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While the elements dealt with the remains of the bear’s head, Larkspur had set about a new task. He had been lucky with Anathema’s cave system and its experienced herdsman, but there was no safe land for the sheep to go at night. He was worried, especially with so many ewes carrying young. Their small flock needed to grow to ensure an endless supply of food that was not fish (for he was sick of fish and craved red meat) and this was part of what drove his plan further.
The wolf had taken to using his four-legged form more often now that his mare was getting late on in her own pregnancy. This pleased him, for two horses would be more useful in the scheme of things. For now, though, he was more focused on the situation at hand. Borgata Tecolotl, with its young plant growth and pre-existing buildings, was the perfect area for any sort of pen. In his burly Optime form, Larkspur had begun moving some of the salvageable beams and sticks from the surrounding area. He had not gotten very far in this plan; a ten foot line had been laid out but nothing much more had been done. Nearby, his horse grazed contently—she was growing daily and rarely left this area.
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