Scars

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

This is a short story, only 12 chapters. We begin years ago, on the Edwards farm in Wyoming. Enjoy!

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Chapter 1: Afternoon on the Farm

Martha Edwards stuck her fingers between two of the blinds and grinned as she looked out, watching the sheep file back into their barn through a gate in the yard. She finished drying her hands and set aside the towel, taking one last glance into the oven to make sure her pie wasn’t finished yet before she walked outside.
Old Slim, the elderly sheepdog that had been minding the sheep as long as she had known her husband, George, and been spending time here on his father’s, and now his, farm, calmly walked along the line, occasionally tapping one of the sheep on the flanks or legs with his staff to get them back in line. Meanwhile, Scout- the excitable new sheepdog-in-training, ran up and down the line, wagging his tail excitedly and barking. When the last sheep made it into the fenced-off area, Scout scrambled up the fence and mounted the sheep, sitting cross-legged atop her with a grin on his face.
Martha chuckled and approached, watching Scout ride his mount around as she made her way to the water trough for a drink. “So, Scout, how was your first day out helping Slim watch the sheep?”
Scout’s tail wagged, and he looked up at her excitedly. He popped up to his paws and leapt from sheep to sheep until he landed on the fencepost, balancing atop it to be close to her head level. “It was GREAT, Ma! Ah watched out fer predators an’ ah kept th’ sheep from fallin’ in th’ river an’ EVERYTHIN’!”
Slim grunted, leaning his staff against the barn wall and taking off his whistle to hang it on its hook. “Needs more trainin’. He’s too excitable. Wouldn’t sit still. Had th’ sheep nervous all day.”
Martha chuckled. “Well, you still got a few months in ya, don’t you? We’ll get him all settled down and ready before you retire.”
“Been trainin’ ‘im seven years, an’ ‘e still ain’t listen.” Slim grunted again with a scowl. “Gettin’ t’ be a purty good shot with th’ trainer sling. Might be time t’ let ‘im craft ‘is real sling soon. But ‘e’s too loud fer sheepherdin’. Gotta learn t’ shut his muzzle an’ listen.”
Martha laughed and reached down to ruffle Slim’s head. “Well, what do you expect? This was his first time joining you on watch. He’s excited! He’ll settle down.”
Slim grunted and watched Scout walking along the fence, looking for a sheep to drop down onto. “He’s been out t’ th’ fields b’fore. Lots’a times.”
“Yeah, but never on watch. Before, he was just visiting. Today was his first day actually on the job.” She smiled. “I have to go, I left a pie in the oven. You boys get yourselves settled. Dinner’s gonna be a bit.”
Slim grumbled and turned to walk into the barn, reaching up and grabbing Scout by his collar. “Git down off’a there an’ come inside, ah wanna talk t’ ya.”
Martha watched Slim drag Scout into the barn, then rolled her eyes and walked back up to the house, immediately grabbing an oven mitt and taking her pie out of the oven. It was slightly darker than she generally liked, but not by much. She supposed it would do, since they weren’t having company over. She set it in the windowsill to cool, then turned her attention to making supper.
Just after putting the Salisbury steaks into the oven, she heard George walk in, his heavy work boots thumping on the wooden entryway floor as he took them off and dropped them into their spot one by one. She smiled and walked over to greet him, putting her arms over his shoulders and kissing him. His two-day beard prickled her face as he grabbed her hips and kissed back.
“Mm. I just got dinner in the oven. You have about twenty minutes to shower if you want to.” Martha looked him over. He was filthy from whatever he and the farmhands had been doing today, covered head to toe in dust.
“Sounds good.” He grunted, turning to walk down the hall toward their bedroom. She followed and watched as he sat on the bed and started to undress.
“I spoke to Slim and Scout when they got back from the grazing field.” She eyed him over. Thirty years married, and she still enjoyed the sight of him, all muscles, but with just enough belly from being well-fed to keep him thick around the middle, perfect for grabbing.
“Yeah? An’ how’d that go?” He tossed his shirt into the hamper and stood up.
She shrugged. “About like you expected. Scout was raising a ruckus out in the field and made the sheep nervous. Slim’s cranky about it, as usual. I think he was secretly a little proud of him.”
George gave a little scoffing grunt that Martha lovingly recognized as his laugh. “Pup’s a lotta trouble.”
“He’s YOUNG. He’ll grow out of it. I seem to remember a certain farm boy climbing up on the roof of the high school to hang a homemade banner asking me to prom when he was about the equivalent age.” She raised an eyebrow with a giggle.
“Didn’t work. Said no.” George scoff-grunted again, standing up and walking through the door into the bathroom to start the shower running.
Martha didn’t follow him, but she stood by the door to continue speaking to him. “The point is, he’s just got a lot left to learn. He’ll figure it out. Just like you did.”
“Hmmph.” George pulled the shower curtain closed.
Martha chuckled and closed the bathroom door, then walked back out to the kitchen and turned her attention to the potatoes boiling on the stove. It took a bit of mashing and a lot of butter, but before long she had five plates of mashed potatoes sitting on the counter, waiting, and a pot of gravy simmering on the stove, which she whisked diligently every few seconds to keep it from forming a crust.
The steaks got done in the oven, and she popped one onto each plate, scooping a generous portion of gravy and peas onto each, then stepped out onto the back porch to clang a triangle hanging from the awning. “Oh, boys! Supper’s ready!” She called out into the yard.
Immediately, the border collie pup popped out of the barn and started running full-tilt toward her, followed by the more leisurely pace of the elderly kelpie. She smiled at them, then glanced around to see Tom, the barn cat, strolling around the corner, half of his brown fur slicked down from an interrupted tongue bath.
She chuckled and retrieved three of the plates of supper from the counter next to the back door, distributing one to each of the three animals. “Here’s your supper. Enjoy. Don’t make me come out to the barn to get the plates again.”
“Thanks, Ma!” Scout chimed in happily as he accepted his plate. He goggled at the larger portion he was entitled to, as an official working dog on the farm, then hurried off as if worried Martha would realize she had made a mistake and swap it out for a smaller plate.
Martha chuckled as she watched Tom plop himself down on the edge of the porch to enjoy his supper while Slim walked off with his plate after Scout, then closed the door and turned to grab the two remaining plates, setting one at the table and sitting behind the other herself just on time to watch George appear at the end of the hall, his hair still wet, dressed in a raggedy old tee shirt and a pair of flannel night pants.

[Amazee Dayzee]

It is nice to see how things worked back when Scout was a pup before he had the experience now as an older sheepdog! I think I am really going to enjoy this story!

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 2: The Slingshot

Scout grinned and jumped from sheep to sheep, crossing the barn in seconds before plopping down cross-legged on the ram’s back. The ram glanced up at him for a moment, then lowered his head back down to resume munching on some hay with a roll of his eyes. Scout’s grin turned to Slim with a wag of his tail. “It was fun, workin’ with you today. Can ah do it again tomorrah?”
Slim looked up from where he was resting, leaning against one of the barn’s support posts, then grumbled and looked back down again. “Ye’re too noisy. Shut up.”
Scout snickered and lay back, burying his hands in the ram’s soft wool. “Aw, lighten up. Why are ya always so GROUCHY? Ah thought we did a great job.”
Slim snorted. “Ya were talkin’ so much, ya missed fifteen disturbances out in th’ field. Fifteen! Any one’f ‘em coulda been a coyote, a wolf, a mountain lion, a bear, an’ ya woulda missed it.”
Scout huffed. “But they weren’t! All th’ sheep got home jus’ fine.”
“No thanks t’ you, pup. Did ya even notice Agatha leavin’ th’ line halfway home?” Slim pointed to a brownish sheep that was laying down against the wall. “Ya were only ten feet away when it happened, an’ yet ah had t’ chase ‘er down an’ bring ‘er back.”
Scout frowned over at Agatha for a moment before turning his attention back to Slim. “Ah… might not’ve. Maybe ah knew ya could handle it.”
Slim stood up, then leaned over and flicked Scout’s nose. “Ya weren’t payin’ ATTENTION. Ya were too busy runnin’ yer GOB t’ use yer EYES.”
Scout put his ears back and started rubbing his nose where Slim had flicked it. “Ah WAS payin’ attention! There’s just so many in th’ flock, mah attention weren’t on THAT spot at th’ moment.”
“Ye were runnin’ yer mouth an’ missed a sheep gettin’ outta line. Do ya even know how many sheep’r IN this flock?” Slim pointed a finger directly into Scout’s face. “Gimme a number, right now.”
Scout screwed up his face and tried to do a quick count in his head. “A hun’rd an’ fifty?”
Slim scowled at him. “There are one hundred and thirty-one sheep in th’ flock. One ram, one hundred an’ twenty ewes, an’ ten lambs. Git over here.” He grabbed Scout by the collar and dragged him over to the straw pile where he slept. Once they were there, he snatched a wooden box off the floor next to the wall and opened it. He picked out three pieces of long, thin leather cord, a smaller, squatter rectangular piece of leather with a hole on each end, and four wooden beads, balling them up and plopping them down in Scout’s hand.
Scout stared at the assortment of items with a frown. “What’s this?”
“Yer sling. When ye figure out how t’ put it together, ye can come out in th’ field with me again.” He marched over to Scout’s little wooden box and opened it up, taking out the trainer sling.
Scout protested. “But how’m ah supposed t’ put it t’gether without another sling t’ look at!” He ran over to try and reclaim the trainer sling.
Slim held it high over his head, pulling it into his hand by tugging in the cord with two fingers until the entire slingshot was wadded up in his hand. “That’s th’ point. If’n ya been payin’ attention like ah told ya, ye should be able t’ put it together easy-like. If not, ah s’pose ye’re gonna have t’ learn t’ use that brain ya got between yer ears.” He poked Scout’s head with a snort.
Scout grumbled and plopped down in his hay pile, staring at the things in his hands. “Ah can do this. Ah’ve been usin’ a sling fer years. Ah know what it looks like…”
Slim turned out the light and flopped over in his own hay pile. “Figure it out tomorrow. It’s time t’ sleep.”
Scout grumbled and fumbled in the dark for his box, stuffing his handful of things in and closing the lid before laying down in his hay pile. He was quiet for a few moments before speaking again. “Hey, ol’ Slim…”
“Sleepin’ ain’t a talkin’ activity.” Slim snorted.
“Ah know, ah jus’ had a question.” Scout put his ears back and glared into the dark in Slim’s direction. When Slim didn’t answer, he took it as permission to ask his question. “Did you ever lose a sheep?”
Slim continued to be quiet for a few moments. “Ah lost a couple. Long ago, when ah weren’t much older’n you are.”
Scout sat up, his ears perking. “What happened? How did ya lose ‘em?”
“Hush now, pup. It’s sleepin’ time. Ah’ll tell ya th’ story some other time.” Slim rolled over in the dark with an air of finality.
Scout put his ears back and lay back down, staring into the dark for a few moments before he closed his eyes and started trying to go to sleep.

