Chapter Eight
AshGwenn wandered the cliff tops in a sun-lit haze, looking for missing ewes and their half-grown lambs. She wanted to dock the lamb’s tails so that the wool on the rump would be tidy at shearing time. Bridie and Wink circled ahead of her, hunting in the brushy gullies and hollows and Gwenn gave a sharp, irritated whistle to call them back.
Arkady heard the whistle and turned his head. Gunnar, who stood beside him on a grey and black outcrop of rock close to the ocean’s edge, asked lackadaisically, “Did you hear something, Inky?”
He nodded. “The dogs are barking on the tops. They must have found the sheep that Gwenn has been hunting for.”
“Aye,” said Gunnar, sighing. “She has been after them for days, but it won’t help.”
“Help what?”
“Well, you know... with the real pro
