Qeya River Clubhouse

He salivated as he waited, breaths coming in short puffs. The tip of his tail slithered softly behind him with each great crack of the ram’s horns. He watched with narrowing eyes as the young lambs bounced from one rock to the next, throwing their heads back and showing the whites of their eyes as they leapt- so nimble that they could afford to be comical as well. 

His ear flicked as Sun Eater approached, accompanying him on the hillside. Now, he would be put to the test; now, he would shed blood alongside the man who had shed-

don’t think about it.

His panting ceased. He licked the trail of saliva from his lips, and his mouth suddenly became dry. The idea was fleeting- but the hungry flame at a match’s head, it was snuffed out before it could spread. Still, the matchbox smell lingered, potent and alluring. 

He would tuck it away for another day, turn it into a fantasy that might never become reality. 

He clicked his teeth together as a trio of lambs strayed further downhill, away from the ewes. He made gestures with his chin, and began to sneak forward. 

He would gain as much ground as he could, quietly- before breaking into a run that would spook the small herd into action.