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Scout carried the breakfast dishes up onto the back porch and set them in their usual spot on the table, then put his ears back when he heard the sounds of the sheep starting to file out of the barn and onto the path. He turned and darted over to the fence. “Wait fer me, Slim! Ah’m comin’!”
Slim paused, putting out his staff to stop the sheep from following him, and turned to Scout, shaking his head. “Ah told ya last night. When ya get that sling put t’gether correct-like, ya can come back out t’ th’ field with me. Not b’fore. Stay home, pup.” He unceremoniously turned and resumed leading the sheep out to the grazing fields.
Scout gave a sour face and watched them until the last little bobbed tail of the last little lamb had disappeared over the hill before stomping off to the barn, collecting the pieces out of his box and stomping back over to the porch, throwing himself down onto the wooden deck and laying the pieces out in front of him.
A few moments later, Ma opened the door on her way out in her overalls and boots, then paused to look down at Scout. “Oh! Scout, what’s the matter? Slim already went out with the sheep. Why aren’t you with him?”
Scout looked up at Ma bitterly, then gestured crankily at the collection of leather and beads in front of him. “Slim says ah can’t come out with ‘im until ah put t’gether this here sling. Says ah’m too noisy an’ don’t pay attention.”
Ma crouched and ruffled Scout’s ears. “Oh, and it seems you’re a little upset about that, huh?”
Scout huffed. “Ah can pay attention! Ah ain’t THAT noisy! Slim’s wrong!”
Ma chuckled. “Oh, Scout. Slim’s been here since your Grandpaw was half your Paw’s age. He might seem a little cranky, and maybe he is, but if he says you’re too noisy, then you’re too noisy. I’m sure that he’s trying to teach you something with this. Don’t you worry, I’m sure you’ll figure it out and be back to work in no time.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Flash forward to a few weeks later and Scout STILL hasn't put together the slingshot because it is too complicated and he is wasting time one it. Then Slim finally gets so exasperated he just puts it together for him.

Of course when I say that I am joking but it would be pretty funny though I know that Scout will eventually put the slingshot together and prove his worth to Slim.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 3: Details

Scout scowled down at his hands, grumbling a little as he clumsily braided the leather together. He paused to hold up the sling, glaring at it. It was awkward and messy, with loops sticking out here and there. He grumbled some more and put his ears back, starting to unwind it.
After trying again six or seven times, he managed to come up with a sling that looked SOMEWHAT passable. He’d managed to incorporate all four beads and the thicker piece, anyway. It didn’t look as nice as Slim’s, or the training sling he’d been using before, but it was at least together. He held it up and examined it proudly. The braid wasn’t super tight, giving it a texture in his hand that he kind of liked.
The sound of walking hooves sounded, and Scout’s ears flicked. He jumped up and ran out into the sheep pen to watch the sheep starting to file back in for the evening. It took him only a few seconds to get on top of the fence and crouch, watching Slim gently pat each sheep on the hip as she filed into the pen. Once the ram brought up the rear, Slim gave a satisfied nod and stepped through the gate himself, closing it behind him and looking up at Scout.
Scout grinned and proudly held up his sling. “Ah did it. Ah got it put together. That means ah can come with ya out t’ th’ field tomorrow, right?”
Slim grunted and walked over to the barn door, hanging up his whistle and setting aside his staff before going inside. Scout followed, a little irritated that he didn’t look right away. Once Slim had gotten settled in his favorite sitting spot, he put out his hand for Scout’s sling. Scout proudly laid the leather creation into his hand. “See? It ain’t perfect, but ah reckon it’s t’gether.”
Slim barely looked at the sling. With a flick of his wrist, the bead on one end came out, and the braid started to unwind. Scout cried out in dismay, staring at his ruined creation with his ears held back. Slim grunted. “Yer braid’s too loose. Ya ain’t sealed off th’ end properly. Yer stone cup ain’t in proper. If’n ya’d tried t’ use this, ya’da lost th’ bead an’ smacked herself in th’ face with yer shot. If’n ya’d been in a fight when that happened, ye’d find yerself in a fight with nothin’ t’ fight with. And a headache.”
He tossed the piece back at Scout’s paws. “Take it apart an’ do it again. But this time, do it right.”
Scout stomped his paw. “Why’d ya DO that?! Ah worked hard on that, an’ ya BROKE it!”
Slim raised a hand at Scout, but didn’t smack him. He just pointed his palm at him and glared at him. “Shut yer yap, pup. If’n it were done right, ah wouldn’ta been ABLE t’ take it apart that easy.”
Scout snorted and snatched up the pieces, stomping off to the other side of the barn and starting to angrily pull it apart. Once he had it apart, he angrily jammed one of the beads back on and started braiding it again.
“Wrong.” Slim grunted at him from across the barn. “Yer already doin’ it wrong.”
Scout scowled at him. “Well then how’m ah SUPPOSED t’ do it?!”
“That ain’t th’ point. Ye’re supposed t’ be figurin’ it out yerself.” After a moment, Slim gave a little sigh. “But ah suppose it won’t hurt t’ give ya a little hint. What do ya suppose the purpose of th’ beads are?”
Scout looked down at the bead in his hand. It was brown, wooden, and smooth. It looked like a little wooden ball with a wide hole in it. He’d never really considered that it might be there for a reason; he had noticed that the practice sling had similar beads, one at each end, and then one on either side of the stone cup, where he would put any shot he wanted to fire, but had never really looked at them. “Ah s’pose… fer decoration?”
Slim picked a clump of dirt out of the floor and tossed it at Scout. “This’s a WEAPON, boy, not arts ‘n crafts. Think harder. Use that brain ah know ya got in there somewhere DEEP inside that thick skull ‘o yers. Why might there be beads on yer sling? What purpose could they serve?”
Scout looked down at the bead again and concentrated. He tried to picture the practice sling, or, more specifically, the ends of it. He could remember SEEING the beads; the leather strips that made up the cord went through it, then back up around it and back into the braid, making the braid thicker at each end. He could remember using that thicker part as extra grip to keep the sling from slipping out of his hand prematurely. After a few moments, a thought occurred to him, and he blurted it out. “They keep th’ sling t’gether.”
Slim snorted and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. “See? Yer not as stupid as ya act.”
Scout looked up at him, then down at his strips of leather. He carefully unwound the bit he’d already wound, then tugged them through the bead a little more. After a moment, he tugged them through a lot more, going until he could hold the end in his hand and just barely touch the bead with his thumb. After he’d done that, he carefully folded back the loose ends until they pointed back the other way, surrounding the bead, and started braiding them that way. He pulled them tight as he went, making the braid as tight as he could make it.
Once the end had been braided, he started braiding the longer pieces around the little length of cord he’d already produced, pulling it tight around the inner piece. He focused on his work, barely noticing when Slim brought him his dinner from the house. He held the braided cord with one hand and took a bite of a fluffy country style biscuit roll with his other, then set the roll back on the plate and continued working feverishly, his ears held back in concentration until he held up a length of leather cord as long as his forearm. It was tightly woven and braided, and still had a long way to go before it was complete, but he knew that it was ready for the next bead. He started to reach for the bead, but Slim grabbed the cord from his hand before he could put it on.
Slim inspected the length of cord for a few moments, testing its give and the sturdiness of its bead, before giving a satisfied nod and walking over to Scout’s straw pile. He dropped the other pieces into Scout’s box before winding the loose ends around the box and setting it on top of them.
“Hey! Ah weren’t done with that!” Scout protested, hopping to his paws and wobbling for a moment as he realized his legs were numb. He blinked out the window at the pitch black outside. Hadn’t it been daylight just a few minutes ago?
Slim grunted. “Time fer pups an’ ol’ Slim t’ be asleep. Ya can work on it some more tomorrah. B’sides, ya been sittin’ too long. Yer legs’re gonna fall off.” He gestured over toward Scout’s bed of straw. “Go on, git t’ bed.”
Scout pouted and wobbled his way over as the feeling slowly started coming back to his legs, feeling like someone was stabbing him with thousands of pins and needles as he let himself flop over into his straw pile with a grunt. “G’night, Ol’ Slim.”
Slim grunted at him and turned out the light. “G’night, pup. Maybe tomorrah, ye’ll get yer sling done up all proper-like, an’ ye’ll earn th’ right t’ come back out t’ th’ field with me again. If’n ya think ya can sit still, shut yer yap, an’ listen.” He plopped down in his straw pile and rolled over with his usual air of finality.
Scout lay awake, his vision dancing with phantom images of his hands braiding leather in the dark as he thought about the day. He wondered why Slim had chosen today of all days for him to learn to make a sling. After a long while, he rolled over and closed his eyes, ready to let sleep take him.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I do like the way this chapter is structured and think that it is great to see Scout learning to become the sheep dog he was before he moved to Babylon Gardens! I expect the rest of the story will continue to be filled with interesting new insights on what Scout learns!

