When in Doubt, We Cull

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"