Sheep Stories: A Lion’s Roar A LV IN B R IA N S. L E G A RI O
“The dew soaked, green grass is truly a silent blessing, innih?” Preston murmured as he happily snacked on the juicy grass. His short curly wool of grey bounced happily to the rhythm of his munch. “That it is, bruv. That it is,” Humpdy supplemented. “Even the new lads are having a good go at it,” Preston said, pointing his nose at the newly arrived sheep venturing out into the pasture. “Haaaaa. What did we ever do to des-” Just before Humpdy could finish his words, the long and stout, brown wooled sheep was interrupted by a deafening roar. A lion, almost the size of a destrier, appeared suddenly out of thin air in the vast expanse of their pasture. The beast was a magnificent ripple of yellows and browns from nose to tail. He had a long, black, thick main that went all the way down to his chest to compliment his already massive stature. His claws, twirled and twisted, were as sharp as daggers—his fangs, even sharper. “Bloody hell, mate. There he is again,” Humpdy croaked, as he continued grazing on grass, unfazed by the sudden appearance of the lion on the hill. “Somebody should tell that pussy to bugger off, eh?” Humpdy sneered. “OY MATE,” he bellowed. If the lion didn’t notice him then, he had his undivided attention now. He looked upon him with yellow eyes filled with malice. He gave another bellowing roar and looking as though he was poised to pounce. “BUGGER OFF, EH?” Humpdy shouted, forming a stance of his own, albeit awkwardly. “NOT EVEN ON YOUR BEST DAY COULD YOU TAKE ME ON, BRUV.” “Leave ‘em be, bruv,” Preston urged, his grazing uninterrupted. 24
FICTION
