolf needed. The wolf didn’t like men. They were sweaty and seldom bathed. They were bitter desperate souls. They weren’t the kind of being that made for a good meal – always biting, fighting, scratching – but they did have cotton. He needed the cotton to barter with the Weevil. The Weevil would bring him succulent sheep. Just the thought of the juicy sweetness of a lamb made his mouth water. Sheep were sweet and innocent. They didn’t fight. Sometimes they would cower, but more often than not, they were too frightened to do anything but serve as dinner.
He yipped at the thought. He didn’t mean to yip, but the excitement was so much that he couldn’t help himself. Down below, the man wiped the sweat from his forehead. His cart had just entered the valley, and soon the shadow of Deth Mountain would engulf the pitiful creature.
What desperate situation could have drawn the man to this place by himself, the wolf didn’t know, and though the thought flitted through his mind, he really didn’t care. It was time to go a-hunting. He howled again in triumph. This prey was his even before the trap had been sprung.
Read about Wolf attacks