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Sebastian watched Lily and Mopple wind through the trees. His own words wove through his head until they were all he could hear:
"No one wants you. You deserve nothing."
Clouds kept shifting over the moon, light dancing with shadows beneath the trees, making the ground treacherous to unsuspecting hooves.. It was an eerie night; cold enough that Sebastian's scars ached while he followed.
"I don't have a flock. I never have."
But he wanted one. Desperately. Deep in his heart of hearts, more scarred tissue than a healthy organ, Sebastian missed his Shepherd. He wanted the flock George had promised him, the family that had been just out of reach his entire life.
He'd been born cold and alone to a dying ewe. Kept scared and angry in the circus ring when men shouted and the dogs kept snarling. He felt that cold, that anger every time his Shepherd's dearest sheep scoffed at the tiniest, most innocent lamb he'd ever seen. The winter lamb.
When the barking started through the trees, Sebastian's heart skipped, like it always did. There was no one to see him flinch or stumble as he started running. The last thing he wanted was to run towards his nightmares but he'd heard Mopple mention the flock next door and only Caleb had dogs to guard his fields.
"Faster, Lily!"
Sebastian nearly tripped over his own racing heart, hearing Mopple's cry.
"I can't. I'm not going to make it."
The impact, the whine. Sebastian could almost feel the burn of the circus lights as he put himself between Lily and the dogs. Could almost hear her over the sound of cheering battering his ears. He could barely make sense of it, lost in the fog of Caleb's field, of that first night in the ring when a boxer had torn across his nose, of that last night when George had offered a gentle hand.
Sebastian lost his footing, turned back to see Lily and Mopple safe.
"Get up," Lily begged but Sebastian was tired. He'd been tired for so long. Tired of hurting, of being alone.
"I can't," he said, body aching, new blood staining black fur. He always stayed away when it rained, letting it wash him clean so no one would notice the iron that clung to him. The heat of it always burned when he felt so cold.
"You shouldn't have come back." Lily was a warmth along his side, sorrow thick in her voice. "Why did you come back?"
"I had to. You're my flock," Sebastian confessed, eyes closing. Even if they'd never claimed him back, he'd promised George to look after them. This would have to do, because he was so very tired now.
Dimly, Sebastian heard more barking, shouting, a thunder of hooves. But he let himself rest, slumped against a strange field. Alone.
Nudge.
More insisted nudge.
A nose pressed to his.
Sebastian's eyes opened with a jerk and a groan. He flinched at the moonlight overhead, the susurrus of whispers echoing around him. The vowels were unfamiliar, rounded more than he'd ever heard except for the quietest nights in the circus when the bearded lady's voice rang with songs from her homeland. He almost smiled at the memory until an unfamiliar face leaned close.
"Awake?" the ram rumbled.
Sebastian blinked, tongue thick when he tried to speak.
"Wha– What happened?"
"Les chiens," the herd circling him murmured, nervous glances across a silent field.
"The dogs, they…" The ram huffed, looking away from the new scars opened on Sebastian's face. "You drove them away."
"Right," Sebastian groaned, rising on unsteady knees. He listed badly, would have fallen if two ewes didn't step up to brace him. "I don't– Thank you. I should…" His step forward crumpled beneath him, even an entire flock unable to keep him on his feet.
"You need rest," the ram said with a nod, speaking lowly to his flock as Sebastian stayed on his knees, gasping.
The world was tilted, trying to buck him off into a darker sleep. He clung to the sunlight with gritted teeth, the warmth of a sheep beside him soothing aching bones. When his heart had stopped racing, he tried again, knees knocking together with every step.
The ram led the herd—Sebastian included—to the furthest tiny shelter, across the field from the farmhouse. The roof had half-fallen in but the hay was mostly dry and it was quiet. The ewes helped Sebastian settle into the corner of roof and wall, nudging a bucket of stolen oats towards him.
"Eat," the ram said, accent softening as he turned back to the field. "We'll keep watch."
Swallowing around the heart in his throat, Sebastian ate. He drank. And when a tiny winter lamb curled up beside him, he slept without dreaming.
It was morning when Sebastian woke again. Old and new scars pulled and stung as he stumbled into the sunlight. Ewes grazed around the shelter, nodding at him, bleating greetings he couldn't understand. He nodded back to each one, looking for the ram.
Sebastian found him just as a clamour of barking by the farmhouse made him freeze. He stumbled backwards as if the sound could hurt him, eyes squeezed shut and ribs heaving.
"Mon frère?"
A gentle nose pressed to Sebastian's still made him flinch. It stayed there, warm and steady until he opened his eyes.
