Baw Baw Black SheepGamzee climbed the small hill, following the sounds of grass being chewed and soft baws. He was silent, his ears rotating and taking in every sound. He could hear a butterfly buzzing by his face, and he gnashed at it until it flew away. He could hear the babbling brook that snaked its way through the pasture. He could hear the lambs below.Baw Baw Black Sheep2 years ago in Short Stories
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And he could smell them- practically, he thought, taste them.
Gamzee was at the top of the grassy knoll, looking down at the pasture. There was a small heard of sheep, all young. Gamzee had listened to them all week from the woods, listened to the cute and helpless sounds they made as they played and ate. They must have stopped weaning off their mothers and the shepherd, Dave (whom Gamzee knew well from many quarries), was supposed to be supervising them and making sure a certain big bad wolf wouldn't snatch one of the little boogers. Stupid humans. Gamzee thought that maybe it was time he stopped by and greeted one of the little tykes.