Post by twisting on Jan 25, 2011 4:16:07 GMT -5
Kuriel lay quietly in the short brush. Around her in the flock browsed peacefully, the regular clack of the wooden clapper around the lead doe’s neck enough to let her know everything was well. Her hands were laced together behind her head, cushioning her from the stony ground. This section of the clearing wasn’t suitable for raising crops, so it was left to the goats. Kuriel was fond of this herd, the lead doe was a gristly old girl who didn’t jump at shadows like some of the younger does. Her calm infected the flock making for an easy day. As usual, there were no males in the flock; their musky presence tainted the milk.
Watching the clouds float lazily by Kuriel wasn’t prepared for the startled chorus of panicked bleating that interrupted her daydreams. Daydreams of flying far from this walled prison on the back of a dragon. She sat up swearing and watched her herd scatter across the field. Without looking to see what had started them she pursed her lips and let out a long sharp whistle. From the brush nearby a black and white canine sprang up. He wasn’t hers; he was part of the Beastcrafter Master’s kennels. Kuriel, and all the sheppards had worked with him and his kennelmates often enough. She controlled him easily with whistles. Long to release, short to drop him in his tracks.
Working with the dog and a long narrow switch she managed to roughly corral the herbivores into an untidy mob. Only then did she turn to scold whoever had startled them. Some of these does had yet to kid, and spooking them was a good way to bring on early labor. Others still had young kids at their sides, which were stupid enough to injure themselves while fleeing. These goats were valuable, and Kuriel would suffer if she didn’t bring them back in the same condition they left in.
Watching the clouds float lazily by Kuriel wasn’t prepared for the startled chorus of panicked bleating that interrupted her daydreams. Daydreams of flying far from this walled prison on the back of a dragon. She sat up swearing and watched her herd scatter across the field. Without looking to see what had started them she pursed her lips and let out a long sharp whistle. From the brush nearby a black and white canine sprang up. He wasn’t hers; he was part of the Beastcrafter Master’s kennels. Kuriel, and all the sheppards had worked with him and his kennelmates often enough. She controlled him easily with whistles. Long to release, short to drop him in his tracks.
Working with the dog and a long narrow switch she managed to roughly corral the herbivores into an untidy mob. Only then did she turn to scold whoever had startled them. Some of these does had yet to kid, and spooking them was a good way to bring on early labor. Others still had young kids at their sides, which were stupid enough to injure themselves while fleeing. These goats were valuable, and Kuriel would suffer if she didn’t bring them back in the same condition they left in.