There were five ewes nursing lambs, all creamy fleece and knobby knees. The ewe with twins was the most docile. Tate was already at the fence, trying to tempt her with a handful of grass. She made her way over eagerly, her babies tripping along as they attempted to walk and nurse at the same time, a skill they had not yet mastered.

“She’s such a good mother,” Tate said, patting the ewe on her woolly head.

Sage nudged him out of the way. “It’s her nature.”

Tate and Leelo shared a glance; they knew that not all mothers were as kind and loving as theirs, that not every woman took to motherhood so readily. Perhaps it’s different with sheep, Leelo thought.

“What are their names?” Isola asked, lifting her chin at the babies.

Sage rolled her eyes. “Names? They’re not pets, you know. We’ll keep the female for breeding and wool. The male will likely be eaten at some point. You don’t name your dinner, do you?”

Leelo frowned at Sage. Isola was showing interest in something, and her cousin was doing her best to squash it.

“I think we should call that one Fleecy,” Tate said, pointing to the little male.

Leelo smiled when she saw Isola’s eyes light up just a bit. “And what about the other one?” Isola asked Tate.

He thought for a moment. “Weecy.”

Sage snorted. “That’s not even a name.”

Tate ignored her and held out some more grass for the mother. “And I’ll call you Clover.”

Leelo’s heart felt like it might burst in her chest from how much she loved her little brother, and that surge of hope she’d felt earlier vanished. Tate was too good for the outside world, too pure. He would never survive among those horrible villagers. He’d need to go farther away. Far enough where the people wouldn’t know anything about Endla or its inhabitants. Which meant he’d probably be too far away to come back this winter.

The barn door opened so violently it hit the outside wall with a bang, startling the lambs. Ketty emerged, her face contorted in a scowl.

Leelo tried to hide Tate behind her and cast a worried glance at Isola. But Ketty’s anger was directed elsewhere. She stormed past the four of them, heading back toward the house.

“What’s wrong, Mother?” Sage asked, hurrying after Ketty.

“One of the ewes won’t nurse her lamb,” she said over her shoulder. “I have to fetch a bottle.”

“I can do it,” Tate offered, but Ketty only cast him a withering glance and disappeared into the house.

“It’s all right,” Leelo said to him. “Let’s go look for tadpoles in the stream instead.”

“You’re wrong,” he said gruffly, shrugging off Leelo’s hand. “She does hate me. She’d get rid of me herself, if she could.”