Fall 1, 513 AV
The goats are loud and rambunctious in front of her and she watches them quietly. At her side, Vespera is curled up, snoozing in the late afternoon sun. A last day of heat and warmth before winter takes it away.
Unconsciously, she starts to stroke her dog's fur, his short hairs soft to the touch. Vespera gives a contented sigh as she works her way through his body, turning slightly so she is rubbing his sides now. The little devil is partially awake, she knows, but he's too lazy to start running amok now. Not when the weather is so pleasant.
Sitting here on the grass, watching the herd, it's too quiet for her. Too calm. She needs to get up and work her hands, pushing her idle thoughts to the side.
Pushing away the memories and feelings that lay just too close beneath the surface. Like a scab, she picks on it when she has too much time on her hands and she is tired of the pain it brings.
Getting up, she looks around for a likely candidate and approaches a herd of goats. By now they're used to her and while a few run away playfully, the most are content to keep eating and fighting each other. They ignore her as she moves in their midst, staring at the colours on their back. At this time she is still unable to discern them individually, but Grothous, her boss, has no problems with that.
If she lived long enough, maybe she would be able to.
(She should have died.)