Book 19: Hunted

Oakley

I’ve always loved an Endovan sunset. The skies here are wide and open, and in the right conditions, the clouds burst in the richest shades of gold, orange, pink, and light blue as the sun slips below the horizon. The smoky air makes everything feel slightly hazy and dream-like, even here, about a mile from the village, where the grassy grazing land is now broken up by tents and small groups working as hard as they possibly can to finish shearing hundreds of sheep. 

Aunt Janis was right when she said it was an all-hands-on-deck situation. Endova experienced quite the baby boom in terms of their herds this year, and while it’s a notable success on all fronts, it means hundreds of sheep to shear and thousands of pounds of wool to process in a matter of days. 

Naked sheep don’t fare well in the winter, that’s for sure, but by the tim