The noontide sun hung at the heaven's pinnacle, sending shafts of glimmering light through pearl-white wisps guided on a cool breeze across the brilliant blue. Wind swept ripples up verdant slopes and steps hewn from hills and the craggy face of mountains hidden in a misty fog, turning the world below into a rolling ocean of green. Amidst the waves was Yun-Fe, nestled upon the steep cliff-side in a lambent glow providing relief to Her people as they tended to fields with sweaty brow and nimble hands.

On the roadside of a dirt path paved by foot and hoof, a sheep nibbled at a scant patch of yellowing grass. Nearby, perched on a dilapidated fence, was a young man whose head tipped up to the sky as he welcomed the playful breeze mussing his hair. The clouds gathered at his count and once he'd passed the twelfth, he gently prodded his boot tip against the sheep's wooly flank until it raised its head.

"Now, now," he cooed as the sheep dishearteningly bleated, "You knew, as well as I did, that there would have been time to graze if you'd remained with the others." 

No response came, as expected, but the sheep's dewy eyes held such indignation to them that he tossed his head back with his laughter. Soon, the clopping hooves and thudding footfalls joined as one as they climbed a winding path bisecting terraced fields as it seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky. A blade of sweet grass pressed between his smiling lips danced from one corner of his mouth to the other, tossed by a tongue humming a tune. Occasionally, the sound would capture a farmhand's notice. Faces, glistened with sweat and water, turned up to him from beneath the shade of wide-brimmed hats. 

He nodded in their direction or shouted a greeting with a raised hand waving to and fro. Eyes of varying shades glossed over him, all curious in their way. Some would twist their faces and turn away before he could lift a finger, turning their backs to him as they bent low to the earth. While others offered waves, their mouths moving with words he couldn't hear, but he could feel the brunt of the weighted stares on his back until the fields were well out of sight. 

As packed earth and open sky gave way to humble homesteads and grazing animals peering from over their wooden fences, the young man slowed his strides along the bed of a gentle stream, allowing the sheep to drink from its clear waters. 

"Do you still think me cruel?" He teasingly asked, leaning against the wooden abutment of a bridge arching over the water's foamy crests.  Over the sheep's light lapping, chattering birds and humming insects, a bell's tinkling chime turned his head toward the forest's thick scrub. He tried to make out where the sound came from past the silhouette of branches hanging low around the girth of clustered boles. Before he could draw himself to full height, a small voice called out from behind, "Hey, it's Mister Leif!"

His head whipped around, panic subsiding as two children - a bright-eyed boy and  girl -   ran and skipped their way to him from the path ahead while shouting at the top of their lungs. The sheep started, scratching shallow grooves into the dirt and grass until he lifted its head beneath the chin and scratched gently while crooning calm into its twitching ears. With his other hand, he pressed a finger to his lips. The children drew nearer with their hands covering their mouths, wide round eyes flitting between him and the sheep. Once the sheep's hooves settled in the upturned earth, its ears pressed back against its head. Three sets of eyes followed Leif as he drew back to his full height and shifted an indulgent smile from animal to child. Shamefaced, the two children exchanged glances before bowing their heads while muttering in unison, "Sorry, Mister Leif." 

Then, the boy startled when he turned his head and came face to face with the sheep. It bleated in his face, and he nearly jumped out of his skin in his haste to hide behind his companion. The girl glanced at him frustratedly, then gathered herself with a stiff upper lip as she stared back into the sheep's glossy eyes.

Then with a curt bow to keep from knocking her head against the sheep's nose, she said, "Sorry, Mister Sheep."

 After a heartbeat passed, the sheep turned away from the children and continued to amble up the slope, kicking up dust and bits of grass in its way. Leif curled his fingers under his chin, watching with an amused curl to his lips as the bewildered children looked at one another, then to him. "It seems you've been forgiven," he announced proudly, and the children's faces lit up. "What say we go after him before he leaves us behind?"

Leif tipped his head to the left, then nodded ahead to where the sheep waited a short distance away while nosing at a few blades of grass. The children followed his cues, and once he brushed past them, quickly fell into step on either side of him while chattering about their days. He took turns between listening and asking questions concerning their lessons - quizzing on their sums and how to spell certain words. The sheep followed dutifully behind when Leif passed with the children in tow, lightly butting its head against the back of his knees in what he assumed was thanks for distracting them. Though, his efforts weren't needed when the question arose on how the children spelled their names. 

