When in Doubt, We Cull
10 hours ago
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?