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 4: Sling and Shot

Scout sat on the fencepost, dangling his toes just out of reach of the pigs, and scowled as he braided the leather. He would braid a few revolutions, pull it tight, then braid a few more revolutions, making sure that there were no gaps in the cord. When there was only enough left for him to grab in both hands and leave it poking out the ends, he paused, considering, then resumed braiding, leaving it loose instead of pulling it tight. On the other end, he had braided the end, then braided around it to seal it, but that wouldn’t work here. He had to figure out some other way to do it.
After a couple times of putting the bead on, failing to figure out how to tuck in the end, and having to pull it back off, he managed to put the bead on and feed the excess on the end down and into the middle of the braid. After that, he carefully worked the extra line through the braid itself, gradually pulling it tighter to tighten up the braid by pulling excess through the bead and into the ends, pushing it back down along the ends to work the ends further into the braid until it couldn’t get any tighter.
Scout stared at his finished slingshot for a few moments, then turned and hopped off the fence outside of the pigpen. He hesitantly swung the sling around a few times, watching to be sure it didn’t come apart, then gave it a firmer swing. It stayed together, and he grinned, his tail wagging excitedly.
He looked around for someone to show, but saw no one. Paw was out in the cow pasture, Ma was making lunch, and the farmhands were mending a fence. After a moment, Scout’s face lit up, and he grinned, looking down the path to the sheep pasture.
The pathway was less an actual path and more a long bald patch in the grass from the sheep walking back and forth every day; it wound back and forth along the fence to the cow pasture, up a hill and down another to the back forty acres of the farm, where enormous boulders spoiled the land for planting, making a bumpy but grass-covered expanse, plenty big enough for the sheep to graze happily most of the year. A river ran just past the field, making a natural place for the sheep to get water, with several artificially-shallowed areas along the way for them to be able to safely stand without risk of getting swept away.
Scout found the sheep and Slim easily enough and ran toward them. As he approached through the unkept grass, Slim suddenly turned and aimed his staff directly at Scout’s head, reaching into his bag to grab his sling. After a few moments staring at Scout, he lowered his staff and grunted, leaning against the rock. “Go home, pup. Ye ain’t earned th’ right t’ be out here with me.”
Scout huffed and stomped his paw. “But ah finished ma sling!” He held up the sling to show Slim, and Slim snatched it away, scanning the edges of the field one more time before looking down. He turned Scout’s sling in his hand, looking it over, then whipped the end so quickly it made a cracking sound. He looked it over again, tugging at the beads, then gave a satisfied nod and grunted at Scout. “Not bad. It’ll hold.”
Slim passed the sling back to Scout and grunted, turning to survey the field. Scout could see him counting, moving his mouth almost silently and pointing ever so slightly with the top of his staff as he made sure every sheep was accounted for. Once he was done, he dug into his collar, pushing his bandana aside, and pulled out a knife. It was a tiny thing, mostly handle, with a little curved blade. He held it up for Scout to see, slotting his thumb into the curve along the back of the blade, then flipped it around and passed it to Scout handle-first. “Here. Trim off th’ edges t’ make th’ cord rounded. Ya can stay if’n ya can be quiet. Don’t bleed yer fingers.”
Scout hesitantly took the knife and nodded, sitting down against the nearest rock and looking at it. He held it like Slim had, bracing his thumb against the curve on the back of the knife, then held up his sling. The leather strips he’d made the sling out of were squared, so every now and then, a corner would stick out from the braids. He started trimming off the corners, slowly twisting the leather in his fingers to go all the way around. It was slow going; the shadows slowly shifted directions as he focused on his task, carefully peeling off little slivers of leather with the knife.
Scout was knocked out of his focus by a gentle bonk on the head from Slim’s staff. He looked up at the older dog, who huffed crankily at him. “Wake up, pup. It’s time t’ head in.”
Scout blinked up at him, then turned to look at the sun, sinking low over the horizon. He stood up and brushed off the tiny strips of shaved leather out of his fur, frowning. “Ah weren’t asleep. Ya didn’t have t’ hit me.”
“Mm-hm. Sure ya weren’t, pup. Ah only been callin’ ya fer five minutes.” He turned and walked back to where the sheep were waiting, starting to count as he tapped each sheep on the side with his staff. Once he’d counted all hundred thirty-one of them, he pointed down the path with his staff. Scout trotted along behind, watching how Slim handled the flock, guiding them along the path and using the crook of his staff to gently pull any strays back into line.
Scout had never paid much attention to how Slim had actually HANDLED the flock; he’d always been much more interested in the fighting off predators and the running around, basically ignoring when Slim had tried to teach him steering and looking out. He was pretty sure he could remember MOST of it, if he really tried.
Once they got back to the sheep barn, Slim counted the sheep again, then locked the gate and hooked Scout’s arm with the crook of his staff, tugging him inside before setting his whistle and staff aside and putting out his hand. “Lemme see that sling again.”
Scout hesitantly passed it over, and Slim looked it over with a grunt of approval. He passed it back, then went over to his straw pile and snatched up his box. He dug around inside it for a few moments before he found a little bottle and a rag, plopping down and looking at Scout before patting the spot next to him to invite Scout over. Scout hesitated, then joined him, and Slim took the cap off the bottle, holding the rag to the opening and tipping it upside down for just a moment before handing the rag back over to Scout.
Scout blinked at the rag, frowning. Whatever the liquid was that Slim had put on the rag, it smelled earthy, but also oddly familiar, though he was sure he’d never smelled it before. Slim chuckled. “Rub it on yer sling, pup. It’s oil. Protects yer sling from dryin’ out and crackin’, an’ makes sure it’s good an’ strong.”
After a moment, Scout started running the rag over his sling, closing his hand around the sling with the rag between them and rubbing up and down. Wherever the oil was applied, the sling looked shiny, almost as good as Slim’s own sling. Once Scout had applied the oil to the entire length of the sling and carefully done both the inside and outside of the stone cup, he nervously held it up for Slim’s approval.
Slim took the sling and looked it over, nodding as he tugged at it, twisted and pulled and flicked it. “Ah approve. It’s a good sling. See how good ya can be when ya learn t’ pay attention t’ details?” He stood up and started walking toward the door.
Scout jumped up and chased after him. “Wait! Where’re ya goin’ with ma sling?”
Slim grunted and turned back around to look at Scout. “Ah thought ya’d want t’ test ‘er out.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

So starts the beginning of Scout's transformation from rambunctious pup who likes running around and is kind of oblivious to everything to level headed sheep herder who can count the sheep in his sleep. It will be fun to see how Slim reacts to him becoming more mature.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 5: Sheep Duty

“Tell it t’ me one more time, pup. What’re yer diff’rent shots fer?” Slim gruffly held up a brand-new leather pouch and tipped some of its contents out onto his hand, holding it out for Scout. He was standing, leaning against a rock in the sheep pasture, with Scout standing right in front of him.
Scout picked up a marble from the offered trinkets and held it up. “Th’ marbles’r fer practicin’, warnin’ shots, an’ bruisin’.” He dropped the marble into the bag.
Slim nodded his approval. “An’ th’ river rocks?”
Scout picked out a small rock from the pile and held it aloft. “Th’ river rocks’r fer if’n a warnin’ shot is ignored. They hit harder’n th’ marbles, but will still likely not cause any permanent damage t’ any predators. They’re harder t’ aim b’cause they ain’t round, so if’n ah use one ah should aim fer th’ body, ‘cause it’s a bigger target.”
“Very good. And the slag slugs?” Slim shook his hand to expose a small piece of metal, almost perfectly rounded.
Scout dropped the stone in the bag and picked up one of the pieces of slag, holding it up. “Th’ slag slugs’r fer if’n ya mean business. A hit t’ th’ head with one’a these’ll make a predator not get up, an’ a hit t’ squishy bits’ll embed themselves in th’ flesh an’ leave ‘em hurtin’. Ah should only use th’ slag balls in an extreme emergency, such as if’n a predator is comin’ after me.”
Slim watched Scout drop the metal ball back into the bag, then poured what was left in his hand back into the bag before hanging the bag by its strap over Scout’s shoulder. “Good boy. An’ yer bolas?” He pointed to the coiled rope in its little holster along the bag’s strap.
Scout grumbled a little. “Th’ bolas is used if’n a predator has one’a th’ sheep, t’ stop ‘im from gettin’ away with it.”
Slim grunted approval. “Good. If you see a predator, what do you do?”
“Slim! Ah know how t’ do th’ job!” Scout protested.
“Good, then ye’ll be able t’ answer th’ question.” Slim grunted and stood up to look around, checking that the sheep were all safe and there were no lurking predators. After a few moments, he leaned against his rock again.
Scout grumbled and put his ears back. “If ah see a predator, ah need t’ blow th’ whistle an’ get ready t’ engage ‘em in a fight. Ah should ONLY fight if’n ah have t’, an’ ah should use mah sling t’ try an’ keep th’ predator at bay until either they run off or Paw gets here with th’ gun.”
“Right. An’ mos’ important?” Slim raised an eyebrow, and Scout hesitated before answering.
“Ah should always do everythin’ ah can t’ keep th’ sheep safe. That means if a predator comes, ah should get their attention on me, an’ if a sheep falls in th’ river, ah should do everythin’ possible t’ pull ‘em out.” Scout rolled his eyes, feeling a little irritated with all the questions.
Slim grunted and held his staff forward, tapping it on the ground. “An’ what’s th’ staff fer?”
Scout looked at the staff. He’d always wanted to give it a try, but Slim had always guarded it as if his life depended on it. “Th’ crook on th’ end can be used t’ grab a sheep an’ pull ‘em out of th’ river or out of th’ way of a predator. Th’ staff itself can be used as a weapon in a fight.” He recited, remembering his lessons.
Slim gave a satisfied nod, then turned the staff sideways, holding it in both hands. He pushed it toward Scout. Scout blinked at it, and Slim thrust it toward him again. After a moment, Scout understood, and hesitantly reached his hand out to take the staff. Once he had it securely in his hand, Slim let go. The staff momentarily dipped in the air as Scout adjusted to the weight of it; it was heavier than he’d expected.
After a moment, Scout turned the staff crook-up and held it, looking up at Slim. Slim stood back and gave a nod. “Looks good on ya, pup. Why don’t you take head watch t’day? Ah’ll stay back an’ keep an eye on ya.”
Scout’s ears perked. “Ya want ME t’ take over? What if ah mess up?”
“Ah don’t doubt you will.” Slim took off his whistle and hung it around Scout’s neck. “Ah’d rather ya do it when ah’m here t’ help ya fix it, than when ah’m not here at all.”
Scout put his ears back and lifted the whistle to look at it uncertainly. “You know ah’m gonna mess up, an’ ye’re puttin’ me in charge anyway?”
Slim shrugged. “If’n ya never mess up, ye’ll never learn not to. Mistakes’r part of learnin’. Especially for thick-headed puddin’-brained pups like you.” He gestured to the field. “All yours. Ah’ll be watchin’.” He turned and disappeared behind the rock.
“Wait!” Scout turned and followed him around the rock, then frowned when he wasn’t there. Scout frowned and turned around to walk back around the rock, looking over the herd. He had been left in charge of them unexpectedly, and was suddenly unsure what to do. He thought for a moment, then decided to do what Slim would do. It took Scout a few more moments of thinking to decide that Slim would do a quick count of all the sheep.
“One, two…” He mumbled to himself, starting to count, then frowned. He couldn’t see well enough to count from here. He looked around for a moment, then turned to a rock not far away. It was a good climbing rock; he had climbed it before, while visiting Slim with Ma when he was young and just starting his training, and a few times while coming out during his training. He jogged over to the rock and scrambled up on top, standing up and leaning on the staff to catch his breath really quick before looking around.
“Whoa… ah can see fer MILES from up here!” He gasped to himself, taking in the view. After a few moments, he shook his head to clear it and looked down at the sheep, resuming his counting. “One, two, three…”
It took Scout a couple minutes and a few restarts to get the count done; he kept forgetting which sheep he’d counted and having to start over. Once he had finally counted them all and was sure they were all there, he leaned on the staff again. “How does Slim count ‘em so quick? That took ages.”
He paused for a moment, looking around, then set his sights along the edges of the field, watching for anything that might be a predator. He tried to remember everything he’d been told to do during his training: Keep an eye on the sheep, don’t let them wander too far, don’t let them fall in the river, don’t let predators near. Always stay vigilant, never doze off. He paused for a moment, thinking if there were any other bits of wisdom, and one more came to mind: Shut yer trap.
Scout paused to look around, looking for Slim. He couldn’t see him, but he could smell him; the older dog’s scent was drifting to him on the breeze. He wondered where he was hiding. Was there a little nook somewhere that Slim could sit to see what he was up to? Was he simply behind one of the nearby rocks? Scout frowned and strained his eyes, looking far and wide for any trace of the older dog, remembering to look over at the sheep every few minutes to be sure they were still okay.
After all, it was Scout’s first time in charge of watching the sheep, and he wanted to be sure there were no accidents.