The girl's folded arms wrinkled the ties of her blouse's ribbon as she glowered down the length of her nose at the boy blushing to the roots of his hair. "Dummy, your name isn't Payton with an o. It's Paityn with an I! How'd you get that wrong, it's not even in the right place."

"W-Well, you didn't put two n's for Brenna neither!" Paityn told her, a triumphant smile on his trembling lips. "Teacher said so!"

Brenna's feet stamped down on a poor dandelion as she spat out, "Nuh-uh!"

"Yeah-huh, besides, Mister Bard said no secret stays that way. We're seatmates, dummy. So, you were stupid for trying."

Leif frowned, holding a hovering hand over both children's mouths with his lips pressed thin. "That's enough," he scolded, looking between them with reproachful eyes. "Friends shouldn't speak to one another like that."

Brenna lowered her arms, and Paityn's raised chin tucked against his chest as they gave each other a long glance over the makeshift barrier of his hands. The sound of shifting leaves and a voice from above broke the tense silence as someone chirped, "I couldn't have said it better myself."

Leif drew his hands back to rest on his hips when two cool hands covered his eyes from behind.  The tinkle of a mischievous bell ringing in his ear like a warning. "Ah," he sighed, letting his hackles fall at the children's muffled giggles. "So it was you…"

"Such a warm greeting," the sprightly voice said dryly, hands slipping from his face to rest on his shoulder as a hefty weight leaned against his back. "I was nearly moved to tears, dearest Leif."

Leif rolled his eyes, rolling his shoulders to knock away the hands grasping him.  Brenna and Paityn stepped past Leif with cries of, "Mister Bard!", while he petted the sheep's head with another mutter of apology for the noise.  When their eyes met, the bard wiggled his fingers, hands raised until he adjusted the cuffs of his white puffy sleeves. Without missing a beat, he reached down to pet the children's heads as they grasped onto his black trousers, leaning up to him as if he were the sun - casting sunlight the same shade as the accents on the satchel tied at his hip.

"Children," the bard greeted with an exaggeratedly low bow which the children awkwardly tried to emulate. Then, nodding his head toward Leif, he asked, "You know this man?"

"Uh-huh!" Brenna cried, "Mister Leif brought my big brother home when he got lost in the Wood."

Paityn nodded, rocking back on his heels. "And when I lost my bracelet in the river, " he pointed at Leif discerningly. "He found it for me."

The children shared another smile before beaming in Leif's direction. Something warm, like the tip of a finger, brushed a fine line across his heart at the sight. He returned the smile with a little nod. The bard pursed his lips, fixing Leif with an appraising glance.  "I see, I see…"

He brushed back his cloak, pulling a small leather-bound book from his satchel. The bard began to etch furiously on the pages, and Leif folded his arms with an arched brow, "Just what are you writing?"

"Additions to your tale, of course," the bard said, smiling when the children gasped excitedly. "Children tell much better stories than any old teaspinner, and classics are well-loved by the common people."

Ink dripped from the bronze nib of his pen as he crouched down in front of the children with a smile. "Now then, Miss Brenna and Mister Paityn, could you tell me more of Sir Leif's heroics?"

The children nearly leapt at the chance, but Leif deftly cut in, laying his hands on their heads. "Actually, you two should be returning to your lessons," Leif reminded over their groans of dismay, "the midday's rest is nearly over, your teacher will be looking for you."

"Already?" Paityn whined, casting pleading looks between the bard who shrugged in remorse and Leif who shook his head dismissively. 

Realizing they weren't going to be able to persuade him, Brenna reached out to take Paityn's hand, giving it a squeeze. "C'mon, let's go…," She said, giving him a little smile when their eyes met. Reluctantly, he nodded and the two began to make their way back up the path leading off to the village in the distance.

"Bye, Mister Leif!" Paityn shouted over his shoulder, waving his free hand. "Bye, Mister Sheep!"

Leif laid a hand on the sheep's head, rubbing his fingers down past the thick layer of wool to scratch the skin underneath. Out of the corner of his eye, the bard stepped up to his side with a little pout as he tucked his book back into his satchel. His glance, askance, rewarded Leif with a subtle glare and wrinkled brow, as if to say, "What?"

Leif's lip curled back, showing a sliver of teeth in a bitten grin when the two children stopped for a moment, seeming to quarrel, before Paityn yelled back, "Oh, and bye Mister Bard!"

The bard's face crumpled, and Leif let out a barking laugh that stirred the roosting birds overhead into flight.