Her eyes squinted as she raised a hand to her forehead, shielding them from the glaring sun. The puffy cotton balls scattered the blue sky. However, she was more intrigued with the cotton balls wandering the vast pastures, grazing on the slender slices of grass swishing in the breeze. Giggling to herself, she made her way to the lamb resting near the edge of the wooden fence post. “Hey there,” she whispered, crouching beside it. The newborn tilted its head toward her, bleating its approval. “Do you recognize me?” she asked. It bleated again. “I’m Bo.” The tiny ball of fluff rolled onto its side. The girl laughed at the creature’s request before moving her hand to his belly. She hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep the night he was born. She’d stayed up with his mama, waiting for his arrival. He’d been the smallest among the newborns as well as the weakest. Unlike the other lambs who stood minutes after entering this world, he kept tumbling to the ground. It’d taken him a while to feed, which gave Bo a scare. From then on she promised to keep him safe.
Her lips slanted downward at the brown lump staining the grass. While her parents were away she was to care for the flock. Bo’s brother, Eppe, was in charge of the dogs. That included picking up the dog’s poop, so why was a dropping sitting where the sheep fed? A rock the size of her hand sat on the other side of the fence. If it’d been where the rock was she wouldn’t have had to worry about it. She sighed, getting to her feet. “I’ll have to have a talk with him,” she muttered. It’d have to be after she cleaned this mess. Bo strolled to the red brick house back the way she came. Reaching the gate, she unhooked the latch and ran up the porch steps. The door slammed behind her as she went to the kitchen. She dug under the cabinets beneath the sink for a bag. A knock on the counter caused her to glance up.
Her brother leaned against it. “What are you searching for?”
“A bag to clean what was left of the poop you didn’t get.”
“What?” He asked, sitting up. “I watched them. I got everything.”
“Alright,” Bo said, not wanting to argue with him. She grabbed a plastic bag, passing him and retreating through the door once more. Her ears perked at the cries coming from the flock. They were huddled in the corner of the fence. The barn entrance was shut, so that left them in an anxious fit as they attempted to shove their bodies through it instead. Their pacing calmed at the sight of her walking to them. Then one by one they surrounded her. Bo surveyed the pasture for signs of why they were distressed. She raised a finger to her lips. “Shh,” she told the noisy ambushers. She couldn’t hear anything, but the wind and their wails. “It’s okay.” She patted the heads of the sheep rubbing themselves on her legs. If they were this frightened she thought it best to let them inside the barn early. She’d come back out later in the evening to lock it. Pushing through the flock, she took the handle of the door and pulled it. The door creaked, opening.
No instructions were needed for the sheep. Their hooves rattled as they stormed in all together. Bo shook her head, leaving them to cross the field to finish the task she’d set out to do in the first place. She covered her hand with the bag and bent down, picking up the poop. She looked over her shoulder at the forest to the right. She sometimes watched the deer emerge from its depths, stopping at the unknown barrier. Her dad had wanted space in between the forest and the fence, a protective distance. She smiled. Maybe she’d see a deer this evening when she came back out to lock the barn. Even a rabbit would chirper her mood. A newfound motivation in her midst, she bounced on her feet, skipping to the house.
***
Bahhh.
The strokes of the pencil striking the paper halted. Silence. The noise was gone. Bo’s hand remained still, the pencil suspended mid-air. Had it been a figment of her imagination? It was similar to one of her sheep. She should know, she’d grown up discerning every sound they uttered.
Bahhhhh. She kicked her legs from beneath the quilt blanket and sat up completely. That. She was sure it was a sheep. She laid the notepad and pencil on the table beside the couch. They wouldn’t scream like that for no reason. Bahhhhhhh. Her brother had turned in for the night already. There was no need to wake him up. She’d run outside for a quick check and come back. On her way out, she took a flashlight from the utility room and plucked a light jacket from the coat rack. Bo shivered. She decided to make use of it, slipping her arms inside the sleeves. A white light shined on the barn door. There wasn't any detection of a break in. The door stood in its place. There wasn’t damage to it or the walls. Bo undid the lock, stepping in. She moved the flashlight from left to right, scanning the entire barn. Eyes glowed at her, reflecting off the light.
Bahhh.
She went to the group, stooping to their height. In a soft voice, she asked, “What’s wrong?” They were huddled together just like before. She shifted, pausing when her shoe smushed a sticky substance. Her eyes narrowed. Dark scarlet chunks were splattered on the dirt floor. She followed the trail with the light. Underneath the wall was a hole connecting to the dangers of the outside world. Bo gasped. The wall was stained with blood. She released a sharp breath, glimpsing at the water trough. Tugging it by the metal handle she dragged it on top of the carved pit.
Bahhhhhhh.
Her head spun. She knew that high pitched squeal. Scouring the barn, she surveyed it for a lamb. Her breathing turned heavier. Another look. Her hands trembled. He wasn’t here.
A distant bah came from outside. She raced out, shutting the door after her in a hurry. Bo didn’t spare a glance behind her to see if it shut fully. Instead, she pointed the flashlight towards the woods. A flicker of movement grasped her attention. In the glimmer of light eyes met hers, beady hunger obsessed eyes. White teeth barred the lamb inside its mouth as it struggled to free itself. Its cries for help filled the quiet night. “No,” she yelled. Her sobs weren’t going to draw sympathy from the predator. It was too late for that. The lamb was in its clutches. Why would it give up now? It leaped over the fence and darted into the darkness.
