Dakota awoke to something snuffling his hair.

“Bahh.”

“Hey, little guy.”

He rubbed the lamb’s head. You know, he wasn’t certain whether the lamb was a bro or not. He surreptitiously glanced underneath it.

“Whew. good thing.”

He gave the lamb a light noggin.

“Bros before h… HOW ARE YOU ALIVE.”

Dakota hauled the lamb up, holding it at arm's length.

“You should be dead. Why aren’t you dead.”

“Baahh.”

“Right, you know nothing.”

He set the lamb on the ground. He levelled up last night. [Bonded Creature]. He could feel some of the lamb’s emotions. Mmm, that wasn’t the right word. It was like he could see the very surface of the lamb’s thoughts. Actually, it had to take a du…

Dakota winged the lamb outside.

“Farmhouse is a strictly no pooping zone…ight.”

The lamb stared him down as it discharged. No surface thoughts presented themselves.

“Stupid sheep.”

Dakota walked outside. It would need a name. A good bro name.

“Chad, chadster, chadley.”

The lamb stared.

“Hmm, okay, how about Francis the Third? Pope John Paul? Mr. Woolykins?”

The lamb kept its deadpan look. Dakota sat on the porch thinking. It should be clever. What name related to lambs?

“Oh, HA…I know the one. Hopefully, this isn’t blasphemy.”

Dakota pointed at the lamb.

“You shall be known as Jesus the Lamb.

Jesus let out a “baah” appearing content with the name before wandering to the garden.

He didn’t know exactly why the creature hadn’t died. Sure [Bonded Creature] intimated he had a connection with it but why didn’t it need to eat? He hadn’t felt any sense of hunger from Jesus either.

Dakota stood.

“One more question for the pile.”

His stomach let out a deep rumble as he walked toward the garden.

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“Fred, I fed you last night. Be happy you got anything.”

Frederick was not satisfied. He let out another mighty grumble and Dakota realized he was hungry. Almost faint, which was odd. He had gone for longer periods without eating.

Stomping back into the house, he inhaled the leftovers from last night. Still ravenous, Dakota ate berries as he uprooted another potato plant. He didn’t like pigging out but he was so hungry.

He ate every potato from that plant and felt moderately better. He could eat more. He wanted to eat more but he needed to conserve his vegetables.

Jesus bounced around outside, full of energy. Dakota stared at the lamb. He should not have to eat this much and Jesus should technically need to eat something.

He could feel the gears in his brain turning as the conclusion clunked into place. The lamb was stealing energy from him.

“It must be the bond.”

Dakota sat on the deck chair, eyes closed. He could sense the bond easier now. It was like a tether running from him to Jesus.

Tentatively, he plucked it. A thrum resounded inside him. Jesus came skipping around the side of the house, pausing in front of him.

“Felt that too huh.”

He plucked it again. Jesus shivered, turning around in circles before looking up at him.

“I’ll stop, sorry.”

Dakota felt along the tether. The further the lamb went from him, the thinner the connection became. When they were close, it was akin to a firehose, with lots of thoughts and energy pumping between them. Now, as Jesus approached the other side of the garden, it appeared more like a garden hose. Still strong, but not nearly as formidable.

He inspected the point where the tether connected to him. There was a construct at the connection point. Instinctually, he grabbed it and turned. The tether thinned, now only the diameter of his pinky. He turned further. Now, it was only the thickness of his shoelace.

Jesus came bleating back, stumbling as he nudged Dakota’s knee. Could a lamb look pale? He turned the construct - the valve, back to its original position.

Jesus’ trembling stopped, a spring entering his step again. The lamb licked his leg, giving him a long look as if to say,

“Don’t ever freaking do that again.”

Okay, that was enough tampering for the day. Stretching, Dakota scratched Jesus behind the ears and made his way to the garden. The weeds weren’t going to pull themselves.

He worked on weeding for a couple of hours, letting his mind wander as clouds rolled overhead. He hadn’t seen clouds in a while, the days were usually clear with, at most, the odd wisp making a fleeting appearance. But these were no wisps, these were great billowing fortresses; their white towers ascending high into the sky.

Dakota had never seen such large clouds before. Setting his hoe down, he hurried to the house and clambered up a post onto the roof. The wood shingles cracked beneath his weight as he walked to the peak. He needed to go a little higher to see above the tree line. Gripping the crumbling brick chimney, he hauled himself on top of it. The sky opened into a neverending expanse, only limited by the walls of cloud moving past the island. And what walls they were.

He slowly turned, drinking the sight in before sharply stopping. A storm wall approached the island. While the clouds of the day were immense, they had retained a pleasant poofy look as they lazily glided past. The storm wall dwarfed them, both in size and in ferocity. Black clouds boiled over each other, creating a churning, impenetrable bulwark. Bright flashes illuminated the interior of the storm, sending a shiver down Dakota’s spine. That was bad news.

He slid off the building, calling Jesus as he ran to the garden. A few potato plants should last them…a while. Jesus came toddling over, oblivious to the situation. A blast of wind nearly pushed him over as he worked on the last potatoes. The trees groaned, the tops snapping. The first fat drop of rain splatted against his head.

“Cmon….Cmon.”

Dakota sifted out the last small potatoes as the rain spittled, then poured, then drove. The change happened so fast, he was soaked by the time he reached the porch. Great sheets of rain slammed into the earth, the wind driving it ninety degrees to the ground.

He barricaded the door as the first lightning bolt flashed across the sky. BOOOMMMmm. The rumble shook the house, dust falling from the rafters.

He hoped the storm got the goblins as well.