{se} a shepherd's touch

Luka

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade

Luka has no official profession in his youth, but as a Halo-homebody who was more able-bodied than the grumpy old geezers who often tracked him down for these things, being a Jack-of-all-trades sort of comes with the territory. Given his depth of experience with hunting and tracking, today that means tracking down a lost gaggle of hardy (and hard-headed) sheep.

Having hitched them all together so they couldn't wander apart, Luka starts the long journey back to the Greenwing and the crotchety old shepherd that lives there. The Frostfields are impenetrably foggy as ever, but the mud and muck are unseasonably thick, making the journey even longer and messier as the sheep bleat and stop mulishly at every turn. "Don't make me come back there," he threatens, voice a deep rumble but overall an empty threat as he aims a glare over his shoulder.

One yew drops her head toward one of the strange plants Luka had seen warning about on the Notice Board, and with an exasperated noise he tugs on the rope, dragging her head away from it. "Not a brain between all of you," he mutters, glad to have averted at least one disaster.

And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid