[15-20: snowball fight] The dog worriedly hurried around the flock, nipping an ankle or two, though mostly barking at them to get them to turn back into the wind and make a straight line for the lambing shed. Meera and Dick trudged silently behind the flock, occasionally giving a balking ewe a nudge. The wind didn't let up, and the rain decided it was time to go steady. It fell almost horizontally. The lambing shed creaked as Dick yanked on the door, the wind blowing it shut every time he got it away from the jam. Meera caught the edge and hauled it with him. The leeside was noticeably warm-- stand on the inside of the door, and the biting wind let up enough to make a difference. The sheep trundled right in, as happy as they were for the shelter. Bleats of dismay died out, and the dog paced nervously around the back of the flock, looking anxious to be inside, too. The smell was intense. Sheep here year after year made a rank smell and Meera gagged for a moment before the smell let up a little. "Let's get the pregnant ewes into this pen here. The rest of the sheep can just be in the rest of the shed." Dick nudged the nearest ewe with his foot, and she trundled broadly into the pen. It wasn't actually much warmer in the shed, but the wind howling outside made it seem almost homey in comparison. "Does it blow like this every winter?" "Pretty much. And the worst of it always comes in February like this. You think you've seen the worst, and then here it is. Blowing sideways 'til sunday. It's a shepherd's lot." "You know, this isn't quite what I imagined when you said I could come along and see lambs being born." "Oh? What did you have in mind." "I don't know. Maybe like that Christmas scene. Hay and all warm and peaceful. Not a smelly shed in a howling windstorm." "I suppose I left that part out, didn't I?" Dick looked impish, but Meera could tell he'd not planned it that way. "Things being born is never tidy and neat. Life's messy." He grabbed ahold of another pregnant ewe and pulled her from the flock and into the pen, and the dog paced behind like it was his idea. Another, then another. The sheep looked too tired to make a fuss about some being separated, and only bleated occasionally. "That's the last of them, looks like. Twelve this year. It's a good spring." "What now?" "We wait." "Wait, after all that? Just nothing?" "Sorry for that, but you can't rush it. I promise not to be poor company." "So we just wait here in the cold." "I suppose we could start a fire. There's a sort of fireplace over there." Dick pointed to a sort of chimney with a conical hood hanging over a circle of stones. "Well why didn't you say so?" Meera was used to the routine of starting a fire by this point, and the wood pile being inside the shed she thought was a nice touch. It wasn't too long before they'd lit a roaring fire, and pulled out a bale of straw to sit on. "So now what? How long do you usually wait?" Dick shrugged and unslung his pack from his shoulder. "Doesn't much matter. It'll be a while. Maybe one will start early, but it always takes all night." "All night?! I promised I'd be home by midnight." "Is your uncle up at that hour?" "I suppose not. And I don't want to go out in that wind at all." "I have an idea then. How about dinner?" "Dinner? Are you mad? Run back to the house in this weather?" "I brought it with me. Mutton stew, and there's a bottle of wine in my pack." [more with a bottle of wine for the first time] ----- Meera woke with a start, unsure of where she was. The fire had died down, and she was asleep, lying on a half-baled pile of straw, alone. And it was silent. Eerily so. Slam. Thump thump. Dick held up a lantern, and dusted off his hands. "Meera. Look outside." She slipped out the door, and stopped short. The entire moor was covered in snow, and everything was more silent and still than she had ever seen. Nothing moved. The wind was gone. Thump. Something hit her back and she whirled about and she saw Dick standing in the doorway, blowing on his hands, and his face bathed in the yellow glow of his lantern. He bent and scooped, and then in one smooth movement, another snowball hurtled past her.