Ishar was suppose to have the sheep in the pen before dusk hit but the sun was already below the horizon and he was a mile away from home. He hurried his bare footed steps and led the sheep by occasionally yelling at them in gibberish words and leading them with gentle hits from his staff. Mairek had only recently departed Ishar's company and made his way to the Jamou village where he resided and it was then that Ishar had begun to notice how late it was.
Ishar inwardly cursed Mairek for it was his friend who'd led him to being late with tales of Jesna, the girl he'd lost to a Binorian. Mairek would occasionally break down mid-tale and lie on the ground, incapable of movement except the occasional shake brought about by loud sobs. Ishar would stand over him as the sheep grazed around them and wait for his friend to collect himself in order to continue their journey.
He felt pity for Mairek and wondered what the pain his friend was enduring might feel like. It had to be something drastic to reduce a man to a being who pleasured himself to sheep mating and couldn't go an hour without tears streaming down his face at the mere mention of a lost lover. Ishar tried wondering what it would feel like if he lost Niada as Mairek had lost Jesna but he couldn't form a coherent feeling from such a thought provided Niada was never his to begin with.
Will she ever truly be mine? He wondered as he led the sheep along, he made his way through bushes and scattered trees until he reached a clearing that allowed him to spot a wooden structure settled sloppily upon the slope of a hill. It was his home, it had been his home for as long as he could remember and he knew nowhere else. The house sat in the outskirts of the Jamou village, a sublocation of the Talisi Kingdom. It was always customary for a Meena Priest to ostracize himself from society as an act of servitude to the Goddess Meena, as Ishar's Cheke had done.
As he approached closer to home Ishar was able to spot a man in red robes standing outside the entrance to the wooden house that was divided into three sections, the pen for the sheep, the room for the old man and the place where the cooking was done that also doubled as Ishar's sleeping chamber. There was a latrine dug at the bottom of the hill and built from the same wooden material as the house, it was there that Ishar was forced to spend the night whenever he did something that didn't sit well with his Cheke. Ishar shuddered when he got close enough to see the expression on the old man's face.
Veste's face was wrinkled, dark with a nose that was too large for it. He had green eyes that could pierce the soul of any creature that met them and his balding head had a few white hairs above the ears. Ishar met Veste's gaze and immediately shied away as a cold chill ran up and down his spine. "Didn't you leave this house with two dozen sheep?" Asked Veste as he twirled the hem of his red robe around his right hand.
Ishar was making his way behind the sheep, leading them towards the pen when Veste had posed the question. He started counting the sheep while inwardly making a silent prayer to the Gods that their number was indeed two dozen sheep. It wasn't. One sheep was missing. He was about to turn to face Veste when the old man's calloused right hand landed a slap across Ishar's left cheek.
Ishar let out a yelp and fell to the floor. He tried to raise himself but a kick to his abdomen ensured he didn't. Ishar felt the tears stream down his face despite knowing that they would do nothing to ease the wrath of the old man. "Useless, utterly useless you Mbengo!" Mbengo was the name given to Kolotians by the Binorians as they waged the campaign that would wipe out the Kolotian race off the face of the realm, it also doubled as the name of an insect that leaves a putrid smell upon being crushed.
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"I should never have taken you in, you've been nothing but a thorn in my side you blue finger imbecile." said Veste as he repeatedly kicked Ishar's frail form on the ground. Other than the tattered grey cloak and brown torn pants that were three sizes too small and whose length reached the top of his calves, Ishar wore nothing else to protect him from the old man's hard kicks. He was certain his ribs would crack as the air in his lungs repeatedly got knocked out of him.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, Veste stopped hitting him. Ishar felt the metallic taste of blood within his mouth and any slight movement brought upon a mountain of pain across his entire body. He had been in this position before, he knew what Veste would say after dealing punishment. "Tonight you will not eat in my house and you will sleep in the latrine." said the old man. Yes, he knew the words. But as Veste turned to enter the house he added words never uttered before. "And by sunrise once I finish my devotion to Meena, I shall count my sheep and if they aren't two dozen you will take the missing sheep's place. I will slaughter you."
Ishar limped his way down the hill and away from the house he'd called home. He knew Veste wasn't bluffing and that his fate was surely sealed if he didn't find the missing sheep. Ishar cursed himself for not counting the sheep before leading them home. He cursed himself for tolerating the distractions that the weeping Mairek had provided that had surely prevented him from taking better note of the sheep. And most of all he cursed himself for being born.
Ishar slowly made his way out of the clearing of trees and into the dense forest filled with underbrush and tall trees. He planned to push past the forest and climb several hills to reach the hill that was thick with grass where he had taken the sheep to graze, from there he'd look for tracks that might lead him to the missing sheep. He hoped he'd lost the sheep upon the hill and not elsewhere.
The sun had fully set and the darkness of night had swept over the forest surrounding the thousand hills of Talisi. Ishar said a silent thanks to the gods for providing him with a full moon on his quest to recover the sheep but the moon's incandescent glow played with the shadows of the trees and spooked Ishar once in a while. He wondered what his fate would be like if he ran into a Caryt lion but he shrugged away the thought. He was in enough turmoil as it was without having to plague his mind with fantasies of doom.
Ishar took comfort in the fact that he'd grown up in the Talisi forest. He knew nowhere else and that made him the most adept at mastering the layout of the land he'd grown up in. He knew where the river ran through and how to get to it. He knew the hills that had caves and he knew the different types of trees that layered various parts of the forest. Yes, Ishar had nothing to fear, he could definitely find his way in the dark, even without the help of the moon. Heck! He could find his way even with his eyes closed. He smiled at this fact and the pain plaguing his midsection eased enough for him to quicken his pace.
There was a slight spring added to his steps and a glimmer of hope that came with the faith that he would succeed in finding the missing sheep. Ishar's eyes scanned the woods and he was able to spot the path that had formed from the grass and undergrowth giving way from being trampled on by the hooves of sheep and from his own feet, constantly on many occasions, as he led the sheep to the designated grazing hill. He was able to smell the familiar scent of trees that lined the path he'd used many times. He was also able to spot the amber glow of eyes that lay in the shadows either side of the path he was so used to following.. He froze.
Ishar thought that his imagination was playing tricks on him but a low growl coming from the shadows surrounding him confirmed that he was indeed in mortal peril. The eyes on either side of the path that was before him moved closer and he was able to make out the silhouette of two Yendw wolves. Yendw wolves were ferocious animals that were as large as a pony, hunted in packs and took thrill in the chase of prey. Ishar looked to his right and two more wolves stepped out of the shadows. A growl behind him caused him to turn and two more sets of amber eyes like tongues of flame materialized from the darkness and revealed two more wolves.
Ishar looked to the left and saw only darkness, no wolves lay there. His heart beat rapidly, threatening to tear from his ribcage with as much force as his Cheke had tried to enforce with a beating. He wished he'd carried his staff, in his humiliation and pain he'd forgotten the only weapon that would have given him a slight chance of fighting back. What was he going to do bare handed against six wolves that were waist high and full of claws and teeth? He looked to his left again and confirmed the lack of wolves in that direction and swallowed hard. He observed around him again and saw the six wolves crouching, getting ready to pounce on their easy game. Ishar turned to his left and sprinted in that direction like his life depended on it, for it did.