The forest Lou tromped through was incredibly beautiful, though admittedly, drinking in the scenery wasn’t what was first and foremost on Lou’s mind.

  Of course it didn’t help that the misting rain soaked him through to the bone, goosebumps rising and fading over and over his skin as his body struggled to find a comfortable heat.

  There were quiet, pines, and lush ferns crowding the earth that softened Lou’s footfalls, and as he moved, there was the dull roar of a river nearby… Most likely it was the Birg River. The Birg River was the deep, treacherous, gushing span of water that ran from the mountains all the way to the ocean miles away. The river by Lou’s own house fed into the Birg River, and it had been instrumental in many of the empire’s tactics to flush out Caltania’s army that tried to cross the border to seize more land.

  It had been an incredibly effective strategy, building false bridges that would collapse under a unit of men, subsequently drowning them, or having them be swept away and bashed against the numerous rocks. It had bought the empire time while they recovered from the shock of Caltania’s attempt at seizing land, and they continued to use that strategy throughout the entire war.

  The only reason Lou knew any of this was that it had been one of the points of discussion between Alfred Bishop and Peter Hillier the previous night in the pub. Presently, it was all Lou could think of as a possible strategy for handling the demon touched sheep. Drop it in the river, and be done with it.

  Creatures that were demon touched typically cropped up because someone nearby had committed a grave sin, and a demon that served one of the seven devils associated with whatever sin had been committed cursed the creature. The demon touched beings never indicated which of the devils were responsible, or which sin had been enacted, and they carried greatly depending on the severity of the sin.

  Given that it was a mere sheep turned and not a bull or even a human, the sin wasn’t unforgivable per say…

  Or, that would be the case if it weren’t for the fact that Lou was unbearably confident that the demon touched sheep appeared as a trial for him.

  This is probably a trial from Hagar the god of animals and hunt. The monk reasoned while following the slope that led him closer toward the sound of rushing water.

  As he continued on, a cool sweat started to build up on his back– not that he could tell the difference from the rain.

  I should strategize better, but odds are, demon touched or not, the sheep is not going to know how to swim and will drown… Lou continued to speculate deeply, and was so deep in thought in fact, that he failed to notice the creeping uneasiness return to his surroundings.

  The shadows under the ferns darkened, the color seemed to fade, the entire forest held its breath, afraid of the unnatural evil in its midsts

  Lou then heard a snarl that had no business coming out of any sheep, snapping his attention to his grim present.

  Turning slowly, the monk took in the sight of the sheep that had a smattering of blood across its head.

  It must’ve hit something when Lou sent him careening back into the trees.

  Staring into its vivid red eyes, the monk felt himself freeze into place.

  The beast drooled as it breathed in his direction.

  “Right… will you… chase me? If I… run…?” Lou murmured, his heart thundering in his chest.

  The sheep bared its fanged teeth.

  His right boot heel slid back a quarter inch.

  The sheep’s growl rumbled louder as its hoof stomped down, bringing itself closest to the monk.

  Lou nervously touched his tongue to his canine tooth…

  Then turned and bolted.

  He heard the sheep shriek behind him as he fled through the trees, leaping over roots and rocks, skidding down a few sharper drops in the terrain while the roar of the river consumed the sounds around Lou as he drew closer.

  Lou noted a lip in the ground coming up, and felt gladness surge in his chest as he caught sight of the rocky wall on the other side of empty space, signifying that he had reached the edge of the cliff, when sharp, tearing pain ripped through his right calf, and shortly after, the rest of his body.

  Tumbling to the ground, Lou proceeded to roll down the hill toward the lip… Only the woolen beast bounced and spun close behind him.

  Lou felt the agony in his leg radiate throughout the rest of himself, making him vaguely recall that demon touched beasts could have traces of venom in their claws or teeth…

  Oh Gods…

  When at last he no longer was crashing down toward the cliff’s edge, Lou knew that he was bumped, scraped and bruised quite thoroughly in a good number of places, but all he could think about was the throbbing pain that was filling his body, stemming from the gaping wound in his leg…

  It felt like a normal wound that had been filled with salt, and then with every panicked beat his heart made, circulated the salt through his being. Grating, scraping, and agitating every inch of himself.

