The skydome was clear as an open sea. No clouds were crowning the mountaintops and the green wide valley at their base was lush in the bright light of the sun. One could hear the rustle of leaves and the tall green grass as the wind whistled through them. It was atop a jutting rock that Vilmott was sitting, cutting at a branch with a simple knife.. He heeded the grazing animals surrounding him not so much, he was at peace for once in a long while again. At times like these it were only a few things that dared to leave their dark caverns so he knew from a lifetime spent in these parts.
Lambs were running and playing with one another between the older beasts, there had been plenty of them this spring. It seemed that new life was flowing in all things living, slowly wakening from their hibernation. Another piece of bark was peeled off from the wood and dropped near the large man's feet on a pile of splintered curls. Vilmott's nostrils spread and he filled his lungs with the fresh air of his homeland. A cough escaped him and he grabbed a flask made for his size, crafted from a wolf's thick hide it was. He set his mouth onto it after letting the cork go and his eyes shut horrified at the bitter taste... He was already forgetting the illness that had wracked his body last winter, too swiftly perhaps. His spirit had as usual healed faster than the pace his body did, resulting in some remaining cramps in his muscles and ache in his throat. Anyways. His tongue rolled out with disgust while the flask went back to his belt..
"What are you smiling at?", he grumbled lowly to one of the lambs that had been staring at him. Less than a few months old, it did not know fully what it was looking at. Only the scent of the large man was somewhat familiar. In the light he seemed different than in the dark though,.. as did all things perhaps. It bleated and swung it's tail before coming closer. He scooped it up with a rough hand and kept it on his lap.. One leg was enough it seemed to balance on. It's wool was dark, but for the white strips near it's hooves, "Ah I remember you. Whitesock.", he laid a hand on it's head. The weight was too much and it bent through it's legs, it bleated once again. "Behave.", the man said and then lowered it in the grass once more.. The sun was reaching up high now, bright light was reflected from the river. Splitting the valley in half by a golden stream. The motion of the waters could be seen upon the mountainous walls, even from this distance. It was calming.
Vilmott grunted as he cut his finger by accident! He could be clumsy when his mind wandered. It was while sucking on his thumb that he tossed the remnant of wood away. He now recalled other affairs than herding with the metallic taste of blood upon his tongue. Far away in the distance he saw it. An enormous tower of solid rock. He knew it for what it was. Who dwelled there. The (often unwanted) responsibilities he had. Suddenly he felt as tired as he ever had and a weight that the winter had lifted from his shoulders had now been placed back. All because of the single sight.. It made him set his teeth on eachother, it made his nostrils flare slightly and something deep within his eyes stirred... He heard the bleating of Whitesock.. or no wait, it was the mother. They did sound a bit alike. The young sheep was the only one that dared make a sound out of the entire herd. He noticed all the eyes were set upon him. The lambs cowering by their parents, but even the elders didn't dare to move a nerve... He did not remember when he had moved from the rock with his knife held as if to strike something. "Hrmmpff..", he coughed awkwardly in his fist and tucked the knife neatly in it's sheathe. "We move!", he uttered loudly and began to pace towards the stone structure in the distance. The herd eased down again and following obediently.
Still a few of the animals seemed to share glances that revealed their fearful thoughts when the man was not looking.
