counting sheep

Tyrian was quietly picking along in the brush along the river in search of a runaway sheep. He knew the sneaky bastard had come throw here because there were hoof prints everywhere. This particular sheep was a bit of a problem child. It was too smart for its own good. The clever beast had learned how to undo latches and was smart enough to wait for its minders to fall asleep before it got up to no good. In other words it was a sheep in a league of its own. Given the infuriating behavior of the rest of the flock's younguns Tyrian could only assume this one had received all of the smarts for its generation. The sheep was so notorious it even had a name: Wily.

Tashi, what was sitting on his back, motioned for him to stop. The langur then pointed into the distance, his long, thin finger drawing Tyrian's attention to the path the sheep had ultimately taken after wandering around in the bushes. It was headed towards the water. Perfect. Up ahead was a bend that he thought he could trap the beast in. The water was too high for it to swim across so if he and Tashi split up they should be able to corner it.

The langur leaped off his back and the pair separated, each cutting a path on either side of the one the sheep had taken. If one of them ran into the sheep they each knew it was their responsibly to push it towards the other. Being tall and blue, Tyrian crouched down as he pushed through the bushes. Soon his cover would be gone and he'd be out in the open. Actually...was that movement he heard up ahead? It was, wasn't it? It had to be Wily.

Thinking he had the beast in his grasp Tyrian leaped from the bushes. If it was as close as he thought it was he was going to tackle it and if he'd misjudged the distance well then, he'd give chase. Either way, Wily wasn't getting away.