Roy

Flexing his writing hand he used the other hand to sand the page. The 4th generation of his sheep stock had been updated. Nothing that would change the land. But why stop trying to cross the finer wool of Jhelom stock with the thicker coats of Yewish stock? It had been well over a decade so no reason to stop now. The leaves rustled and the hint of a breeze ghosted across the table he was at. The man was in his 30’s. Not even he knew exactly were in them. Nor did the inaccuracy bother him in the slightest. It would not matter if it was tomorrow or tens of thousands of tomorrow’s eventually he would pass from this life and have to face his Forbearers. Hopefully they will not be ashamed of him when that comes to pass.

Nell was removing that same ewe, Tilly, from a thicket. It seems the older they get the more unwise sheep got. Its was like they actively unlearned past experiences. A smile ticked about his face at the chain of thought. Of coarse maybe if she kept the little fence in better repair she would not be wrestling her charges as often. Such concerns and muses how litter Goober’s days. It has been such for the last handful of years. He returned here to see to his flocks breeding 6 years ago and never left. The house is more then a hut now. Proper fields. A palisade across the point of land he shared with a couple other house holds. The palisade served more to keep the sheep in then as a real wall though it would serve well enough for tat if it had to. The palisade also and make it’s a little more difficult to others to “barrow” the sheep. That to had decreased as the local smith, Sledge, spoke out about it and they realized being able to have some of the wool grow here meant more money in peoples pockets. The more likely a ship would put in for trade or repairs.

The town streets have started to be busier as well. Goober frowned not sure how he liked that. The towns quiet & solitude had become treasured. In no small part it helped hem deal with the horrors he lived through when the Ophidian’s invaded. He was almost 20 then. A Squire , some murmured a knight in training, and he had answered the call. Men died, citied fell and his decisions had cost people their lives and resulted in showing little, or more accurately nothing, positive. For years there was little to no calm inside him. Those days had finally, for the most part, past.

The excited, echoing, base heavy trilling told him True Hart had found the compost pile unblocked again. What is it with swamp dragons and things that reek? Hugh forgot to close the gate he gets to clean the True Hart. Sometimes being in charge has its advantages. Hugh would get to wrestling a soapy, near 1 ton, hyper 3 year old swampy while I head to harbor. The tide will be going out soon with the Fair Winds upon it. My yearly report Knights and Duke’s office with them - If I get out of this chair. With that Goober grabbed the oil clothed sealed by wax with a wading crane in front of a cross and headed to the harbor. As he cleared the door he yelled ‘ Hugh!, Hugh I need to see you “