One sheep suddenly ran and hit me from behind. It didn’t hurt much, but gave me a proper jump scare. “What’s his deal?” I muttered, confused.

  Sheph chuckled softly, a low rumble that felt like it came from the earth itself. “They challenge you like that. Makes themselves feel good,” he said.

  I frowned. Makes themselves feel good? What does that even mean?

  He sat down, pointing at the staff I was still holding. “Why don’t you grab a sheep with that?”

  “How?” I asked, uncertain.

  “Use your imagination,” Sheph replied, calm as ever.

  I blinked. Use my imagination? Is he my teacher… or my rival?

  “I’m not exactly familiar with these things,” I said, a little sharply.

  He stood, walked over to me and took the staff. In one smooth motion, he hooked it around a sheep’s neck, pulled it close, and guided it upright, making it stand like a human.

  I froze. “Isn’t that going to hurt them?” The words slipped out before I could stop myself.

  “Nah,” he said, unhooking the staff and letting the sheep go. “You use the crook like this. It’s meant to be used this way.”

  I watched carefully. My stomach tightened with a mixture of awe and nervousness. Interesting… very interesting.

  Sheph started walking back toward the banyan and shouted over his shoulder, “Keep failing. I’ll watch the show from here.”

  He reached the tree, sat down beside it, and plucked a Kans grass stem, biting down on it like some calm countryside philosopher. He always gave off that weird vibe of part being melancholic and part having main character syndrome.

  “Scared to move?” Sheph called out again, his words muffled slightly as he chewed the Kans grass.

  Damn these old fools. Always treating me like I’m some clueless idiot.

  Swallowing the irritation, I took a deep breath and tried to gather up the sheep again. I started running toward them one by one. . They scattered instantly, sprinting in every direction. All of them.

  I stopped dead in my tracks, feeling like an idiot. Okay, running clearly doesn’t work. So I tried going slow this time, moving carefully, trying to seem non-threatening. Didn’t help either. They just ignored me completely, going about their own thing like I didn’t even exist.

  “Act like you don’t care about them!” Sheph’s voice carried across the field. He was still lounging by the tree, the picture of comfort.

  Act like I don’t care? What are they, a bunch of kids trying to act tough?

  I did as I was told. Tried not to care. Tried to be rough.

  Gripping the crook (that’s what Sheph called the staff), I went for it. I grabbed a few by their necks and with a bit of force, guided them where I wanted. It actually worked… kind of. One by one, I managed to drag them to the destination like a tired parent pulling a stubborn kid home.

  But the moment I let go, they bolted. Every single one.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Great. This isn’t working.

  “Oi, Sheph! A little help would be great!” I shouted across the field.

  “Act like you don’t care!” he yelled back without moving an inch.

  “…And walk toward the direction you want to go, like you can’t even see them!” he added, his voice echoing lazily through the air.

  Oh. Ohhhhh. Raaaaiight. Act like I don’t care.

  Okay. I think I get it now.

  Right, let’s pick a direction… maybe toward those distant borders. Yeah, that’ll do.

  I took a breath. Tried to steady myself. In my head, I kept repeating, Don’t care. Don’t care. Don’t care.

  Ten seconds later, I started walking toward the border, eyes forward, heart steady.

  “Also look at them and say, ‘Monu, Chonu, Tonu, tsk tsk tsk,’ or something like that!” Sheph’s voice broke through my calm like a rock through glass.

  I froze mid-step. “So I have to care about them while not caring about them?” I yelled back, irritated.

  “A plus for understanding,” Sheph replied, smug as ever.

  I hate him already. What’s with him and his talking tone?

  I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. This time, I decided to act like one of those high-ranking government officers. Strict and composed, but I removed the heartlessness. Straightening my back and keeping my expression neutral, I started walking towards the direction of the borders.

  While walking, I began calling out to the sheep with random names that popped into my head thanks to that old fool. “Oi, Monu. Chonu. Tonu…. Come here!” My voice carried across the field with a steady but distant tone, like I didn’t actually expect them to listen.

  Then, behind me, I heard a few soft s. I turned my head slightly and saw them. Some of the sheep began following. Slowly. Hesitantly.

  It worked!

  Excited, I stopped and turned fully to look at them, only for the moment to collapse. The sheep froze, then scattered again in every direction.

  “…Great. Should’ve seen that coming,” I muttered under my breath, feeling the secondhand embarrassment sink in.

  Well, it seemed to work at least if I didn’t break character. That’s a plus. I glanced at Sheph, but he was just resting under the banyan and watching me suffer.

  “Okay, this time is it! I’m going to do it right now,” I exclaimed, gripping the crook tightly. The basics seemed to work, so I’d just keep at it until they followed.

  I calmed myself again, focused on the direction, and decided to go back to the banyan I had left behind on the previous turn. Having my breathing steady and with a bit of newfound confidence, I marched off.

  I called the sheep by weird names again and lightly pointed the crook toward the destination, signaling the way to march. To my amusement, some of the sheep started to follow. Not many, but a few is better than nothing.

  I kept walking, and occasionally a sheep sprinted forward, eager to be first in line. They act like kids with temper.

  We finally reached the destination. Up ahead, the banyan stood with Sheph resting beneath it. At first, only about six sheep had followed me. But as we walked, more joined, until about twenty were trailing behind. It wasn’t much, but it was a success worth counting.

  Four times the current number of sheep were still scattered around. I guess earning their trust wasn’t going to be easy. I wanted to shout, But I didn’t even know how many days I’d be stuck here. So maybe not ”, as it sounds like I have the time of a lifetime. A week sounded more realistically within range.

  As I was deep in my thoughts, a sudden jolt ran through my consciousness. It was like danger was breathing down my neck. Snapping out of my thoughts, I turned around quickly only to find Sheph leaning in close. Way too close. There was barely two fingers’ worth of space between us. Shivers ran down my spine.

  When did he even get here?!

  “Good, good. You actually seem capable,” said Sheph with that annoying smirk. He leaned back, standing straight again.

  “Well, keep at it until noon. You’ll get the hang of it by then,” he said, wearing that same smile as the first time I met him—not genuine, but the kind that hides something. The kind I’d use to hide my true emotions.

  “Till noon? What? It’s like 9 A.M. now! You expect me to do this for three and a half hours straight?” I asked, half confused and half irritated.

  He slapped my butt and said, “If you wanna leave… then leave now. Or you’ll start complaining about human rights next.”

  Then, like nothing happened, he just went back to the tree and laid down again.

  Yes. I really hate him.