  Lou left out a garbled scream as the mind numbing torture consumed. He barely noticed the sheep limping toward him with a triumphant glean in its red eyes as it opened its mouth, its fangs bloodstained…

  But then, the pain started to ebb away.

  The tiniest amount at first, but even that small grace felt like a dollop of heaven in Lou’s being.

  It started to disappear faster, and faster, and Lou could finally take long clear breaths, just in time for his eyes to snap open and stare at the demon sheep looming over him, preparing to take another bite… This time out of his throat.

  Lou started laughing as the last of the pain disappeared and he realized, without looking, that one of his powers from Reckish had again saved him as his leg magically healed until it was once again perfectly normal and whole.

  Feeling completely renewed, Lou’s maniacal laughter turned into a half-mad battle cry as he launched himself at the beast, wrapping his arms around its middle, tackling it to the ground.

  He punched the stupid sheep through its thick wool. “I… EAT…. YOU! NOT… THE OTHER… WAY… AROUND!” He continued to punctuate his words while punching the, though the damn sheep managed to clunk him in the head with its hoof.

  “THAT’S IT!” Lou roared furiously.

  He wrapped his arms around the beast, and, with great, god-given strength, rose to his feet. The demon sheep struggled in his arms, its hooves flailing about desperately in the air, its head whipping back and forth with gnashing teeth.

  “I was having a good godsdamn day before you came along! Now I’m wet, you’ve torn my pants– don’t you snap at me!” The sheep had given another valiant effort to eat Lou’s nose. “Enough with you!”

  The monk then proceeded to chuck the sheep over the edge of the cliff into the frothy, rushing water down below where several sharp rocks jutted out of the water.

  A long ‘baaaaaaaaaaaaah’ echoed up the chasm until the sheep hit the water.

  Lou stared at the river with narrowed eyes.

  When he didn’t see the sheep resurface he took in a deep breath, and then peered back at the state of his pants and let out a grumble of annoyance before turning around and heading back toward the thick of the trees.

  “I’m getting out of these woods, getting Baldwin, and going home for dinner and a cup of tea, and I am going to sit with my books for a day without talking to another living soul or laying eyes on a single godsdamn sheep,” he muttered under his breath with his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

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  As Lou climbed back toward the Atell farmhouse, his thoughts directed toward his new goal, his clothes became thoroughly soaked by the thickening downpour, only adding to his sour mood.

  By the time he was breaking out of the trees onto the grassy field, the monk found that not only was Benny returning with Ciaran Atell, but none other than Patrick Kelly. Patrick held a spear that even included a steel tip, and Ciaran held a pitchfork. Benny had a span of rope coiled around his shoulder and a leather bag that Lou guessed carried bandages.

  “Gods, Brother Lou!” Benny rushed forward, his eyes round in disbelief. “Where is the sheep? Is it following you?”

  Lou wished he had any amount of patience or will to lie or feign a serene expression to calmly explain away the situation. He could’ve said how he managed to pray over the beast to weaken it, and gave it a proper funeral after disposing of it over the ledge into the river. Or he could have said that after listening to the holy prayers, the sheep fainted into the river himself, but instead he said.

  “The wooly bastard is drowning in the Birg River, and I’m going home.”

  “W-Wait, are you hurt? How did you-”

  Lou stepped past Benny and nodded to Patrick, then stopped in his tracks and fixed the man with a stony look that had the elder frowning. “I’m sending Kylise Hillier to your farm to work for Maureen. She needs to learn to respect your wife. Do I have your permission to send her?”

  Both Ciaran Atell and Benny both balked at the abrupt question. They instantly tensed in wait for Patrick’s infamous temper, however the Kelley man at least had the presence of mind to take into account that the monk had just taken on a demon touched beast all on his own and most likely saved his friends a good amount of pain and difficulty.

  “I’ll allow it for a week, but if she upsets Maureen in any way, she’s gone.”

  “Fine.”

  Then without another word, Lou soldiered on toward his pony and cart.

