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Like all others of his kind, the Lamb was soft, in heart and appearance. His body made up of clouds of wool. His days spent frolicking in the protected pastures where the herd grazed. At night, all little lambs would cuddle next to their mothers for warmth to slumber. To have sweet dreams as the herd guardian dogs watched movement from the mountain borders, patrolling along the fences to protect the precious flock.
Such a night where all was quiet, even the cricket on the green. When the moon hid its face in darkness. When fog drifted in from the dead and rocky mountains to hang its dreary hat upon the living.
A night when innocence would be lost.
It happened as these things often do. In a flash of fang and claw. A bleeting cry of pain. Panicked wails from the flock "Wolf! Wolf! Wolf!" Hooves trampled in the enclosure of the barn. A distant howl from the guardians. Yet the damage had been done.
The little Lamb cowered in fear, his tiny hooves trembling upon the straw floor. He could not close his eyes. Could not turn away from the sight. Fresh blood. Bright red painted across the stark white of wool. One bright, golden eye of the Wolf staring back into the hues of the Lamb. Within its jaws, mighty fangs crunched down upon the throat of the Ewe that birthed the Lamb. Oh it made no difference to the Wolf. A meal... was a meal. Before her heart had even stopped, the Wolf's fangs ripped into her belly, devouring her liver in ravenous hunger.
While the lamb looked on. Unable to turn away.
"You want to be next Lamb? I suggest you run away." said the Wolf, his one eye seering deep into the small one's innocent soul as his mother's blood dripped from his maw.
The Lamb could say nothing. Unable to move. Frozen in his fear as eyes watched his mother's eyes become cold and dead.
The Wolf hardly hesitated in his feast, taking as much of his spoils as he could before the guardians returned. "Very well, Lamb. It will be easier to carry your carcass."
He licked his chops of blood and flesh. Ears folded down, bloodied fangs bared in a sharp growl. "I will make your death quick, Lamb. Stop trembling. You spoil the meat." A massive paw raised, resting upon the half devoured carcass of the ewe as the Wolf pressed to step across her. His belly would be full this night for the first time in months, since these herders and dogs had driven off the prey, killed his pack, his pups -
A half chopped ear twitched over a scarred eye, the Wolf raising his head towards the entrance. His tail flicked, his nose lifted. Without another word or regard to the Lamb, he tore off a fat hind leg, sickening crunch of bone and ripping of flesh ringing in the innocent one's ears... and with a flash of black fur against the fog... the Wolf was gone.
Half a breath passed before the Guardians burst forth into the barn. The flock cowering in another stall as the dogs sniffed out the predator within. All they found, a shaken little Lamb and a butchered Ewe. The Herder was not going to be happy with the loss. But at least the young ram-to-be was alive.
The Lamb could not stop thinking about the Wolf. Even with the stall now cleaned, the Lamb lay there, seeing the blood and bones of his mother. Anger growing inside of him. Hate overtaking the fear. The Lamb would show that Wolf! He swore it! He would not cower again helpless to fangs and claws like the others who accepted this as their lot in life. Every day the Lamb looked at the mountains, wondering... when the Wolf would return.
The waiting. It drove the little Lamb to madness and exhaustion. He could not eat nor sleep in peace. So one day... the Lamb left. Left the safe barricade of the pastures and began to follow the steep trail up the mountain to look for his enemy the Wolf.
Days he walked. Through valleys and trails, climbing steeps of the mountain. The threat of tumbling down with the rocks below an ever present danger as great as the Wolf. His tender little hooves were rubbed raw by the stiffness of the mountain. Used to green pastures and soft hay and the warmth of his mother... here, no green grew. Water was scarce to be found. The winds were biting cold. The mountain itself unforgiving and hard. Who could live here but evil like the Wolf...
Having lost count of the days, the Lamb finally stumbled upon what could only be the lair of his enemy. His wool coat dirty and itchy, his tiny feet sore. But the hate burned in his heart. Seeing many old bones scattered upon a ledge to a small cave, he knew he'd found it. The Lamb pulled his chest up and bleeted to the opening. "WOOOOOOLLLFFFF!!" His high voice carrying across the mountains.
There was silence. Save for a gust of wind. The Lamb stamped his hoof, giving another bleet. "WOLF! Come out!" The Lamb demanded. He kicked up his hind legs. He leapt around the mouth of the cave, challenging the enemy, the devourer of his mother, to show himself!
