my bleating heart

The boy's demeanor managed to not phase Aryn, for she was too enthralled with the creature at the end of his rope to remember that she had right to be nervous. This was a stranger, a man she'd never met before. Here she was telling him what to do with his lifestock without realizing that there could be wolves in the world who'd be opposed to the interjection. "I'm not an expert on goats." She admitted with a laugh. "I've never seen one before, actually. Maybe the reason you're struggling is because you lack the feminine instinct." The yearling's smile grew crooked, a small way to show him that she was just playing with him.

His next words caused her brow to raise incredulously, though she convinced herself he wasn't serious. Bravado, that's all this was right? Aryn could understand the boy doing his best to appear manly and strong to keep up his image, but there was no way he'd actually eat the thing, right? She decided to ignore his threat, and take a different approach.

Her paw caressed the carrots beneath it as she spoke. "What exactly will you do if it's not his fault that the babies don't come? Maybe he's a gentleman goat and wants to court his ladies properly. Does he have a time limit? Are you going to eat the girls who close their legs to him?" Her voice held her playful tone throughout her questioning, betraying the fact that she legitimately believed that perhaps the livestock had thought and feelings the same as they did. It didn't seem outlandish to her to believe that the goats might be capable of romance, after all she'd heard speech from the likes of horses and snakes and cats. Who was to say goats were any different?