"You are safe," the ram whispered, "but you must go."
A truck door slammed, the engine a low rumble over the barking that just wouldn't stop.
"But Caleb, he—" Sebastian knew the way blood smelled when it had soaked into the dirt over and over again. The silence that sat heavy in your lungs when the screaming stopped. The way an entire flock could wail their loss without a single sound.
"Yes." The ram sighed, head drooping as the weight of grief pulled on his heart. "But he is our shepherd. There is nothing to be done. C'est la vie."
"There are better shepherds out there," Sebastian insisted, seeing his own exhaustion in the bones of this ram. "I've met them. George was one."
"But he is gone now. Your flock is vulnerable." The ram looked out over the grazing ewes, the tiny lamb chasing a butterfly as if dogs and man didn't linger in the driveway, waiting.
"They're not my..." Sebastian's heart ached; they weren't his flock but he could still hear Lily begging him to get up when he stumbled. "We're working on it," was all he said, looking towards George's pasture.
Sebastian watched Caleb drive away, the fear in him waiting for the dogs to tear through the flock like a boogeyman of teeth and claws. But there was only a dwindling silence, sunshine on his wool, and a tremble in his knees.
He joined the ram in looking over the flock, half an ear flicking towards the dogs. The tiny winter lamb bounced up to him, all legs and ears.
"Monsieur," it bleat, high but soft. "Je veux devenir grand et fort comme toi."
"She wants to grow as big and strong as you," the ram murmured, turning away as if he could trust Sebastian with the flock's tiniest lamb.
Sebastian looked down at the winter lamb, seeing himself in those wide, sparkling eyes. Before the circus had scored the wonder out of him with its rings and teeth. He nudged the lamb with his nose, smiling at her giggles as she tumbled.
"If you're to grow big and strong, then it can't be here," Sebastian said, meeting the ram's eye. They both knew what happened in the big barn; there would be no safety for the flock found there.
"Caleb is our shepherd," the ram sighed. "C'est la vie."
"You can't stay," Sebastian insisted. The flock was all around him, wool warm in the same sunlight, eating the same grass, trusting his scarred heart not to hurt them. He couldn't let them down.
"We have nowhere to go."
"I know a field and a flock who'd be happy to share," Sebastian said. Lily's heart would welcome them and she could talk a goat off a mountain, he was certain she could convince the rest.
"Je ne sais pas..." the ram hesitated.
"What is there to lose?" Heart loud in his aching head, Sebastian faced the ram, the flock's heads lifting at his raised voice. "You can't stay here. Not with Caleb. He's not a good shepherd."
A gasp went through the flock; to speak ill of one's shepherd just wasn't done.
Sebastian's ears itched, ready for the jeers to start, for the whispers. Rumours always buzzed around him like biting bugs, stinging and itching until the hurt piled up enough that he couldn't pretend to ignore it any longer.
"Caleb isn't a good shepherd," the ram agreed, feet planted firmly as he looked over his murmuring flock. "So, Sebastian, if you will lead, nous vous suivrons. We will follow."
The flock hummed but there was a lightness in their hooves as they followed Sebastian beyond the broken back gate, through the winding trees, up the hill until they reached the downed section of fence that George had never gotten to fix.
Sebastian wobbled as he stood, breathing raggedly but deeply until the spots settled from his eyes. He could hear George's flock bleating below, the murmurs of Lily's storytelling, the high soar of a question or two about the plot. He'd spent many nights on this hill, listening to George read his mysteries to them, heard Lily explaining it all over again afterwards, finding clues, and motives.
A car door slammed down below, startling Sebastian from his stupor. He nodded to the ram. "Go on," he said, "go meet the flock."
"Merci, mon frère," the ram said, nudging his shoulder. "Do not linger here alone when there is warmth below, yes? You'll catch cold."
Sebastian watched Caleb's flock flow into George's, sheep greeting each other like lost friends. He smiled at the tiny winter lamb running up to Lily, bouncing, no doubt telling a story full of rounded vowels and unfamiliar words. Ronnie and Reggie butting heads with a young ram, full of cheerful bleats and laughter.
Standing on the hill with sunlight on his back to soothe what hurt and a flock down below that maybe, just maybe, he could be a part of, Sebastian took a moment. George had always promised him a flock but he'd never dared to believe it. But down below, Lily had spotted him and screamed his name, dashing forwards with Mopple close behind..
With a glance up at the clouds shaped like nothing at all, Sebastian smiled, "Thank you, Shepherd," before turning to greet his friends.