"What are you doing here, Lamb?" the voice came not from the cave, but behind the little fleece wearer. A voice he would never forget, feeling his blood run cold as he slowly turned... and looked up... up... up... A large black wolf with one eye stared back at him from the tower of stones across from the ledge.
Courage left the little Lamb like dandelion seeds to a gust of wind. Body crouched low, his instinct made him tremble in fear at the sight of the Wolf. The beast who ate his mother in front of him. "I-I-I... I-I..." the Lamb's baaing voice trembled.
"Spit it out, dinner," the Wolf growled. Idly one paw lowering to rest on a ledge as the predator began his descent. "I am impatient when hungry."
"I-I-I ca-aaaame to kill you-" the frightened Lamb baaed.
Oh how the Wolf laughed. A deep, belly howl that came from a place of deep pits and darkness. He prowled closer, his head raised in his amusement of the quivering little sheep.
The Lamb buried his head for a moment in sheepish embarrassment. Such a foolhardy adventure this was! He was going to be eaten. Just like his mother. The Wolf would tear him aoart with those shiny fangs, scratch away his soft wool with those sharp claws! Well if the Lamb was going to be dinner anyways... a moment of courage lifted his head, the little lamb baaing to his enemy - "I-I mean it! You ate my maaaaaahmaaaah! I will kill you!" The little lamb reared upon his back legs, his front little hooves cracked from the journey waving in front of him before he stomped the ground without so much as a pebble tremble. Without falter, the Lamb charged the Wolf, his head bowed like a Buck towards his leg -
The Wolf only looked down with a curious expression as the Lamb bounced off of his hard leg bone, falling flat. "You are foolish little Lamb, though you have what amounts to courage... for your kind." The Wolf sidestepped around the little Lamb, his tail giving a flick. "Go back to your pastures. To your flock. To your man. Go back and get fat off greens. Let the man sheer your wool and horns. In a few years I will come to eat you."
The Lamb watched as the Wolf, the enemy, turned his back on him. Turned his back as if the Lamb were not even a threat! Small tears trickled from his cheeks as the little lost sheep stood on shaking, weak legs. "N-No! You will face me now! You will pay! For eating my maaaaahhmaaaaah!" He bayed once more and gave a charge towards the Wolf's back leg.
Simply lifting his leg, the predator watched as the lamb charged past his aimed spot into a cragged rock. "You would kill me for being a Wolf, and doing what wolves do little lamb?" The Wolf quietly asked as the small creature wobbled back with an aching head. "Maybe I should eat you now... save me the trouble of a large ram later."
"No!" Cried the little lamb, as he suddenly curled upon the barren rock. "I don't want to be eaten! I dont want to be fat and soft! I don't want to die like maaaaaahmaaaaah!"
"But you are a Lamb. And little lambs are lovely for dinner. Soft. Juicy. Tender. Sweet-" The Wolf drooled in his growls, hivering over the frightened creature.
"I don't waaaaanna be a Lamb! I... I want to be strong! Like a Wolf!" The Lamb bayed and cried, whimpering under the cover of his hooves as he waited the jaws of the Wolf.
A bite that never came. The Wolf too stunned as he stood over the quivering baby. So small. So fragile. Much like his pups had been. ".... Stop your crying." The Wolf commanded. "Wolves do not weep and cower like sheep." He padded away from the small one, pounding upon a ledge to stand proud, amid his battle scars. "I will teach you to be a Wolf. But no longer will you be sheep, so you must not cry over one. Not even your mother. From now on. You will call me... Father."
Years passed.
With each day among the crags and crevices of the dead mountain peaks, the little Lamb grew stronger. He faltered and fell. Each bruise and battering of his body fighting against the Wolf, against his new home, making him more than any sheep ever was. Made him a Ram.
His hooves sharpened to points by the hardened rocks of the cliffs he scaled with grace as he grew. Long horns sharpened upon trees and cliffs to a point as fangs. As nimble as any Wolf, and just as deadly.
The day came where the Wolf gazed his one eye upon his prodigy. "You have come far from the little lamb you were. You are strong enough now. Do you still wish to kill me?"
The Ram looked to the Wolf. Gone were the soft eyes and wool of a little Lamb that scaled the mountain so long ago. With it too had the vengeance of his heart been swept away by the passage of time. "No. For without you, I would be a fat sheep awaiting the slaughter. An easy meal for another. You have made me strong. You are my Father. I could never kill you."
