Sericea paced impatiently along the edge of the rocky cliff, her claws tapping a staccato rhythm on the obsidian surface as her keen gaze swept over the small herd of shaggy black sheep grazing in the young pine forest below. Her tail flicked side to side, betraying the restless energy that thrummed through her slender frame. Something was wrong with one of the ewes. Even from this distance, Sericea could see the animal trailing behind the others, her movements stilted and clumsy. With ears perked forward, and eyes squinted to slits, she studied the sickly sheep with an intense focus.

The ewe's thick wool hung in matted clumps, and a froth of mucus dripped from her nose and mouth. Her rheumy eyes were glazed with pain and exhaustion. Without knowing what was wrong with it, she couldn’t help but come to the conclusion that the ewe posed a threat to the rest of the herd in some capacity. Sericea's lips curled back in a pensive frown as she leaned forward, resting her front paws on a jagged rock. Her claws flexed against the rough surface as a low growl rumbled in her throat. She knew what needed to be done. That sickly ewe was a liability, a weak link that could bring disease and death to the rest of the herd.

"Sericea Praetor-Inferos"

Zagan had been following Serciea through the pine forest. He was interested in her restless behavior- the way she paced the rocky cliffside, nervous energy radiating from her in palpable waves.

Something in the forest had her fixated- she didn’t even notice him stalking her from the shadows- didn’t hear him approach from behind until he was standing beside her. “Serciea,” He broke the silence, his voice low and quiet as he called her name.

He surveyed her for a moment, his gaze soft yet analytical, as he tried to decipher what had her so restless. He followed her line of vision next, peering down into the forest below. The sheep? They were grazing in their corral, oblivious to the wolves watching them from above.

Oh.

The sick ewe was easy to pick out- it moved slowly and hesitantly, its head lowered, its body not responding like the others. Its belly looked distended too, but not in the way a pregnant ewe’s belly would. It was ill.

“What will you do with it?” He asks, shifting his attention back to the crimson girl. It needed to be separated from the herd and slaughtered. But was the naive, sweet-hearted Serciea capable of that?

"Zagan Saxe"

Sericea whipped her head around at the sound of Zagan's voice, momentarily startled out of her intense focus. She hadn't even noticed his approach, so consumed was she by the dilemma presented by the sickly ewe. Her vivid green eyes met his, wide and searching, expecting to find some sort of input in the dilemma that presented before them. "Zagan," she acknowledged with a curt nod, her voice tight with barely contained agitation. She turned back to the herd, leaning forward once more with an intense, predatory focus. Her claws dug into the obsidian rock, scoring thin lines in the glassy surface.

"It's sick. Contagious, most likely," Sericea said bluntly, not taking her eyes off the ailing sheep. She tilted her head, studying the animal with a critical gaze. "It will spread its disease to the rest of the herd if left unchecked.” She paused, her ears flicking back as she considered the unpleasant but necessary course of action. "It needs to be culled. Removed before it's too late." Sericea's voice was cold and detached, but there was an undercurrent of uncertainty, a hint of doubt in her feminine features.

She glanced at Zagan out of the corner of her eye, gauging his reaction. Would he approve of her assessment?

"Sericea Praetor-Inferos"