Now that the sheep had gotten used to the wolf, Larkspur had set about doing what he could to learn about them. There were many ewes and the single ram in charge of the flock, but two young males that were most certainly his offspring. Larkspur lacked the capacity to study the sheep through books or writing, so he set out to observe them and track what they did. It had become an obsession of sorts, and he usually spent what free time he had doing such a thing. Salvia often joined him, and he had promised she would be allowed to work with them when she was older.
It had irritated him thoroughly to find one of the ewes had injured herself on a branch, driving the stick through her chest. One solid yank had dislodged it, but in the process the stupid sheep had panicked and begun fighting against him. Without thinking of healing the thing, he had snapped its neck cleanly. Larkspur carried the corpse back to the kitchen room, and there began the preparation to skin the hide.
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