The Thing closed in quickly. It was tall and wide, its expanse nearly the width of their paddock. As it glided over the pastures, a black membrane on its top and sides billowed in the wind. If it weren’t for its four great legs, the sheep would have thought it to be a phantom levetating, but this phantom creaked, a sound like that of aging joints. It had no mouth, but it swallowed the earth beneath it in darkness.
It drew nearer.
The sheep retreated to the far side of their paddock, pressing together in a wooly mass, vainly hoping it would pass them by. Their hopes were dashed when it reached the fence, and the fence yielded to it. Only a small slope rose between them and it.
The sheep pressed closer together, their breathing accelerating, heartbeats quickening, bodies tensing. As it ascended the hill, they braced themselves to breach the electrified netting that contained them. The walls that were once their fortress had suddenly become their prison, a cage to ease the hunting of this predator. They knew well what the breach would cost them, each having previously experienced the 12,000 volt snap to the nose that smites the would-be trespasser. But that was a known pain. What confronted them was unknown, and the unknown terrified them more than the known.
It crested the hill and stopped. Apart from the furling of its membrane, it made no movements and no sounds rose from its great frame. It simply stood there.
The sheep stiffened though some still managed to pull up mouthfuls of prickly lettuce, their favorite forb, even if it was to be their last meal. Surely, at any moment, like a great cat, the thing would pounce and then it would be every sheep for itself in their desperate flight for their lives.
But the thing remained motionless.
The impasse proceeded, the minutes crawling by, and still nothing happened. Gradually, more of the sheep began to eat what was immediately beneath them, never taking their eyes off the intruder. It wasn’t long, however, before their food supply was exhausted. Then there was the heat. The sun bore down on them mercilessly and they began to pant.
It was then they realized the true terror of their situation.
Water.
The thing was between the trough and them. That was why it hadn’t attacked. It didn’t have to come to them. They would have to go to it.
The standoff continued. The panting intensified. The dread deepened.
A narrow path lay between the thing and the fence. It was wide enough for the sheep to file by without touching the intruder but narrow enough to leave them vulnerable.
An hour passed and then another. It was enough. There was no point in waiting longer. But who would go first?
All eyes turned to Two, who despite her name, always insisted on being the first. Today, however, when it mattered most, she remained as frozen as the others.
It was Big Mama who stepped forward, the others falling in behind her. They scampered forward as silently as 30 ewes with their lambs can be, keeping wary eyes for any hint of hostility.
As the first half of the flock made it through unscathed, the second half became bolder and rushed for the water. The resulting bulge of bodies bumped an unfortunate lamb, Witless, out of the flock, hurling him directly into the bowels of the creature. Darkness enveloped him, but instead of terror his first feeling was relief. With the darkness came coolness. Here the sun had lost its power, and as his eyes adjusted, he saw that it wasn’t as dark as he had thought. It was actually refreshing.
His dry mouth reminded him he still needed water. By this time the others had had their fill and resumed their vigilant grazing. The moment Witless stepped out from the shade, the sun’s rays burned into his black wool. He quenched his thirst and pondered his situation.
Was this newcomer a predator? It hadn’t harmed him, though it had ample opportunity. And the shade it had provided was irresistable.
He made up his mind. This time he trotted resolutely towards the structure and was again engulfed in its welcoming coolness.
A few moments later, he was joined by another lamb and then another until all the lambs were gathered in the shade. The mothers came last. Remarkably, the entire flock fit inside, and they all eagerly accepted their new shelter, the BFS Oasis. Summer had just gotten a whole lot better!
