Qeya River Clover leaves and dandelions

”Huh,” He was impressed. ”You’re a world traveller then, huh?” He commented, his brightened gaze curious to know more. ”I haven’t seen real desert,” He said, musing momentarily on the shrubby, rolling hills of interior British Columbia. 

His head tilted when he was asked of plains, and he gave her a toothy grin. ”Sheep.” He said. ”Hundreds and hundreds of ‘em. An’ they’re stuck inside these big fields lines with hard, thorny brush that they can’t seem to jump over.” He said. Not too high for him, however. 

His grin faded lightly, and his ear tips lopped- a sign of guilt. ”Learned my lesson though. Those sheep belong to someone and that someone has a stick that can spit pain faster than a shooting star.”