“Whoop…whoop…whoop!” Zebulon stood at the far end, staring at the strangers.

“That noise, Dad? It’s just something I’m watching. Well, I’d better get my chores done, so…. Okay, I love you, too, Dad. Bye.” He looked at his friends. “Sorry. Bad timing. It was my dad.”

“How…?” Clementine asked in wonder.

“I’ll explain later.”

“Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!” The stomping hooves echoed through the pasture.

“Roscoe, I think they’re ready,” Paco said in distress.

Benjamin knelt and gently rubbed the top of the little goat’s black head with his fingers. “Roscoe, I believe these horns are a lot stronger than his. You can do it!” The goat smiled at his king as the whoops rang in their ears.

“Unless you can think of a way out?” Clementine added. They looked behind them at the large thorny blackberry bushes that trapped them.

“Get in your starting position, little cousin. Whoop!” Zebulon fiercely stomped at the end of the goat-lined jousting course. Roscoe nearly fell over from anxiety.

“Roscoe, are you okay?” Benjamin put his hand on the goat’s neck.

“Oh yes, My King. D-don’t worry about m-me. I f-feel a little l-light headed, though.” His body swayed slightly back and forth.

The whooping and stomping stopped. A brown goat stepped out. Roscoe forced his stiffened legs to his starting spot between the two lines. The others walked behind their stricken friend and stood to the side.

“Ready!” The brown goat shouted.

Paco moved up to speak in Roscoe’s ear. “We believe in you, Roscoe, and so does King Pugsly.”

“Begin! Whoop!”

Zebulon’s light trot turned into a reckless sprint. Roscoe couldn’t bend his legs at all but ran as fast as he could. A few goats laughed at his running sticks. Zebulon bowed his gray head and aimed his massive intimidating horns at Roscoe’s face. The little goat could hear the wild goats on both sides of him whooping hysterically and pounding the ground with their hooves. Zebulon’s long white beard blew to the side of his powerful neck as he picked up speed.

Roscoe’s cold sweat made his eyes water. Zebulon’s pounding hooves came faster and faster. The little goat’s mind was spinning. This is it! He bowed his head and ran blindly, certain that this was the end. He couldn’t help peeking at the charging giant. He began to hyperventilate. The impact was seconds away and–THUNK!

Zebulon charged past the paralyzed body that lay on the ground. Too afraid of what he might see, Roscoe kept his eyes shut tightly. Zebulon felt only the swish of air on his head and looked up. He saw no sign of his opponent anywhere in front of him. Still running hard, he looked behind him and saw the little black and white goat lying on his back, his legs frozen in the air as his little tail wagged back and forth.