The climb down the hill was the hardest thing he ever had to do, at least in that moment. The constant draining of his mana had left all of his muscles strained to their limit. Every step sent waves of pain rippling through his body like a pebble breaking through the still surface of a pond. About halfway down the hillside he had recovered enough of his mana to be able to send a command through his crook. 

    "Stop running and return to the hill." Along with the image of the blackened hill where he was. 

    The countless balls of light lit over the crown of his head and spun around him like the stars around the world. As he was channeling the message a niggling voice echoed in the back of his head repeating a soft cry for help until the channeling was finished. He checked over his shoulder and looked back up the hill, but chased the thought out of his head and chalked it up to the general feeling of anxiety that lingered about him after every fight. 

    The web-spun mists had cleared out over the course of him cutting out the rams, and from his position halfway up the hill he could see the herd coalescing around his cousin; his brown robes still damp, and his eyes fixated on the dark, distant and twisted corpse of a spinner, who was prodding at it with the butt of the wooden staff he carried. 

    "There you are!" Arthur called out for him, waving as Johnathan neared. 

    It had taken quite a while to make it down the rest of the hill, and by the time he made it to the bottom, he was swaying with every step he took. Arthur rushed forward just in time to catch his cousin as he fell forward, his chest heaving. 

    "Thank you, Arthur." Johnathan said after a few moments. 

    "You're welcome. Everything alright?"

    "Yeah," the shepherd answered in between heavy breaths, "Most of the rams survived. One died. We'll commit it to the fire tonight." 

    "That's good to hear, catch your breath cousin." 

    As he caught his breath, Johnathan scanned the horizon. He spotted the alabaster wool coat of the aged ram, and her stubby tail wagging in the wind. He smiled and continued to look for the tawny, feathered head, or the green hood of the fae-kin. 

    "Have you seen Aethel?" Johnathan asked. 

    "The abomination? No. Fortunately." Arthur answered, "I hear that some of 'em can speak to animals, them being so close and all, and frankly I'm wondering if she was the one who set us up." 

    "What do you mean?" 

    "She told her spider friends to attack us. She travels with us for one day and we suffer an attack like that?" He spat on the ground at his own feet as Johnathan pushed himself to his feet, "Then disappears right after the attack? Suspicious." 

    "If you see her fight them you wouldn't think that." Johnathan stated, "That's her handiwork."The shepherd motioned towards the mangled corpse of the spider behind them at the very edge of the blackened remains of the hill.

    "So? Maybe she stole from you." 

    "Maybe she ran away. Fae-kin are cowards." 

    "No. She fought hard and we spoke after the fight." He said, " I think she might might be in trouble." Johnathan glanced up the side of the hill back to the top. 

    "Even is she were," Arthur said, with a quick glance behind him at the herd, "And?"Arthur said, as he looked into his couson's eye. 

    "What do you mean, 'and?' "Johnathan asked. 

    "Wasn't that her job? Put herself at risk in exchange for being let into the rest? Well, if she were in trouble, that's her job. Your job is to look after your flock, not put yourself at risk for some...freak. The flock is safe, isn't that enough?" 

    The pain coursing through his body made him consider his cousin's words longer than he liked but chased the thought out of his mind when he thought of the mist in those blue orbs when she was speaking of her father the night before. He steadied himself and took a deep breath. Enough of his mana had recovered to begin repairing his aching body. 

    "No." He said after the last wave of pain finished coursing through him, "I'll go find her. Take the flock to the rest. You know where it is, I'll meet you there."  Johnathan began stepping up the slope of the blackened hill. 

    "Why?" Arthur stepped forward and grabbed his cousin by the shoulder hard enough to stop him in place, "You've only *just* met her. Your duty as a shepherd is to your flock." 

    "And as a follower of Auriel, my duty is to help those in need." Johnathan turned to face his cousin. His hand gripping onto the shaft of his crook. Arthur glared daggers at him. 

    "Is it really about, *duty*, Johnathan?" Arthur rolled his eyes and stepped forward and shoved Johnathan with the his staff. "Is it really?" He spat. 

    "Arthur, calm down. I don't want to fight." Johnathan said, backing away from his cousin.

    "Then get  back in line, Johnathan. Leave that *freak* to whatever fate is doing her a kindness."

    "I gave her my *word*, Arthur." He said, "What is a man's without his word?" It was something his father had always said, and something that Johnathan had tried to live by. 