[Amazee Dayzee]

There is going to be a learning curve Scout will have to overcome with guarding the sheep by himself but I don't think he will have any problems. Slim might want to test him while Scout least expects it but I don't see it being too extreme and Scout can easily prove his mettle!

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 6: Flying Solo

Scout looked up when Slim appeared at his side suddenly. Even after three weeks, he hadn’t figured out how Slim could just appear and disappear here in the pasture. Slim looked out over the flock for a few moments before speaking. “Ya been mindin’ th’ sheep on yer own what, three, four weeks now?”
Scout nodded. “Been a little over three weeks.” He turned his head at a rustle in the grass just beyond the river. After staring at the spot for a few moments, he decided it was nothing and turned his head back toward Slim.
“Ain’t made no serious mistakes. Think ah’ll head on home an’ let ya bring ‘em in yerself.” Slim grunted.
Scout gave a little startled noise and turned to look at Slim abruptly. “Jus’ like that? Ye’re gonna leave me out here on ma own?”
He gave a little grunt and started climbing down off of the rock. “Think ya can handle it. Few more weeks, an’ ya won’t even need me anymore.” He paused to look wistfully out over the pasture. “Ah’ll miss th’ view. But ah’ll be able t’ rest an’ retire. Maybe ah’ll even take a day t’ watch th’ sky.”
Scout frowned as Slim turned and started walking toward the path. “Wait! Slim, ah ain’t never brought th’ sheep in on ma own b’fore!”
Slim waved a hand dismissively over his shoulder. “Ye’ll be fine. Jus’ count ‘em b’fore ya leave, an’ count ‘em again when ya get back. Make sure none of ‘em wander off.”
Scout tapped the staff on the ground thoughtfully, holding his ears back as he watched Slim walk up the hill and out of sight over the top. Once Slim was gone, he nervously turned back toward the sheep. It was still a few hours before they were due back at the barn; they were supposed to leave the pasture when the setting sun brushed the top of the tallest tree, right on the river’s edge, as seen from Lookout Rock, a well-worn rock close to the edge of the pasture.
He stood and looked out over the sheep as the sun made its slow progress across the sky, starting to dip down from high overhead and make its way back down to its bed.
Another rustle in the grasses on the far side of the river drew Scout’s eye after a long while, and he stared at the spot. It didn’t move again, but Scout frowned, crouching on his rock and keeping his eyes on the spot. After what seemed like a long while, the same spot rustled again, and Scout’s ears flicked. There was something moving the grasses on the far side of the river, and he wasn’t sure what it was.
He slid down off his rock and started walking toward the river’s edge, narrowing his eyes at the suspicious spot. He lowered his hand to tousle the wool atop one ewe’s head as he walked, not even looking to see which one it was. He was about to call out across the river to demand whoever was hiding there show themselves, when a pitiful bleating drew his ear.
“Stuck. Help.” A young voice sounded. Scout looked down and sighed as a particularly troublesome lamb, Tommy, appeared in his vision. He stooped, lowering his staff as he dropped to one knee to help him untangle his wool from a bramble bush.
“Ah swear, Tommy, ya get stuck in this bush twice a day. This same bush. Why don’t ya jus’ steer clear of it?” He mumbled to the lamb as he broke free with a snapping of branches. The bush snapped back up to its full height, and the lamb trotted a few steps away, prancing like he hadn’t just needed Scout’s help to free himself for the hundredth time.
Scout heard a splash, and he snapped his head toward the river. There was nothing there, but he stepped closer anyway to look, peering into the water in case some careless sheep had fallen in. There was no sign of anything in the water, but there WAS something on the water’s edge: a single, massive pawprint, facing in from the river. Scout frowned and knelt to touch it; it was wet, despite the surrounding area being dry. This had JUST happened.
He snapped himself to a standing position and called out. “Ah know ye’re here! Stay away from mah sheep! Ah’m armed!”
He turned and snatched up his staff, starting to sniff the air and stomp the staff on the ground to make lots of noise. “Go on! Git outta here!”
He started forward, looking for more signs of the mystery creature. He heard rustling to his left and turned quickly, staring into a small stand of shrubs just beyond the pasture. “Ah got ya!” He jumped forward and swung the staff into the shrubs. The only thing he hit was shrub; the staff quickly got stuck. He tugged at it with a grimace, shaking the whole stand until he finally managed to reclaim it. “Stupid, stupid…” He mumbled to himself, glaring at the stand of shrubs. “So there.” He glared at it for a moment, then turned toward the flock again.
A tall, brownish-gray wall stood in his way, covered in fur and shaped like muscles. Scout’s ears went back, and then so did his head, slowly turning to look up at the wolf standing in front of him with a toothy grin. “Did ya get ‘im?” The wolf asked playfully.
Scout gave a panicked yelp and swung his staff at the wolf. He grabbed it and held it firmly in place while Scout tugged at it, trying to free it. After a few moments, he realized he wasn’t getting it back and let go, stepping back as he glanced around frantically for another weapon. The wolf stepped closer again. “Now, now, none of that, pup. I just need a couple of your sheep to feed my pack. Two or three ought to do it. Don’t be greedy.”
Scout stared up at the wolf, feeling terrified. He’d never seen one in person, at least not up close like this; he was HUGE, far bigger than Scout had expected. Scout wouldn’t be surprised to find the wolf was human-sized. It took him a moment to regain his composure, remembering that he had to defend the sheep from this massive wall of fluff.
Scout threw a punch, and the wolf just took it with a sigh. “Honestly, it’s not like YOU can stop me from doing it. I’m only asking nicely as a courtesy, I’ll be taking them either way. I’d rather not have to fight a pup.”
Scout scowled up at the wolf and moved in for a bite. “Ah’m not givin’ ya mah sheep! Now get outta here b’fore ma PAW comes with his gun!”
The wolf gave a little pained inhale through his fangs as Scout dug his teeth into his hand, then swatted at him with his other hand. “Get off of there! That HURTS!”
Scout grunted as he was knocked back a couple yards and onto the ground. Searing pain hit him in the chest, going almost all the way from his shoulder to the opposite hip. He yelped and grabbed the spot where it hurt the most. It felt wet and warm; he pulled his hand away and looked down at the shiny red liquid covering it. He looked up at the wolf, who was staring down at him with a horrified expression, then back at his hand.
“I didn’t mean to- I mean, look what you made me do! I didn’t want to hurt you! I didn’t HAVE to hurt you, you just had to let me have some of your sheep and we would have been on our way!” He stepped forward, reaching out for Scout.
Scout scrambled back and nipped at him, then stumbled to his paws again, raising his fists. He felt weak and dizzy, but he had to fight. He couldn’t let this wolf have any of his sheep.
Something hit Scout on the back of his head, and his legs gave out. He tumbled to the ground, and the world started slowly fading to black. The wolf appeared over him, with another standing right behind where he’d been, still holding the rock he’d hit Scout in the head with. They were arguing.
“What’d you do that for?! He’s just a pup!” The first growled.
The second shrugged, tossing the rock aside. “He wasn’t gonna stop fighting until he was either unconscious or dead. I just sped it up. Come on, grab a couple fat ones and let’s go. I’m hungry.”
Scout tried to pull himself off the ground, but the darkness closed in too fast, and the world went black.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I truly was on the edge of my seat when I was reading this chapter as well as going through the scenes with the wolves in them! I am not sure I can wait to see what happens next though honestly as I want to know now. XD