During the time it’d jump the fence, Bo had been running at it. She held onto the wooden post, using it to climb the metal wire. Hopping down, her sneakers hit the hard ground. She didn’t waste time, and continued where she saw them go. Branches snapping and leaves being crushed in the gap between them kept her motivated that she was going the right way. A path of blood soiled the bushes. She kicked it, stomping on it after to create an open route. They were faster, more agile than her. She didn’t want to believe she’d lost them. She wasn’t ready to let go.
Chirping.
There had been chirping seconds ago. Chirping and buzzing had flooded her ears as soon as she entered the forest. Where was it? She circled, her flashlight whirling to find the source of the bugs’ silence.
Howls.
Bo grabbed her ears. Their shrills surrounded her. They weren’t anything like her dogs. Dogs barking didn’t resemble a painful laugh. A twig split. She turned to it. Red streaked the lamb’s coat. Its feet made a running motion.
He was alive.
He was alive and in the dog-like predator’s mouth. A second ear piercing screech rang. Bo swallowed. She didn’t have to look to know the shadows were moving. Behind her two silhouettes walked in opposite directions, both closing off her escape. She peered at the one holding the lamb. It lowered his head to the ground, dropping it. Then it growled, exposing its teeth. Bo put her hands in front of her, trying to show she wasn’t a threat. Squatting, she wrapped her fingers around a thick branch laying at her feet. The lamb’s head bobbed, seeing Bo. It called to her, wobbling as it attempted to get to its feet. Its captor snarled, opening its mouth. She swung the branch, regaining its focus. Studying the creature, Bo noticed its ribs were poking out of the sides. It looked on the brink of starvation. She’d been told many times that attacks on humans were rare.
Just appear bigger, be louder. That’s what her parents had told her.
“Get away,” she shouted. “Scram!” Her heart beat quickened. Why hadn’t it shrunk? It hadn’t even seemed to be scared of her. Saliva foamed around its mouth, leaking onto the ground. The lamb swayed as it went to her. “Stay there!” She waved the branch in front of her. The lamb settled on her foot. She picked the lamb up, cradling it in her arm. “Stay!” Bo took a step back. A low rumble stopped her from taking another. The lamb snuggled deeper into her arm.
Being bigger and louder wasn’t working. She should’ve brought a weapon, a shotgun, knife, anything. Where had her head been? She needed help. Did her brother wake up? Did he know she’d left the house? “EPPE,” she screamed. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “EPPE, PLEASE HELP ME.” She swung the branch as if it was a baseball bat as they stalked closer. “EPPE, I’M SORRY! I KNOW YOU DIDN’T LEAVE IT IN THE FIELD,” she sobbed. Her apologies were squandered on the threat before her. How could they not be? They didn’t understand a word she was saying. To them she was the same as every other animal they’d killed begging for their life with useless squeaks. One lunged for Bo, who instinctively smacked in response. The next one leaped at her. She fell onto her back, lifting the branch in time to shield her face. The creature’s teeth bit into it, inches away. She tried to throw it off, but it wouldn’t let go. She couldn’t hold onto it and the lamb. The dilemma? The lamb was sliding out her arm.
Bo threw the branch, catching the lamb with her other hand. Without looking behind her she took off, retracing where she came. “It’s okay,” she mumbled, unsure whether she was comforting the lamb or herself. “We’ll call the vet. I don’t know if the blood is yours, but we’ll get it checked.” The lamb rocked in her arms, his head hitting her shoulder once or twice. If a concussion was his only injury it was safe to say he’d live. Bo could see the lamps hanging on the back porch. Her heart lurched, almost flying from within her chest. They were home. All they had to do was climb over the fence. Bo dangled the lamb on the other side, letting him fall. She held onto the wooden post like she’d done the first time with one hand while the other gripped the top of the metal wire. She rested her foot in the square of the fence, pushing herself up. As she did she raised her other leg over the fence. Her upper half staggered, her foot getting caught in the square of the wire. Her arms flailed. Bo’s head collided with a jagged edge. She touched the spot where it’d hit. It didn’t feel like blood was seeping from it. She struggled to sit up. Her vision was blurred. She didn’t know if it was the water in her eyes or the fall itself that’d done it. Getting onto her knees, she reached out for the fence. She needed to climb it. That was her goal. She needed to protect the flock. It was her responsibility. She’d been doing it since she was a child.
Through the blurriness she made out the white fluff ball running back home, shrieking to let everyone know of his return. The other sheep inside the barn bleated, welcoming him. She laughed, resting her dizzy head onto the fence. He was safe. She’d rescued her baby lamb. She would have Eppe give the vet a call to come out. He needed a full check up. He may have been home, but that didn’t mean he was out of danger yet. Bo used the wire to stand up. “Let’s try this again,” she murmured. The rush of adrenaline she’d had was giving out. Her arms felt like noodles, flimsy and weak. “Mom, dad, and Eppe are going to love this story.” She steadied her foot on the square wire.
A deep echo grumbled from behind her. Bo’s smile curved downward. Her lips quivered. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to look. Her body had frozen the minute she heard the noise. A tear streamed from both her eyes. She had no fight left, only the pounding in her chest that told her if she kept staring straight she’d be alright, she’d be safe.
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