There was once number of sheep, which lived their lives happily munching
on grass, raising their young, and contemplating the meaning of their
grass-munching filled lives. It happened so whole season had been dry,
and the sheep soon noticed they had run out of grass to sustain
themselves. The young, who need to feed most often, noticed this first.
They went to their mothers, aunts, and grandmothers, and one of them
spoke out, "We need to migrate. There is not enough food to feed the
whole family. Let us go to the southern side of the hills, there will be
big fields of grass, and a river to drink from. I have seen it from high
up the hills where we like to play."

The older sheep started to discuss between themselves, of the direction
where they should go. Each one of them wanted to go a different way.
They ignored the words of the one who had come to them, trusting they
knew better. Oh, but they must have! They were older and more
experienced.

The sheep argued, and argued, claiming they were right and the others
knew not a thing. They continued to argue, until they noticed they were
weary, and tired. So much had they talked, accused each other, that they
found themselves to be out of energy, since there was not a thing to
eat, as mentioned before. The moons had started to wax, and they had no
other option but to sleep, and try to regain their strength.

When the night was dark, and the sheep were full asleep, a pack of
wolves emanated from the shadows. "Ahh! Tired and sleeping sheep. This
shall be a feast." So the wolves fed on the sheep happily, and thus the
sheep's problem was solved.


Morale of the story: Don't let wolves near your sheep, unless you like
lambmeat.

Penned by my hand on the 4th of Artificium, in the year 443 AD.