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 7: Stitches

Scout grunted and opened his eyes, blinking up at the white expanse above him. He didn’t know where he was or how he got there. He couldn’t remember anything from the past few hours. As his eyes struggled to focus, he desperately pulled at his memory, trying to remember what had happened. His head throbbed; he slowly raised a hand to it and rubbed at a painful lump on the back of it.
He winced, straining to remember. It slowly came back to him; he’d been out with the sheep, Slim had left him alone, Tommy had gotten stuck in a bush again…
Scout suddenly sat up. “Wolves! Wolves in th’ sheep field!” He yelped out. His chest felt tight when he moved, like someone had pinched a couple handfuls of his fur and was trying to pull it in opposite directions. His ears went back, and he looked down.
He was covered, belly to chest, in tightly-wrapped bandages. He gingerly touched them, then sucked air through his teeth when a sharp pain answered the touch.
Ma rushed in and grabbed Scout’s hand, making quiet soothing noises. “Shhh, shh, it’s okay, lay back down. Try not to move too much, you’ll break your stitches.”
Scout looked around as his eyes finally focused. “Ah’m in th’ house. Ah can’t be in th’ house, Paw don’t like it.”
“It’s okay, your Paw knows you’re here, I need you to calm down and lay back.” Ma spoke gently, carefully pressing on Scout’s shoulder to lay him back down. “It’s okay, you’re going to be okay.”
Scout hesitated, then allowed himself to be laid back down. It took him a few moments to figure out his immediate surroundings. He was laid out on a blanket, with a pillow under his head and another blanket on top of him. He appeared to be on the couch in the living room. “What happened?”
Ma stroked his head and sat on the edge of the couch next to him, careful not to sit on him. “Well, from what we’ve been able to get from the sheep, there were wolves that managed to sneak up on you. They scratched your chest all up, pretty deeply, then…” She trailed off. “Well, the good news is, you’re alive. If you hadn’t blown your whistle, it probably would have been hours before we found you out there.”
Scout put his ears back. He tried to remember- had he blown his whistle? He couldn’t remember having done so. Maybe he’d woken up for a moment after being hit in the head?
His eyes widened, and he started to sit up again. “Th’ sheep! Are they all right?”
Ma firmly laid him back down. She seemed to be considering what to tell him. He put his ears back and stared up at her. “Please, ma, ah gotta know. Are th’ sheep okay?”
She reached down and grabbed his ear between her thumb and forefinger, gently rubbing the felty-soft surfaces before answering. “Most of them have been returned safely back to the barn. They’re a little shaken up and jumpy, but they should be fine.”
He started to relax, then hesitated. “Most of ‘em?”
She stared down at him for a few moments. “We’ll discuss it when you’re feeling better. The vet had to sew you back together a few hours ago, I don’t want you getting too excited.”
Scout reached up and grabbed Ma’s wrist, turning his head to look up in her eyes. “Ma… ah gotta know.”
Ma sighed and shook her head, looking out the window for a few moments before looking back down at Scout. “There were four missing when we found you. Slim and your Paw went out into the woods to try and find them. They were hoping to rescue them before the wolves got too far. They…” She hesitated, then gave Scout’s hand a squeeze. “They found what was left of them not too long before you woke up.”
Scout put his ears back. His vision became blurry as his eyes filled with tears, and he gave an anguished wail. Ma leaned down and held him gently, careful not to put too much pressure on his stitches. “Shh, shh, I know, I know… it’s going to be okay.”
He put his arm around Ma and squeezed as hard as he could, pressing his face into her chest until her blouse had twin wet spots on it, sobbing. “Ah failed. They counted on me t’ keep ‘em safe an’ ah failed. Ah failed th’ sheep, an’ ah failed Slim, an’ ah failed you an’ Paw…” His voice wobbled to a stop, and he sniffled.
“No, no, it’s okay, nobody’s mad at you. You did what you could.” She started rocking gently, humming a lullaby. “You’re a good boy.”
He shook his head, laying his head on Ma’s shoulder and scooting up into her lap. “Ah shoulda blown ma whistle when ah saw th’ pawprints. Ah shoulda called fer help sooner.”
Ma kissed his head and kept rocking him quietly. “It’s okay, Scout. Mistakes happen. Even to your Paw. Even to me.”
Scout nodded quietly and pressed his forehead into Ma’s cheek, his tears finally slowing to a stop. After a few moments, Ma stopped rocking Scout. “Do you feel up to some visitors? Slim wanted to see you when you were awake.”
He considered for a few moments, then put his ears back and nodded, sliding off Ma’s lap and onto the couch. “Ah guess. Ah s’pose ah deserve th’ yellin’ he’s bringin’ t’ me.”
She patted his head and smiled. “Okay. I’ll go get him. You stay here and rest. I don’t want you busting open your stitches.”
He nodded and lay back on the couch, looking around as Ma stood up and walked out the front door. He’d been in the house before, but not often; Paw only allowed him in the house during the holidays and on special occasions. It was nice inside, but he wasn’t sure he’d want to live here. He wondered how long he would be stuck inside while he was healing.
After a few minutes, Ma came back in, holding the door for Slim. She patted Slim on the head and headed off toward the kitchen, leaving Slim and Scout alone. Slim walked over to the couch and sat down on the floor next to it without a word, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling.
Scout put his ears back and waited for Slim to start yelling at him, but it didn’t come. Instead, Slim reached his hand back and grabbed Scout’s hand. “How ya feelin’, pup?”
He looked down at him. “Ah… feel okay, considerin’. It hurts. A lot.”
“Ah bet.” He let go of Scout’s hand and turned to face him. “Ya gave us quite a scare. Got all scratched up.”
Scout put his ears back and looked away. “Ah… panicked. Ah saw th’ wolf an’ ah forgot t’ blow mah whistle, an’ ah couldn’t fight ‘im, an’ ah didn’t see th’ second one, an’-”
“Slow down, pup.” Slim interrupted, reaching up for Scout’s hand again. “It were yer first time without backup. Ah shoulda known th’ local wolves were watchin’. It’s okay. It were mah fault.”
“But-”
“Hush now, pup. Ah need ya t’ rest.” He gave Scout’s hand a little squeeze. “Ah need ya back out in th’ field as soon as possible.”
Scout nodded quietly and lay back, gingerly tracing the cut under his bandages with a finger. It felt long and deep. He wondered if he would be so lucky the next time.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I can feel Scout's pain just from reading through this chapter but I am glad that he is alright and will recover. Those wolves got the jump on him but when they come back next time which they will inevitably I am pretty sure that Scout will be ready and can take them down.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 8: Recovery

Scout put his ears back and did his best to hold still while Ma peeled off his bandages and gingerly tugged the gauze off his cut. He tried not to look, but ended up doing so anyway; it looked terrible, puffy and pink, with red stains in his fur around the stitches. He noticed that some of the stitches near the edges had started to dissolve, and he looked up at Ma.
Ma gave a sad smile and poured some rubbing alcohol on a clean rag and started to dab at the cut, disinfecting it before she could start putting on the fresh bandages. Scout braced himself for the familiar stinging, but it didn’t come. Rather, it did come, but it didn’t sting nearly as bad as usual. He opened one eye, then the other, and looked up at Ma again.
She gave a little smile at him. “Looks like you’re starting to close up. Another week or so, and you’ll be able to get back to work. Won’t that be fun?”
He nodded quietly and held up the roll of gauze for her. She gave a thankful nod and gently pushed him to a lying position so she could place the fresh gauze. “You’ve been going a little stir-crazy cooped up in the house, I know. You’re not used to it. You’d much rather be outside, running around.”
He nodded again and picked up the rolled-up elastic bandage, holding it up for Ma. They’d been changing his bandage every day for three weeks, so he knew the drill by now. She tucked the end under his back and unrolled it, going around his chest, under his back, and around his chest again, over and over, until she reached the end, and Scout passed her the second bandage. Once he was covered, chest to belly, in bandages, she allowed him to sit up again.
He watched her roll up the old gauze pad to be thrown away and fold the bandages to be washed and reused before speaking. “Can ah go an’ see Ol’ Slim an’ th’ sheep t’day?” Before she could answer, he added quickly. “Ah’ll be careful. Ah won’t move around too much, an’ ah won’t bust ma stitches. Ah promise.”
Ma sighed and reached over to ruffle his ears. “I suppose. But wait until they get back from the fields. I don’t want you walking all the way out there. No climbing any fences. I want your paws on the ground at all times.”
He raised his hand and nodded. “Ah promise, cross mah heart.”
She smiled and stood up. “Good. Now, what would you like for supper today?”

