I don’t have much time to tell my story—I’m about to be stoned. The choppy rhythm of their confused gallop is approaching my cave. But I’m not moving…been on the run too long.
What to wear? My question of the day. Every day. A very hard choice indeed, you see, because a lady wolf must look her best. The cream lightweight wool? The midnight black curly nap? Or the charcoal wool/rabbit blend? I must own an entire flock of choices. I can’t help being naturally stylish…so I shouldn’t be blamed for my excessive use of sheep. Wool is also a wise choice—keeps me cool in summer and warm in winter. It’s a must for the perfect wardrobe.
Okay, maybe I did use my cunning skills to lead sheep away from the pack a few hundred times. But that’s it. I swear. One time I spoke to a wandering sheep from a bush. “There’s a fresh patch of grass, top grade quality, just beyond the crooked tree on the hill.” I waited as the sun rested on the horizon and the sky streaked purple strokes above the juniper trees. I shivered and couldn’t wait to get dressed.
“Baaaa. Be right back,” he called to the others. I’m sure you can guess who was waiting by the crooked tree. Crooked me. I love that Merino wool coat.
Another time I taught them how to square dance. “Ace of diamonds, Jack of spades, swing your partner and promenade…” I swung my partner right out the gate and do-si-doed until I owned a new silver tweed.
My favorite game was hide and sheep. I was a great help to the ones with smallest brains who couldn’t find a spot to hide. “I’ve got the perfect spot for you; no one will EVER find you here.” And they never did, but I wove a warm hat and mittens.
But that was the old me, the sly wolf who used her above average intelligence and creative wit to get what she wanted. I gave into temptation and horded wool, more than enough for thirty wolves. I confess it was fun, but now I’m on the most wanted list. I move from cave to cave. No one will believe I’ve changed.
In my defense, my latest garment was purchased for me by a kind and spotless lamb. I wear it and I am new. He said he bought it with his blood and it is the only way to wash away my sins. This coat is all about forgiveness.
Do you hear that? Sounds like a heavy rain, the hooves charging down the hill. My time is almost up. An army of sheep draw near and I wrap my cloak tighter. I am warm.
(First place Editor's Choice at Faithwriters.com weekly challenge.)