The Wolf could only hum to himself in a moment of silence, gazing down the frosted mountain. It was winter once more. "The herds have moved, Ram. I must go hunting tonight. Do not follow me. I will return by dawn with a bone for you."
But... since when did any child listen to his Father? Ram found himself ill at ease. It was not like Wolf to leave him behind, even on a hunt. Something was different. And an aching curiosity could not be stifled. Unable to sleep, Ram followed his Father's footsteps down the mountain... right to the flock he had left many years ago.
All was silent. And then it wasn't. Oh thise cries! That bleeting! The fearful bays and yowls of pain for help! The Ram was no longer a strong Ram, he was a frightened little Lamb, watching his mother be devoured by ravenous jaws and angry claws -
"NO!" The Ram stampeded forth, blood in his vision, rage and fear filling his hear, pumping his blood - his horn connected, a sickening quelch of flesh and crack of bones as his hardened horns that could fell great boulders and trees broke the body. He flung the perpetrator from his mother.... no, not his mother. Another ewe, yes, but... not his mother. The sheep looked to him in fear as his hazed vision cleared. What?
His head turned. "No... no... oh,nononono!" The Ram bounded to the side of the Wolf. Blood gushed from an open horn sized wound. "Father! Oh Father - what have I done?!"
"Peace... Ram... " the Wolf breathed in a ragged voice, blood filling his mouth. "I always... knew... I would die... by your horn..." There was a smile to the corner of his fanged maw. "I am... honored... you gave me... such a good end... and I... am proud... you have been... my son. Live..." he coughed, "live free..."
The last few gasping breaths of the Wolf choked on his blood as Ram nuzzled against his neck. "Die well... Father..."
Last breaths of life are always held by the one closest when the end has taken. It was that breath that Ram took with him. Back to the mountains. More Wolf than Sheep, he belonged there. Belonged in the place of his Father.
Yet as legends often have it, the sheep passed words of how the last Wolf was chased from the mountains, one of their own having killed the last of the predator kind. That within the mountains resided a great Ram, neither Lamb nor Wolf, who kept silent vigil over the flocks and herds. He never was seen again since that night, but many generations later, ewes still told their little ones of the Lamb that was Wolf.
Such a night where all was quiet, even the cricket on the green. When the moon hid its face in darkness. When fog drifted in from the dead and rocky mountains to hang its dreary hat upon the living.
A night when innocence would be lost.
It happened as these things often do. In a flash of fang and claw. A bleeting cry of pain. Panicked wails from the flock "Wolf! Wolf! Wolf!" Hooves trampled in the enclosure of the barn. A distant howl from the guardians. Yet the damage had been done.
The little Lamb cowered in fear, his tiny hooves trembling upon the straw floor. He could not close his eyes. Could not turn away from the sight. Fresh blood. Bright red painted across the stark white of wool. One bright, golden eye of the Wolf staring back into the hues of the Lamb. Within its jaws, mighty fangs crunched down upon the throat of the Ewe that birthed the Lamb. Oh it made no difference to the Wolf. A meal... was a meal. Before her heart had even stopped, the Wolf's fangs ripped into her belly, devouring her liver in ravenous hunger.
While the lamb looked on. Unable to turn away.
"You want to be next Lamb? I suggest you run away." said the Wolf, his one eye seering deep into the small one's innocent soul as his mother's blood dripped from his maw.
The Lamb could say nothing. Unable to move. Frozen in his fear as eyes watched his mother's eyes become cold and dead.
The Wolf hardly hesitated in his feast, taking as much of his spoils as he could before the guardians returned. "Very well, Lamb. It will be easier to carry your carcass."
He licked his chops of blood and flesh. Ears folded down, bloodied fangs bared in a sharp growl. "I will make your death quick, Lamb. Stop trembling. You spoil the meat." A massive paw raised, resting upon the half devoured carcass of the ewe as the Wolf pressed to step across her. His belly would be full this night for the first time in months, since these herders and dogs had driven off the prey, killed his pack, his pups -
A half chopped ear twitched over a scarred eye, the Wolf raising his head towards the entrance. His tail flicked, his nose lifted. Without another word or regard to the Lamb, he tore off a fat hind leg, sickening crunch of bone and ripping of flesh ringing in the innocent one's ears... and with a flash of black fur against the fog... the Wolf was gone.