-----

Scout looked out the window as he heard the sheep approaching. He could see them coming up the path. His tail wagged a little and he walked to the kitchen, taking extra care not to look rushed. “Ma, th’ sheep’r back. Can ah go now?”
Ma glanced out the window, then down at him. “All right. Remember what I said. Paws on the ground, no roughhousing. I want you back in half an hour. All right?”
Scout nodded and eagerly let himself out through the kitchen door, pausing outside to breathe the fresh outside air before walking toward the sheep barn. He came in through the side door, watching the last of the sheep filing in and trying not to notice the four missing faces. Once the last of the sheep had come back through the gate, Slim closed it and sighed heavily as he walked into the barn, setting his staff in its corner and starting to take his whistle off before he spotted Scout. He paused for a moment, staring at Scout, then resumed taking his whistle off. “Yer ma know yer here?”
Scout nodded. “Ah asked. She said ah could, but ah can’t roughhouse.”
He grunted and walked across to his bed, opening his box and tucking in his slingshot and shot bag. After a moment, he turned and walked over to Scout, pressing something into his hand. “This’s yours.”
Scout looked down at his hand to see what it was. It was his slingshot bag. He flinched when he saw the dried blood soaked into the leather. “Ah… thanks.” He put his ears back and looked away.
Slim grunted at him and walked back over to his bed, nursing a faint limp, and leaned his back against the wall to guide himself down. Scout frowned. He couldn’t remember if Slim had always had that limp, or if it was new. He hefted his shot bag in his hand for a few moments, trying to think of what to say, then walked over and leaned on the wall next to Slim. “Ah… um… Ah miss ya. Ah miss comin’ out t’ work with ya. It’s pretty borin’, stayin’ in th’ house all day.”
He grunted back at him again. “Ye can come back when yer stitches’r out. Or dissolve. Whatever th’ new-fangled medical thread does.” He lifted his leg and started massaging his paw with a wince.
Scout frowned. “Ye’re hurt.”
Slim gave a dry chuckle. “No, no, not hurt, boy. Or, not injured. Just old. Mah paws ain’t as tough as they used t’ be. Get t’ hurtin’ by th’ end of th’ day.”
Scout put his ears back and stared at the ground. “Ya should be retired by now. Ah was supposed t’ have taken over as shepherd fer ya last week. If ah hadn’t let them wolves get th’ drop on me-”
Slim put his hand over Scout’s nose and mouth to stop him talking. “Stop. It happened, an’ ya can’t change it, so there’s no sense in dwellin’ on it. Ye’ll be back on yer paws in no time, an’ then ye’ll be able t’ take over fer me. Jus’ gotta finish yer trainin’.”
Scout hesitated, then nodded and looked down. “Ye’re right. Ah can’t change it. But ah can still feel bad about it.”
Slim grunted. “Ain’t nothin’ t’ feel bad over. Ah shouldn’ta left ya alone b’fore ya’d had yer first encounter. Ah knew ye’d either freeze up or try an’ fight an’ get yer tail kicked. Ah jus’ didn’t think it’d happen as soon as ah left ya. That were mah fault.”
Scout stayed quiet for a few moments, then walked over to his bed and carefully tucked his shot bag into his box. He noticed the straw had been swapped out for some fresh straw in preparation for his eventual return, and gave a little smile to himself. As gruff as Slim was, he had little ways to show that he did actually care. When he turned back around, Slim had stopped watching him and was staring straight ahead in that strange way he had, like he was watching something a million miles away.
“Ah better get back t’ th’ house. Mah don’t want me out here too long ‘cause she’s worried mah stitches’ll get infected.” He started crossing back to the door.
Slim grunted after him. “See ya in a week’r two, when ye’re all healed up an’ ready t’ work again. Hope livin’ in th’ house ain’t made ya soft. Ah wanna retire b’fore ah die.”
He paused at the door and glanced over his shoulder at him, frowning, until he saw a twinkle in Slim’s eye. He was teasing. Scout decided to tease back. “Ah dunno, th’ couch is comfier’n mah straw pile. Maybe ah’ll jus’ live in th’ house ferever.” He gave a little wave and closed the door behind him before turning to walk back up toward the house. He could see Ma waiting on the kitchen porch as he walked up toward her, and guessed he had stayed longer than he had been meant to. She didn’t seem too upset about it, however, and he waved at her. She waved back, then turned to go back inside. Scout smiled; he felt a little better about everything, now that he’d had a chance to talk to Slim about it.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Its good that Scout is starting to get back to his old self after feeling guilty about not being able to save the sheep. Its better that he starts accepting that there might be losses than for him to think he has to be 100% perfect.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 9: Scars

The vet carefully peeled off Scout’s bandages and gauze, nodding appreciatively. “You’ve been keeping up on keeping his bandages changed. That’s good. Now, let’s see here…” He moved in with his fingers, gently tugging and poking at his chest and belly. After a while, he nodded. “I want you to be careful for another week or two while the rest of the stitches dissolve, but in the meantime, I see no reason why you can’t get back to work.” He turned to Ma and started to discuss something.
Scout looked down at his bare chest. There were still a few pieces of thread sticking out here or there, but for the most part the only sign he had ever been injured was a long, thin scar that ran diagonally from shoulder to hip. It was practically covered by his fur already, and that was before he’d let the fur that had been shaved off for the stitches grow back in.
He ran a finger along the long scar. He’d known it would probably scar; from what he understood, the scratch had been deep enough that any deeper would have risked spilling his insides out. What he wasn’t prepared for was how LONG the scar was; it went all the way across his body, left to right and top to bottom. It was slightly tender to the touch; the skin of the scar felt somehow soft and tough at the same time.
After a few moments, Scout stood up. “Ma, can ah go out an’ meet Slim out in th’ field?”
Ma glanced down at Scout for a few moments, then nodded. “I don’t see why not. But you’re not going out there to WORK, got it? I don’t want you reinjuring yourself. Take it easy. No climbing things and jumping around for at least a week, okay?”
Scout nodded eagerly. “Okay, Ma.” He slid down off the couch and walked out the front door, rubbing his chest where the shorter fur made him feel oddly fuzzy to the touch. He started down the path toward the sheep pasture, enjoying the breeze in his fur now that his chest and belly weren’t covered by hot, tight bandages.
It wasn’t long before the scent of sheep teased his nose, and his ears perked up. His tail wagged, and he picked up the pace, walking into the tall grass at the edge of the pasture. He lay back and let the grass tickle his sides and back for a few moments, then sat up and grinned, sniffing to get Slim’s position. He started sneaking through the grass toward the older dog, snickering silently to himself as he thought about how he was going to sneak up on him and scare him.
Moments before he got to the older dog, however, a long length of wood dropped down and gently bonked Scout on the head. He scowled up at Slim’s staff, then stood up with a sour expression on his face. “How’d ya know ah was there?”
“Ain’t nothin’ sneak up on me, pup. Ain’t ya learned that by now?” Slim raised his staff back to his side, then slowly turned to face Scout. “Ya got yer bandages off.”
Scout nodded, glancing down. “Th’ vet took ‘em off a few minutes ago. Ah’m all healed. Exceptin’ they’re sayin’ ah could still tear open mah scar if’n ah get too rough, so ah gotta be careful.”
Slim grunted and eyed Scout over, then turned back to the flock. “Ya can be comin’ back t’ work, then.”
He nodded. “Ma don’t want me startin’ today, but th’ vet says ah can come back any time.”
“Glad t’ hear it. Ah’m ready t’ retire.” He snorted and took a few steps forward, his ears perked as he did a quick count in his head. “Tommy stuck in th’ prickle bush again.”
“Ah got it.” Scout started walking toward the usual pricker bush.
Slim hooked Scout’s arm with his staff and frowned. “Careful. Somethin’s off. Keep yer head on a swivel.”
Scout nodded and got low, resuming his movement as he approached the lamb, lowering his voice and murmuring to him. “Hey, bud. Ya got big while ah was away. Still gettin’ yerself stuck in th’ bush, huh?”
He made swift work getting the lamb’s wool out of the thorny limbs of the bush and watched him trot off happily. “Yer welcome. Again.” He snorted and turned to start back toward Slim, blinking when the older dog was no longer where he’d left him. He frowned and looked around.
“It’s you.” A voice sounded from nearby, making Scout’s blood run cold and his ears fall back. He spun around and stared up at a wolf a few feet away, standing on the edge of the river, his paws still wet from wading across. It wasn’t just any wolf; Scout recognized him as THE wolf, the one that had scratched him.
Scout opened his mouth to shout for help, but nothing came out. His paws felt like they were frozen to the ground; he could feel his heart pounding so fast it felt like it would explode. Terror had its clutches around Scout as he stared up at the wolf that had very nearly killed him. He was vaguely aware of the sound of Slim’s whistle from somewhere behind him as he watched the wolf step forward.
“The others said you probably didn’t make it. I’m glad that you’re alive. I- OW!” The wolf stumbled back a few steps as a marble bounced off his forehead hard enough to crack the glass. He looked around and shouted at Slim across the field. “All right, all right, I’m going! I’m going! Sheesh….” He turned and started to walk away, grumbling as his paws sloshed into the river.
“An’ don’t come back now, ya hear?! Ah told ya b’fore not t’ be comin’ in here! These’re OUR sheep!” Slim shouted after the wolf, jogging toward the river and inserting himself forcefully between Scout and the wolf. Once the wolf had disappeared into the trees on the other side of the river, he turned to Scout and grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, turning him this way and that to look him over. “You okay, pup? He didn’t hurt ya, did ‘e?”
After a few moments, Scout’s senses came back to him, and he stammered, shaking his head. “Oh! Uh… no, no, he didn’t touch me. I’m fine.”
Slim gave a sigh, then put his ears back and held Scout at arm’s length to look in his eyes. “But are ya OKAY?”
Scout hesitated for a few moments, then put his ears back. “Ah… Ah don’t know what happened. Ah froze up. Ah-Ah couldn’t MOVE, it was like mah paws were frozen t’ th’ ground! Mah heart was beatin’ so FAST-!”
Slim pulled Scout in for a hug. Scout gave a startled squeak, putting his ears back and staring up at Slim. He’d never hugged him before. “Ah.. uh..”
“Hush, pup. It’s okay. Ya had a bad day, an’ now ye’re jus’ a little scared. Ah’ll help ya make sure it don’t happen again.” Slim released the hug just as abruptly as he had started it. “Ah didn’t expect them wolves t’ be back so soon. Ah had hoped t’ teach ya t’ fight b’fore ya had t’ face ‘em again.”
Scout put his ears back and looked at the trees where the wolf had disappeared with a frown. “Ah think ‘e more surprised me’n scared me.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

I am sure that when the wolf's brother finds out about this that he will be back to try to make up for his brother being run off by a pup. By that time I expect Scout to know how to fight and to kick his tail.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 10: Training

