Creative Practice Day 25

Ethael the shepherd walked through the dark forest in search of his lost sheep. It was young, just a yearling, and had escaped the watchful eyes of its mother and the shepherd. The forest wept with the wind in the treeboughs, waving in reverie of the thunderhead rolling over the craggy mountains.

"Which of you is lost, hairless one?" a whisper of a voice echoed out of the deep green shadows of spruce. The shepherd whipped around holding his staff out between himself and the voice, seeing nothing but two dimly glowing orbs in the dark.

"Who is there?" A shaky voice left the panicking shepherd. Two fern-like appendages emerged into the light first, soft, black, and feathery. Long, fine fuzz covered the figure who belonged to the antannae, obscuring every feature except the two orbular and still glowing eyes. Four clawed arms carefully and gently bore a sleeping yearling sheep as easily as one would hold a loaf of bread. Only now did Ethael see that this creature stood nearly 7 feet tall.

"I do not have a name in your tongue. Call me whatever makes you less afraid of me." the whisper seemed not to come from the creature but from the air itself around the shepherd. "Here, young one. Take your beast back to its birther" He lay the sheep into the arms of the shepherd.

"Th-thank you, uhh, Mr. Moth." One of Mr. Moth's antennae twitched, maybe in amusement.