I stood at the edge of the village square, my arms crossed and my head pounding. The walk to the well had turned into a full-blown parade.
Behind me, Thalor was walking on the path with a strange, high-stepping awkward gait, clearly still trying to figure out how his knees were supposed to work inside a leather skirt.
But the real show was the crowd. On one side stood the predator tribes—wolves with grey ears twitching and leopards with long, spotted tails lashing in curiosity. On the other side, the sheep tribe folks had already gathered.
The moment the sheep saw Thalor, they didn't recoil. Instead, they let out a collective bleat of joy.
To them, the Mer-folk weren't legends; they were the silent guardians who had watched over their shores for years, protecting the 'pure and soft' sheep simply because they liked them.