Slim mumbled to himself, tapping each sheep on her side as she walked into the partitioned yard area, then closed the gate and walked in after them. Scout had to open the gate to come through, though he was tempted to just climb over like he usually did. He watched as Slim hung up his whistle and put away his shot bag and sling shot, then pointed with his staff to the yard outside the fence. “Git out there, pup.”
Scout hesitated, then went back out through the gate. He heard Slim walk through the gate behind him, pausing to close it, then meeting Scout in a fairly wide, roughly flat patch of grass. “Stand here, pup. Ah wanna talk t’ ya.”
He looked up at Slim, feeling confused, but Slim tapped his staff on the ground with a grunt. “Gonna teach ya t’ protect yerself against a bigger enemy. Can’t have ya gettin’ taken out by wolves again. Prolly won’t get lucky a second time.”
Scout put his ears back and nodded. “Yes, sir.” He gasped and ducked when Slim suddenly swung the staff at his head. It sailed close enough past his head that he felt it brush the tips of his ears. He staggered back quickly. “Hey! What was THAT fer?!”
“Lesson one, pup. Don’t let ‘im hit ya. Ain’t always gonna get warnin’ that they’re attackin’, an’ ain’t always gonna have ‘em standin’ around, gawpin’ at ya. Gotta stay on yer toes, be ready t’ move any time.” He swung the staff at Scout again, narrowly missing his belly, then stepped forward and jabbed it at Scout.
Scout sucked in his belly and dodged backward at the jab, yelping in surprise. “Hey, wait, how come ya got yer staff an’ ah ain’t got nothin’?!”
Slim snorted and kept advancing on Scout, swinging at him this way and that. “Lesson two. They ain’t always gonna fight fair. Ye’re out there ‘cause it’s yer job. They’re out there ‘cause they’re HUNGRY, an’ they think mutton sounds good. They wanna get it, an’ they’ll do anythin’ they can t’ do it.”
Scout jumped over a low swing of the staff and rolled to the ground, standing up quickly and turning toward where Slim had been a moment before. He was nowhere in sight. Before Scout could figure out what happened, the crook of the staff hooked in Scout’s collar and tugged him back into Slim’s grip. Slim’s claws poked at Scout’s throat one at a time, in quick succession, over and over. “Lesson three.” Slim’s voice sounded in Scout’s ear. “Don’t let ‘em get behind ya. If they get ya from behind, ye’re dead. They’ll claw yer throat without a thought an’ take th’ whole flock.” The staff slipped out of Scout’s collar, and Slim gave a little shove, knocking Scout to the ground.
Scout immediately turned to stand up, keeping his eyes on Slim with his ears back. Slim gave an approving grunt. “Good, ye’re listenin’. Fer once.” He stepped forward and swung at Scout again, pushing him around the grassy area for a few moments by swinging from whatever side was the opposite of where he wanted Scout to go. “Lesson four. Don’t let ‘em force ya where they want ya t’ go.” Scout found his back to the fence and the staff pointed at his chest. After a moment, it moved forward and poked him right above his scar.
Scout looked down at the staff, then back up at Slim when he raised the staff and gestured back to the area they’d started at. He frowned and walked back over, keeping his front facing Slim and his eyes on the staff. Slim gave a satisfied nod and followed him. Once they were a good distance from the fence, Slim began swinging the staff at Scout again. This time, when Slim tried to force Scout against the fence, he dove the other way, getting out of range of the staff and getting Slim between himself and the fence.
“Good! Don’t let ‘im lead ya, don’t let ‘im hit ya, an’ keep on yer toes. But ya can’t just avoid bein’ hit all day! What if he’s got a friend takin’ th’ sheep while he’s got ya distracted? What if ye’re gettin’ tired? Ya gotta end th’ fight, an’ ya gotta end it FAST.” Slim jabbed at Scout’s leg, and Scout jumped to dodge the initial jab, not noticing his blunder until Slim hooked his paw and pulled it out from under him. Scout fell on his back with a grunt and stared up at Slim as he stood over him with the staff at his throat.
Scout put his ears back, breathing hard, and stared up at Slim. After a few moments, Slim pulled back and set the staff upright next to himself, then put his hand out for Scout. Scout hesitantly reached up and took Slim’s hand. Slim pulled him to his paws and grunted. “Ya can’t jus’ defend. Ya gotta strike back. Ya gotta end th’ fight decisively as quick as possible. Ya gotta be quick an’ brutal. Use yer weight against yer opponent. Get ‘em on th’ ground, then jump on ‘em. Hit ‘em in th’ throat, belly, chest, or…” He trailed off, gently bringing the bottom of the staff up until it bumped into Scout right between the legs. “Hit ‘em where they’ll remember it.”
Scout flinched at the thought, but Slim continued on. “Jus’ jump on ‘em. It don’t gotta be anythin’ fancy. Put as much of yer weight as ya can int’ as small a spot as ya can, as hard as ya can. Even better if ya use yer claws, knees, or paws, ‘cause they’re hard an’ sharp, which’ll hurt more. Once ye’ve beat a few ‘a th’ local predators a couple times, it’ll be easier. They’ll learn ya ain’t a pushover an’ respect ya. Somewhat.”
Scout brushed a clump of grass out of his fur with a snort. “How do ah get ‘em on th’ ground? If’n they’re bigger’n me, how’m ah s’posed t’ knock ‘em over?”
Slim snorted. “Do ah gotta tell ya EVERYTHIN’? Use yer head! Trip ‘em, jump on ‘em an’ use yer weight t’ knock ‘em down, throw rocks at ‘em! Do whatever ya can!” He grunted and turned toward the barn. “That’s enough fer t’day. Don’t wanna hurt yer scar.”
Scout frowned and followed Slim. “Wait! That was only five minutes!”
Slim grunted confirmation, opening the gate and turning to stare at Scout. “Like ah said, don’t wanna reinjure ya. Ya only got yer bandages off t’day, ya still got a little bit a’ healin’ t’ do.” He walked into the sheep yard, leaving Scout to close the gate behind him. Scout arrived inside just on time to watch Slim put his staff in its usual spot and walk over to his bed.
He was quiet for a few moments, then walked over to his own bed, flopping down in the straw with a happy sigh. “Ah missed mah straw pile. Th’ couch is too soft fer me.”
Slim gave a little chuckle. “Pup, ya got a lot t’ learn. After all these years, ah’d love t’ sleep on th’ couch jus’ once. Inside, warm an’ cozy, belly full t’ burstin’... Sounds like heaven t’ me.”
Scout sat up, propping himself up on his elbows to watch the older dog for a few moments. “Is it true ye’re older’n Paw?” He tilted his head.
Slim glanced up at Scout in surprise, then returned to massaging his paws. “Naw, ah ain’t older’n yer Paw. Ah was a pup once, when yer Paw was a little sproutlin’. He prob’ly don’t remember. He weren’t much older’n Tommy over there when ah first come t’ live on this here farm. Come t’ think of it, ah bet ah were even younger’n that. Ah were about the same age you were, when you first got here. No more’n a year ‘r two. First took over watchin’ over th’ sheep about th’ same time yer Paw started goin’ t’ school. When he took over from his Paw, ah stayed on, an’ ah been here ever since.”
Scout frowned. “So you must be…” He tried to count on his fingers, then looked up. “Pretty old.”
“Ah’m EXPERIENCED, not old, pup. Now.” He gave a gentle groan and climbed back to his paws. “Ah reckon yer Ma’ll ring th’ dinner bell any second now. Let’s get goin’.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Yeah Slim is very old if he was around when Scout's father was a toddler and he started to watch the sheep when he went off to school and got married. Kind of hard not to be around for that long and only be experienced and not old. Maybe Scout should use a nicer work like elderly.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 11: Bandana

Slim stood back and watched Scout count each of the sheep in turn, tapping each on the side to keep count, just as he’d taught him. He gave a proud little grunt and followed the pup inside, watching him set the staff in its spot, hang up the whistle, and put away his shot bag and sling. Once the pup had settled in his spot, he looked up at Slim and noticed him watching. “What?”
“Nothin’. Jus’ that, ya did everythin’ all on yer own t’day. Ah didn’t have t’ help ya at all.” Slim grinned and leaned on the wall, glancing around and doing a quick count in his head to be sure everybody was there.
Scout rolled his eyes and opened his box to get out his whittling project he’d been working on. “So? Ah been trainin’ fer this job as long as ah could walk. Barrin’ any unexpected circumstances, ah can do th’ job jus’ fine.”
“So ya can.” Slim chuckled and walked over to his own bed, plopping down and reaching his hand out as one of the lambs trotted over to him for some scritches. “After yer accident, ah was worried ya’d be too nervous fer me t’ leave ya all alone out there again.”
“Gonna take more’n that t’ scare me off.” Scout gave a self-satisfied nod and leaned back, scraping some shavings onto the floor. “Ah can take care’a mahself.”
“So you can.” Slim chuckled, then looked up when Ma entered the barn. “Evenin’, Martha.”
Ma glanced around at them, then grinned. “So, how did Scout’s first full day on his own go? Everybody make it home?”
Scout’s tail wagged as he stood up. “Ah got everybody home safe an’ sound, jus’ like ah promised ah would!”
Ma clapped her hands together and clasped them. “Wonderful! I had to go out and help your Paw with the cows today, so I didn’t have time to make supper. We ordered some pizza, and it’ll be here soon. We got one for the two of you and Tom to split, okay?”
“None for me, thanks.” A voice sounded from the hayloft, and Tom’s head poked out. “The mice were having a bar mitzvah. I’m stuffed.” He gave a little wave at Ma, then disappeared back upstairs with a little belch.
Ma chuckled. “Okay, then. Just the two of you. It’ll be here in about fifteen minutes. I’ll ring the dinner bell when it’s ready, okay?”
“Okay, Ma!” Scout grinned up at her.
“Nice t’ see you, Martha.” Slim grunted. “Ah’ll come an’ get th’ pizza from ya.”
Ma ruffled Scout’s ears, then turned and left the barn. Slim watched her go for a few moments, stroking his chin thoughtfully, then turned to Scout. “So, pup… feel like ya could be th’ shepherd all on yer own from now on?”
Scout nodded excitedly, putting his whittling away in his box. “Ah can do it. Now that ya’ve taught me t’ fight, ah think ah can take care of th’ sheep just as good as you! BETTER, even!”
“Glad t’ hear it.” Slim stood up and started walking toward Scout, eyeing him up. “Stand up straight, lemme see ya. Show me yer tough face.”
Scout straightened up and puffed up his chest eagerly, holding himself with all the bravery and toughness he could muster. Slim walked around him, eyeing him over. “Hmm… ya look good, pup. Almost like a proper sheepdog. But ye’re missin’ somethin’.”
Scout’s ears perked. “Missin’ what?”
Slim slipped off his bandana and dropped it over Scout’s head, letting it settle around his neck effortlessly. He looked him over again, then gave a satisfied snort. “There. Proper sheepdog needs a bandana. Keep mine. Ah won’t be needin’ it anymore. As of tomorrah, ah’m retired, all official-like.”
Scout looked down at the bandana, adjusting it with his hands. It was tied just a little too big for him, like he had some growing to do before it could fit him properly. “Yer bandana?”
“Yers, now. Congratulations ‘r whatever. Ye’re th’ flock’s keeper now.” Slim gestured idly at the sheep milling about in the fading daylight through the windows.
Scout stepped forward and hugged Slim, his tail wagging a little. Slim tolerated it for a few moments, then grunted and pushed him back. “All right, that’s enough, pup.”
He stepped back and looked up at Slim for a few moments. “What’re ya gonna do now?”
Slim scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Don’t rightfully know. Maybe ah’ll jus’ spend th’ rest’a mah days lazin’ about on th’ farm. Maybe ah’ll see if’n one’a th’ farm stores nearby needs a store dog, guard against thieves an’ such. Ah’m too old t’ be goin’ out with th’ sheep every day. Prolly shoulda asked fer a replacement sooner’n ah did, t’ be frank with ya, pup.”
Scout snickered. “Ah thought ya said ya weren’t old, ye’re jus’ experienced.”
Slim shook his head with an amused grunt. “Naw. Pup, there comes a day when ya gotta admit, ye’re not jus’ experienced, ye’ve gone an’ gotten old when ya weren’t lookin’. Fer me, that day is t’day. Fer you? Ya got a long time left in ya.”
“Aww. Ah don’t think ye’re THAT old. Not really. Ah jus’ like t’ tease ya.” Scout nudged Slim playfully.
Slim nudged him back. “That’s sweet, pup, but ah’m almost as old as yer Paw. That’s old fer a dog t’ be.”
Ma rang the dinner bell, and Scout jumped up. “Ah’ll go get it. Ah wanna show Ma mah new bandana!” He darted out the door before Slim could say anything.
Slim walked to the window and watched him, chuckling and shaking his head. “That pup’s got a lotta heart. He’s gonna make a good sheepdog.”
Tom stuck his head down from the hayloft, watching Slim for a few moments. “So… retirement, huh?”
Slim nodded. “Ah don’t know what ah’m gonna do now ah ain’t watchin’ th’ sheep ‘r trainin’ mah replacement. Ain’t got too long left in me, ya know?”
Tom nodded. “You’ve been here as long as anybody remembers. Place won’t be the same without you.” He gave a little purr.
“Ah ain’t goin’ nowhere just yet. Ah wanna stick around a few days, make sure th’ pup gets settled in.” Slim watched Scout running back with the pizza box in his hands. “When’d he grow up? Last ah looked, he was a clumsy little pup, followin’ me around while ah was tryin’ t’ work. Now, he’s nearly grown.”
Tom chuckled. “Sneaks up on you, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. Seven years, gone in a blink.” He opened the door for Scout to come in.
Scout grinned and climbed up on a sheep’s back, setting the pizza box balanced on her flanks and opened it. “Tom, last chance at some pizza!”
Tom shook his head. “No thanks. You two enjoy. I’m gonna try to sleep off my feast.” He disappeared back up into his hayloft with a hearty grunt.