Half a breath passed before the Guardians burst forth into the barn. The flock cowering in another stall as the dogs sniffed out the predator within. All they found, a shaken little Lamb and a butchered Ewe. The Herder was not going to be happy with the loss. But at least the young ram-to-be was alive.
The Lamb could not stop thinking about the Wolf. Even with the stall now cleaned, the Lamb lay there, seeing the blood and bones of his mother. Anger growing inside of him. Hate overtaking the fear. The Lamb would show that Wolf! He swore it! He would not cower again helpless to fangs and claws like the others who accepted this as their lot in life. Every day the Lamb looked at the mountains, wondering... when the Wolf would return.
The waiting. It drove the little Lamb to madness and exhaustion. He could not eat nor sleep in peace. So one day... the Lamb left. Left the safe barricade of the pastures and began to follow the steep trail up the mountain to look for his enemy the Wolf.
Days he walked. Through valleys and trails, climbing steeps of the mountain. The threat of tumbling down with the rocks below an ever present danger as great as the Wolf. His tender little hooves were rubbed raw by the stiffness of the mountain. Used to green pastures and soft hay and the warmth of his mother... here, no green grew. Water was scarce to be found. The winds were biting cold. The mountain itself unforgiving and hard. Who could live here but evil like the Wolf...
Having lost count of the days, the Lamb finally stumbled upon what could only be the lair of his enemy. His wool coat dirty and itchy, his tiny feet sore. But the hate burned in his heart. Seeing many old bones scattered upon a ledge to a small cave, he knew he'd found it. The Lamb pulled his chest up and bleeted to the opening. "WOOOOOOLLLFFFF!!" His high voice carrying across the mountains.
There was silence. Save for a gust of wind. The Lamb stamped his hoof, giving another bleet. "WOLF! Come out!" The Lamb demanded. He kicked up his hind legs. He leapt around the mouth of the cave, challenging the enemy, the devourer of his mother, to show himself!
"What are you doing here, Lamb?" the voice came not from the cave, but behind the little fleece wearer. A voice he would never forget, feeling his blood run cold as he slowly turned... and looked up... up... up... A large black wolf with one eye stared back at him from the tower of stones across from the ledge.
Courage left the little Lamb like dandelion seeds to a gust of wind. Body crouched low, his instinct made him tremble in fear at the sight of the Wolf. The beast who ate his mother in front of him. "I-I-I... I-I..." the Lamb's baaing voice trembled.
"Spit it out, dinner," the Wolf growled. Idly one paw lowering to rest on a ledge as the predator began his descent. "I am impatient when hungry."
"I-I-I ca-aaaame to kill you-" the frightened Lamb baaed.
Oh how the Wolf laughed. A deep, belly howl that came from a place of deep pits and darkness. He prowled closer, his head raised in his amusement of the quivering little sheep.
The Lamb buried his head for a moment in sheepish embarrassment. Such a foolhardy adventure this was! He was going to be eaten. Just like his mother. The Wolf would tear him aoart with those shiny fangs, scratch away his soft wool with those sharp claws! Well if the Lamb was going to be dinner anyways... a moment of courage lifted his head, the little lamb baaing to his enemy - "I-I mean it! You ate my maaaaaahmaaaah! I will kill you!" The little lamb reared upon his back legs, his front little hooves cracked from the journey waving in front of him before he stomped the ground without so much as a pebble tremble. Without falter, the Lamb charged the Wolf, his head bowed like a Buck towards his leg -
The Wolf only looked down with a curious expression as the Lamb bounced off of his hard leg bone, falling flat. "You are foolish little Lamb, though you have what amounts to courage... for your kind." The Wolf sidestepped around the little Lamb, his tail giving a flick. "Go back to your pastures. To your flock. To your man. Go back and get fat off greens. Let the man sheer your wool and horns. In a few years I will come to eat you."
The Lamb watched as the Wolf, the enemy, turned his back on him. Turned his back as if the Lamb were not even a threat! Small tears trickled from his cheeks as the little lost sheep stood on shaking, weak legs. "N-No! You will face me now! You will pay! For eating my maaaaahhmaaaaah!" He bayed once more and gave a charge towards the Wolf's back leg.