  He knew he should offer Benny a ride back to his own home, but the young man had always refused the offer anyway…

  So, with his clothes sticking to his skin, shivers creeping up and down his limbs that he knew would send his teeth chattering for the entire road home, he set his mind on a hearty beef stew for dinner. He’d cook it with parsley, dill, and perhaps even a splash of red wine he had been saving for a special occasion. Though after what he’d just endured, he had every intention of consuming the rest of the bottle with the meal before then going to bed for a long night of meditative prayers, with a hot cup of peppermint tea clasped in his hands. Ideally then he could ease away the terrible event of his day from his mind, and the cold from his body.

  ***

  Reckish blinked at the mirror, then turned with his arms crossed to stare at Hagar.

  “That… Did not go as I thought it would…”

  “Did you honestly not take into consideration that he has had no formal training from the temple?” Reckish stared at the god of hunt, with his long wild brown beard and mossy eyes that remained transfixed on the mirror though it no longer showed Reckish’s chosen priest.

  “I… I thought he would know how much more powerful he is than the sheep, and… and hunt it. He’d develop stealth, strategy… I’d hoped he’d unlock either your powers of superior hearing, or sharpened vision…”

  “Well, he hasn’t.” Reckish returned flatly. “At best he’s merely developed a slight aversion to mutton.”

  “He… He might feel especially fond of it now, too! As a reminder of his triumph!”

  “Then you are saying what he got out of your trial, Hagar, is an intense enjoyment or dislike for mutton?”

  “W-Well-”

  “Besides, didn’t Zeviras say the trials should be more subtle?”

  “Oxby was due for a demon touched! You know I wouldn’t summon a demon to bestow harm on people!” Hagar rounded on the war god, his indignation steadying him.

  “Ah, because of the Kelly son?”

  “Yes! He is on his way home after meeting with a rebel leader that he intends to join to terrorize the residents!”

  Reckish looked to the fluffy clouds that drifted overhead with an irritable sigh.

  “That may be, but you better be able to unlock something for my priest.”

  Hagar snorted. “Relax. I already have the perfect second trial… Though… I may cut him a small break… Bilsib wants to give her first trial to him tonight.”

  Reckish didn’t quite succeed in hiding his cringe, the lines around his steely gray eyes tightening.

  “What ability is she hoping to unlock from him?”

  “You really think Bilsib told me?”

  Reckish nodded idly as he admonished that the aloof goddess never shared what her goals were with the chosen priests, except if asked by Zeviras himself.

  As the war god and Hagar began making their way to the edge of the dias, they hoped to find a staircase that would lead them down to the banquet hall.

  Ever since Zeviras and Tivera had been at odds, things hadn’t worked quite as efficiently as before…

  “So… Do you really think your priest is going to do what you want him to? You know Heleka isn’t going to ask for something simple if you lose this bet.”

  Reckish chuckled. A pleasant sound that vibrated in his chest.

  “I’m all too aware, but… Thus far, Louis Borrach at the very least seems to have started having an appreciation for my gifted abilities… Even if it is to handle a demon touched sheep.”

  “Well I’m glad you’re not too bleat up about it.” Hagar clapped a hand on Reckish’s shoulder and the war god turned to stare at him pointedly. The god of animals and hunting dropped the hand and his chin to his chest. “I miss Tivera.”

  Reckish gave a pitying laugh. “I understand. Even I will concede things are a little too quiet now without him.”

  “Why are we all so serious? Honestly, without him, it’s like we’re all depressed,” Hagar mused aloud as they successfully discovered a set of stairs built of clouds and light. “Do you remember when he dressed that possum like Zeviras?”

  Reckish grinned. “That is one of the few times that, I will admit, he was funny.”

  “Oh come now, what about when he drew moles and a unibrow on Juvali?”

  The war god didn’t laugh, though he did smile at the memory of the goddess of lust and beauty awaking and carrying about her day unaware that Tivera had pulled a small prank… Not until Zeviras struggled not to laugh did she catch on.

  “Well Hagar, what about when Tivera replaced all the feathers in your arrows with paper pictures of penises?”

  The god of hunt’s mirth died and turned to a grumble, which, in turn, did succeed in making Reckish laugh once more.

  The two gods proceeded to continue their trip down memory lane, though despite Reckish finding himself recalling a surprising amount of fond memories about Tivera, he couldn’t help but fret over Lou’s trials with Bilsib… After all… The monk had a hell of a past he was running from.