[Amazee Dayzee]

So from what it sounds like Slim is saying, he knows that he isn’t going to be living for much longer so he probably has an illness he hasn’t told Scout yet and he won’t find out about until Slim dies. I can’t imagine Tom still being alive either once Slim goes so it seems like Scout is gonna be hit with a lot of grieving when their lives finally do end.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

By sheer coincidence, this story is also ending this week. Enjoy this final chapter, and I'll see you again next week Tuesday for an experimental new story I've whipped up! Thanks for reading!

-------

Chapter 12: Wolf

A breeze rustled through the trees on the far side of the river, and Scout scrambled up on top of his rock to get a better look around. He could see sheep grazing, drinking at the shallow part of the river, chatting to one another, and calmly milling about. A closer look revealed a certain lamb down by the pricker bush once again. After a momentary examination revealed that he was, in fact, stuck, Scout rolled his eyes and slid down the rock, landing with a bounce in his step and walking over toward the pricker bushes.
“Tommy, why do ya keep gettin’ stuck in th’ pricker bush? Jus’ go around.” Scout mumbled soothingly to the lamb as he started gently but diligently untangling the lamb from the branches, carefully extracting the thorns as he went so they wouldn’t tear at him.
“But it feels good! Scratches under my wool where it’s itchy!” The lamb complained, pulling away when Scout managed to free him and trotting off.
Scout chuckled a little. “Ah’ll tell Ma ya need some flea powder, then. Now go on, git back t’ yer ma.”
He watched the lamb trot off toward one of the groups of ewes, then frowned, his ear twitching. He couldn’t hear any birds singing. Trying not to make it obvious he was aware anything was wrong, he reached for his staff and stood back up before slowly turning back toward the river, scanning the brush on the edge and the mud just inside the banks for any signs. He’d about half-turned when a large gray mass walked out of the brush and stood there.
Scout jumped back, brandishing his staff with one hand and reaching for his whistle with the other. “Stay back! Ah don’t wanna have t’ fight ya!”
The wolf threw his hands in the air and called across the river, loudly, clearly, and calmly. “Whoa, whoa, calm down! I just wanna talk! I’m alone, I promise, and I won’t cross the river!” He paused, watching Scout’s skeptical glance around, then spoke again. “I’ll tell you what, if I or any of my kin set one single toe in the river, you can blow your whistle and bring the humans running with their guns. In fact, if you even SEE any of my kin.”
Scout scowled at the wolf, eyeing him over. He kept an eye and an ear out for any signs that there were other wolves around, kept his whistle in his hand, and kept himself alert, ready to fight at any moment. He noticed that this was THE wolf, the same one that had scratched him. “What d’ya want? Ah’ll not let ya at mah sheep.”
The wolf took a step back, away from the river, then slowly lowered himself to the ground to sit on the dirt, keeping his hands where Scout could see them. Once he was down, he raised his knees and rested his elbows on them in a relaxed and non-threatening pose. Scout bristled and looked around again, expecting to see other wolves trying to sneak across upstream or downstream, but saw nothing.
The wolf spoke. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Scout glared and started to raise his whistle to his mouth, but the wolf put a hand up. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, I’m glad I didn’t kill you that day. I didn’t mean to scratch. I was trying to scare you off. I didn’t expect you to jump at me like that.”
Scout lowered the whistle again, glaring at the wolf’s eyes. He seemed sincere, no sign that he was joking or watching for something else. He gave a quick glance around anyway just in case, keeping his ears sharply peeled for the sounds of water getting disturbed.
The wolf sighed. “I know, you have no reason to trust me after we stole some of your sheep. I’m sorry about that. We don’t like stealing from humans, but sometimes we get desperate. Food’s getting scarce in the forest. There’s too many predators. But you don’t care about that. You’re only worried about you and yours, and that’s fine.” He looked at Scout, eyeing him over. “Your fur grew back. Last time I saw you, it looked like they had shaved off some of your fur. Probably to help that scratch heal. Sorry about that, again. It was an accident.”
When Scout didn’t answer, the wolf shook his head. “Bockscar wanted to leave you to die. Said that the other one was starting to get too old to make a good protector and we might get a few more easy meals before the humans could find another replacement. I blew your whistle to make sure the humans would find you.”
Scout’s eyes widened a little, but he didn’t say anything. His mind raced back to that day. He KNEW he hadn’t blown the whistle! Was this wolf telling the truth?
The wolf stood up abruptly, and Scout flinched, the whistle getting almost to his muzzle before he could stop himself. He looked around again and still saw no sign of other wolves. After a moment, the wolf spoke. “Anyway… I just wanted to make sure you were okay before we left. My pack’s moving on. We heard there was more forest up in the mountains, teeming with elk and rabbits and all kinds of other prey. We think, if we travel by night, we can make it there in a few weeks. So you won’t have to worry about US anymore. There’s still other predators here, but we’re hoping that by leaving, we’ll reduce stress on the prey population, and they’ll be able to repopulate a little bit.”
Scout growled a little. “Ah’ve given ya enough time. Git outta here, b’fore ah call ma Paw.”
The wolf threw his hands in the air. “All right, all right. I’m going. Goodbye.” He turned and walked back into the trees where he’d come from.
Scout bristled and continued to patrol up and down the water’s edge for over an hour, fully expecting to find that he’d come back and snuck across when Scout’s back had turned, but he saw no signs nor prints. Once he was convinced the wolf was really gone, he climbed back up to his rock where he could see everything once again. He counted the sheep, just to be safe, then sighed. Everybody was accounted for.
He glanced toward the forest for a moment, wondering if the wolf had meant it when he’d said he was glad that he had survived. After a long while, he took a deep, calming breath, and finally let his grip on his whistle release, letting the silver tube fall back to his chest and hang there.
Ma’s voice sounded, coming down the path. “Scout? Are you over here? How’s it going?”
Scout glanced over at Ma. “Ah’m up here, Ma.”
Ma looked around for a moment until she spotted him on top of his rock, then chuckled. “What are you doing up there, you silly pup?”
Scout shrugged. “Ah can see th’ whole flock from up here.” He glanced back down at her before resuming his vigil. “Did’ja come t’ check on me?”
Ma smiled and reached up to pat Scout’s knee, just about the only part of him that she could reach. “No. Well… a little. How’s it going? See anything coming for the sheep yet today?”
Scout hesitated. Should he tell her about the wolf? “No, it’s been all quiet t’day. How’s Slim enjoyin’ retirement?”
Ma shrugged and chuckled. “He’s doing just fine. He asked for some work, so I got him helping me out in the garden, tending to my vegetables. Nice and easy work.”
Scout smiled. “Ah’m glad. He been doin’ this job fer a long time. He’s earned the rest.”
Ma patted Scout’s knee and looked out over the sheep, little clouds floating around in a sea of green. “Yeah, I suppose he has.”

THE END

[Amazee Dayzee]

That was a really enjoyable story and I am so happy that we got to see where Scout had gotten his start as someone who took care of the sheep on their former farm! Also glad that the story didn't end with Slim's death and he is still active and working even though he is getting up there in age!

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

I gotta tell ya, Slim had himself a close shave. The original plan was for him to pass in his sleep the day he passed his bandanna down to Scout, and I changed the plan AS I WROTE the chapter.
I enjoyed writing tiny nuances into Slim's character, such as how he never actually calls Scout by his name, how he never smiles outwardly, and how he doesn't refer to Ma and Paw as "Ma an' Paw," but as "YOUR Ma an' Paw" or as "Martha and George," depending on who he's speaking to. Little things that show he's been around a bit.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I am happy that you let Slim live after all of this and let him have a peaceful and stress-free retirement which would allow him to check in on Scout from time to time. I honestly don't think any good would have come of his death being in the story and seeing Scout grieve for his mentor.