Chapter 1
The Sheep Herder
Under the blue hour-pallid haze of the watchful midnight eye, the last of The Herd laid itself down to sleep, dreaming and whirling into distant wakefulness, dreams soft as the cherry blossoms that choked the drinking-creek every spring, as clots through the veins of a body’s blood. And as the Herder kept his watch, and the spring began to bubble out from hibernation, a Man bore himself into the grass of the furthest pasture, with legs like a newborn fawn, till he met the soft earth, with worms turning feverishly beneath the dirt, and fell into fitful sleep.
He woke to crisp air, and the silence of a complete void, vast and taut, as though smothered by the presence of heavy snow. A swaying field of pale green grass surrounded him, marred by a hollow pressed into the ground where he had lain. Bones aching, and heart thumping into his ribs, as if to burst free and run hemorrhaging, unhindered. The reason for his terror not yet visible, yet his body trembled as violently as though fixed in the gaze of an approaching predator. He did not know this place. So strong was his aversion to the scene that his eyes raced frantically, skipping across soft swell of slope, from dull sky to nearby stunted woods, searching and desperate, conjuring malevolence and gruesome death with his searching gaze, and inhaling desperately in each gasping, moaning breath. The air was stale, though the grass trembled in the presence of an invisible eddy. The man pulled himself skyward with great effort and started madly, fleeting to the nearest of the bent and shadowed trees.
As he burst through the first copse of stunted birch, the twisted roots reached out to bare him to the ground, snagging his ankles and trouser legs. He hit the ground with a puff of dirt, and the wind fled his lungs. No fowl were present to startle at his intrusion, but the soft gurgling chuckle of a nearby brook broke the stiffening former silence of the field. He rose again, knees bloodied, and trousers shorn, catching his breath in frozen puffs that left steam to hang, stale and unhindered. The scent of the place was reminiscent of that of an attic space sealed and collecting dust, as though he had ascended though a geriatric old house; underneath it all was a lingering miasma of indeterminate origin. With great effort, he ran then to the echo of the creek, and in the dim light saw not the muted color of the pool and drank thirstily. The taste caught in his throat and seeing the swirling tongues of pink and red, his eyes widened, and he spat the tinted liquid from his mouth. Disgusted and unsatisfied, he caught the scent of burning. In the distance he could discern the shape of smoke peeking from the foliage, and a small cabin bordered by a peeling white fence. The sight struck dread deep into his gut, and he clambered heavily into the underbrush to hide.
Deftly he skirted the hunkered fence, and continued to the border of a neighboring field. This too was guarded with low wire, and small tufts of hair laced the more jagged points. Through the branches that caught on him alike, a figure stood in the field, too distant to see any distinguishing features, yet the figure faced him, although still hidden, and fixed his gaze upon the Man hiding with unyielding certainty. In its right hand the figure held a long cane, curved at the top. Under its gaze the Man rose, stilted, and moved from below the seemingly hidden brush, to stand before the figure. He drew closer, unbidden now by fear or any remaining thought, eyes trained on what now he could see as the Herder. The wire drew blood from his palms, and his hair too snagged upon the fence, and as he went the sky dimmed and soft pastel shades painted the heavens, even as his blood dripped from the tips of his fingers. As he walked through knee high grass, the sleeping forms of the flock were revealed, and his eyelids crept unbidden downwards as he yearned to join them. This is his place. Distant and kindly, the Herder looked upon him, then, raised his cane, and drew it, singing through the air till it connected with the man’s jaw, who, with a whimper, crumpled beneath his feet. Underneath the pale sky, the brook chuckled gladly, and the worms turned beneath the dirt, as the Herder called his flock home.