Simply lifting his leg, the predator watched as the lamb charged past his aimed spot into a cragged rock. "You would kill me for being a Wolf, and doing what wolves do little lamb?" The Wolf quietly asked as the small creature wobbled back with an aching head. "Maybe I should eat you now... save me the trouble of a large ram later."
"No!" Cried the little lamb, as he suddenly curled upon the barren rock. "I don't want to be eaten! I dont want to be fat and soft! I don't want to die like maaaaaahmaaaaah!"
"But you are a Lamb. And little lambs are lovely for dinner. Soft. Juicy. Tender. Sweet-" The Wolf drooled in his growls, hivering over the frightened creature.
"I don't waaaaanna be a Lamb! I... I want to be strong! Like a Wolf!" The Lamb bayed and cried, whimpering under the cover of his hooves as he waited the jaws of the Wolf.
A bite that never came. The Wolf too stunned as he stood over the quivering baby. So small. So fragile. Much like his pups had been. ".... Stop your crying." The Wolf commanded. "Wolves do not weep and cower like sheep." He padded away from the small one, pounding upon a ledge to stand proud, amid his battle scars. "I will teach you to be a Wolf. But no longer will you be sheep, so you must not cry over one. Not even your mother. From now on. You will call me... Father."
Years passed.
With each day among the crags and crevices of the dead mountain peaks, the little Lamb grew stronger. He faltered and fell. Each bruise and battering of his body fighting against the Wolf, against his new home, making him more than any sheep ever was. Made him a Ram.
His hooves sharpened to points by the hardened rocks of the cliffs he scaled with grace as he grew. Long horns sharpened upon trees and cliffs to a point as fangs. As nimble as any Wolf, and just as deadly.
The day came where the Wolf gazed his one eye upon his prodigy. "You have come far from the little lamb you were. You are strong enough now. Do you still wish to kill me?"
The Ram looked to the Wolf. Gone were the soft eyes and wool of a little Lamb that scaled the mountain so long ago. With it too had the vengeance of his heart been swept away by the passage of time. "No. For without you, I would be a fat sheep awaiting the slaughter. An easy meal for another. You have made me strong. You are my Father. I could never kill you."
The Wolf could only hum to himself in a moment of silence, gazing down the frosted mountain. It was winter once more. "The herds have moved, Ram. I must go hunting tonight. Do not follow me. I will return by dawn with a bone for you."
But... since when did any child listen to his Father? Ram found himself ill at ease. It was not like Wolf to leave him behind, even on a hunt. Something was different. And an aching curiosity could not be stifled. Unable to sleep, Ram followed his Father's footsteps down the mountain... right to the flock he had left many years ago.
All was silent. And then it wasn't. Oh thise cries! That bleeting! The fearful bays and yowls of pain for help! The Ram was no longer a strong Ram, he was a frightened little Lamb, watching his mother be devoured by ravenous jaws and angry claws -
"NO!" The Ram stampeded forth, blood in his vision, rage and fear filling his hear, pumping his blood - his horn connected, a sickening quelch of flesh and crack of bones as his hardened horns that could fell great boulders and trees broke the body. He flung the perpetrator from his mother.... no, not his mother. Another ewe, yes, but... not his mother. The sheep looked to him in fear as his hazed vision cleared. What?
His head turned. "No... no... oh,nononono!" The Ram bounded to the side of the Wolf. Blood gushed from an open horn sized wound. "Father! Oh Father - what have I done?!"
"Peace... Ram... " the Wolf breathed in a ragged voice, blood filling his mouth. "I always... knew... I would die... by your horn..." There was a smile to the corner of his fanged maw. "I am... honored... you gave me... such a good end... and I... am proud... you have been... my son. Live..." he coughed, "live free..."
The last few gasping breaths of the Wolf choked on his blood as Ram nuzzled against his neck. "Die well... Father..."
Last breaths of life are always held by the one closest when the end has taken. It was that breath that Ram took with him. Back to the mountains. More Wolf than Sheep, he belonged there. Belonged in the place of his Father.
Yet as legends often have it, the sheep passed words of how the last Wolf was chased from the mountains, one of their own having killed the last of the predator kind. That within the mountains resided a great Ram, neither Lamb nor Wolf, who kept silent vigil over the flocks and herds. He never was seen again since that night, but many generations later, ewes still told their little ones of the Lamb that was Wolf.
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