A BLACK SHEEP

He watched.

From the top of the hill…

His steely gaze scanned the land for wolves whilst his sheep grazed. He was their protector, their guide, their leader.

He was the shepherd.

His skin was like leather from being scorched in the sun. His hair was course from being gale force blown in the wind. His legs were as strong as tree trunks from walking miles in torrential rain. His tolerance to pain was higher than your average man after years of potent snake bites, vicious wolf attacks and unprovoked fights with men trying to steal his sheep. The shepherd was a good man, yes…