Billy Bob reached the site of the newly established sheep ranch, in a village down in the foothills of the mountain of the fort. Cold, but green pastures. Winterdún Pearroc, “A fenced area of land which is a hill used for keeping sheep in the winter,” Madam Leonora had told him. Seemed as good a place as any for some sheep.

He set to work, built a low hut of turf and pine to shelter the sheep. Took his time to learn the lie of the meadow, setting stone markers and a rough fence – helping the small village live up to its name. He knew that sheep would arrive for him, but not when they would.

Eventually, a small group of the porters arrived with one of the first herds of the village – expecting to find more of the local sheep – small and coarse – he was surprised to find they had brought good Rogalian sheep. Farthington Longwools! He thanked his lady for this chance at breeding such fine stock. They had a hearty appetite but the foothills were vast and verdant.

Watching the sheep explore their new home, he grinned. This was his chance to show his lady what he could really do for her