The wolf Attacks
Ewe-Jean
Shep the Sheepdog
Wolf hunts for cotton
The wolf bounded down the hill. He had to time his next move just right – too early and the man would turn his cart around, too late and there wouldn’t be enough time for the fear to germinate. If the fear wasn’t at the right level when Wolf showed up on the trail, the man might do something unpredictable. Wolf didn’t want unpredictable. He wanted scared. He wanted raw, overpowering fear – the kind of fear that makes a man lose all sense of reason. If he could get the man to attain that state of fear, the cart would be his and by extension, so would the sheep.
Now was the time. Wolf let out a howl. It was the perfect howl for this occasion. He had worked on it, practiced it and perfected it. It was cold, sounded of death, chilled the marrow and caused the navel to quiver. Underneath was a desperate beauty. That was the key to this howl – just enough beauty to be unable to resist hearing and then listening to it.
He could hear the horse nicker and stamp. Wolf smiled. He was good. He let out a low growl that only the horse could hear at this distance. The animal became erratic. He knew the man would be on the verge of panic as well. They two usually mirrored each other’s feelings. They fed off of each other. Anxiety returned fear, fear returned panic, and panic removed reason.
Wolf slowed down to a leisurely trot. As he approached the side of the road, he lied down and waited.
The cart was coming around the bend. The man was trying to soothe his horse, but they were moving too slowly. Wolf kept to the darker shadows within the shadows as he crept toward the perfect place to strike.
He leapt onto the trail. The horse reared way back and came down – hooves flashing near Wolf’s head. The hitch broke, and the horse ran free. Wolf took note of the direction as the horse ran further into the valley and squared his shoulders to the man now sitting on an immobile cart. His fur bristling, Wolf snarled. The man hopped off the cart and ran back toward the entrance to the valley. Wolf chased him just long enough to make sure that he wouldn’t come back any time soon. He even nipped at his heels just enough to get some shoe leather. Then he went back to the cart. Time to take the cotton he had come for.
Shep the Sheepdog
Wolf hunts for cotton
The wolf bounded down the hill. He had to time his next move just right – too early and the man would turn his cart around, too late and there wouldn’t be enough time for the fear to germinate. If the fear wasn’t at the right level when Wolf showed up on the trail, the man might do something unpredictable. Wolf didn’t want unpredictable. He wanted scared. He wanted raw, overpowering fear – the kind of fear that makes a man lose all sense of reason. If he could get the man to attain that state of fear, the cart would be his and by extension, so would the sheep.
Now was the time. Wolf let out a howl. It was the perfect howl for this occasion. He had worked on it, practiced it and perfected it. It was cold, sounded of death, chilled the marrow and caused the navel to quiver. Underneath was a desperate beauty. That was the key to this howl – just enough beauty to be unable to resist hearing and then listening to it.
He could hear the horse nicker and stamp. Wolf smiled. He was good. He let out a low growl that only the horse could hear at this distance. The animal became erratic. He knew the man would be on the verge of panic as well. They two usually mirrored each other’s feelings. They fed off of each other. Anxiety returned fear, fear returned panic, and panic removed reason.
Wolf slowed down to a leisurely trot. As he approached the side of the road, he lied down and waited.
The cart was coming around the bend. The man was trying to soothe his horse, but they were moving too slowly. Wolf kept to the darker shadows within the shadows as he crept toward the perfect place to strike.
He leapt onto the trail. The horse reared way back and came down – hooves flashing near Wolf’s head. The hitch broke, and the horse ran free. Wolf took note of the direction as the horse ran further into the valley and squared his shoulders to the man now sitting on an immobile cart. His fur bristling, Wolf snarled. The man hopped off the cart and ran back toward the entrance to the valley. Wolf chased him just long enough to make sure that he wouldn’t come back any time soon. He even nipped at his heels just enough to get some shoe leather. Then he went back to the cart. Time to take the cotton he had come for.