    "Alive." Arthur said, "You'll be alive. Do you try to save every hare being chased by a fox? No. Then why would you try to save one animal from another." Arthur shoved Johnathan again, " So get back in line. Do your job, and look after your sheep so you don't wind up like your dumbass dad. Do you know how he got that wound that killed him years later? He tried to rescue some dumbass adventurer from a wolf." Arthur spat, "My dad told me about it." 

    "Arthur. Shut up." Johnathan shoved his cousin back, "Don't ever talk about my dad like that again." 

    "He was a dumbass, and so are you." Arthur spat at Johnathan. 

    Johnathan cocked his arm back and swung a hay-maker at his cousin. Arthur ducked his head and caught Johnathan's arm and locked it in his arm pit. He pulled the younger shepherd forward into his raised knee. Johnathan reeled as the breath fled from his stomach, and fell backwards. Arthur kept hold of his arm and pulled him forward again, once more kneeing him in the stomach before letting him fall to the ground. 

    "Your dad's dead, Johnathan." Arthur said, kicking his cousin in the ribs as he tried to shamble up to his feet, "Because he did stupid shit like you do." 

    "Shut up!" 

    Arthur's foot connected with his ribs again, and Johnathan fell to the ground. The red-headed twenty year old lifted his leg and stomped on his cousin's back. 

    "Then get up. Pick up your staff. And lead. Your. Flock." He punctuated each statement with another stomp, "And leave that animal to her fate." 

    "She's not an animal, Arthur." Johnathan stated as he braced himself, pushing off the ground with his forearm. 

    "Well she's not a person." His cousin answered. He aimed a kick at Johnathan's ribs again. 

    Johnathan foresaw that and caught his cousin's leg by the ankle and stood up quickly, rushing him and pushing with his shoulder into Arthur's middle. The surprise tackle caught him off guard and sent him sprawling backwards into the gravelly sand. Johnathan held onto his cousin's leg and slammed his fist into the side of his face a couple of times. Arthur held up his arms to absorb the blows rolling his head away from the direction the fist came. It took two or three punches for Johnathan to break through the guard. 

    After the first solid blow, Arthur's vision went hazy. One his hands groped the ground blindly and picked up his dropped rod. He swung it into his cousin's head, connecting with his temple. Blood trickled down  the side of his face and dizziness swam through his head. Arthur, meanwhile, picked up a handful of the black sand and tossed it into his cousin's face. Temporarily blinded and dizzy from the blow, Johnathan released his cousin's leg. Arthur kicked out with it and slammed it into the middle of his chest, and Johnathan fell back to the earth. 

    "Bind." Arthur said, holding his rod in front of him. 

    The rod grew two tendrils that spat out like two serpents and wrapped themselves around the prone shepherd, binding his arms tightly to his sides, and his legs together. Arthur drove the rod into the ground like a stake. 

    "You're going to stay here, Alright?" He ordered the staff. Johnathan swore he heard it hiss in response. 

    Arthur walked over to his cousin and spat in his face.  

    "You're not a shepherd, Johnathan." Arthur said, giving him a swift kick in to his hip as Arthur struggled against the wood binds. "You don't deserve this." Arthur knelt down and picked up the crook that had fallen from Johnathan's grasp during the scuffle. "Your herd is mine now, and your life, too. Just stay here and if you follow me, I'll kill you." He stated simply. He motioned to the rod, "This spell'll wear off after a while. I won't leave you to die. Consider that my mercy." He spat on his cousin again and took a handful of the shepherd's blood and smeared it on the crook. After that he pulled a knife he had carried on his belt, cut his own hand, and smeared it over Johnathan's. 

    "Stop it Arthur, don't do this." 

    In response Arthur brought the iron head down onto his cousin's knee. Johnathan screamed in pain and tried to roll to put some pressure on it. 

    "I'm taking your flock,  Johnathan. There's nothing you can do." 

    Arthur channeled mana into the crook, and the two smears of blood glowed a bright red. Moments later the smears joined the red wood of the crook and the red iron of the head. After the ritual was complete he closed his eyes and the countless pale orbs of light spun around his head and disperesed across the field and sank into the heads of rams. 

    "Don't follow me, or I'll kill you." He stated simply as he led the herd up the hill. 

    Every single one of the rams that he and his father had raised together crested the hill, and vanished from sight. All but the single, aged ram with the faded alabaster coat, who stayed behind at the bottom of the hill, and hurried to the wounded shepherd.