Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own the Bible. Who can own God's words? I'm not making money by posting this story.

A/N: Originally completed in the summer/fall of 2008. Sequel to "The Call." The horizontal lines represent scene change/passage of time.

The Wolf

When the man had first brought Briar to his flock, she had been stunned at how large it was. In a green valley between two mountains, sheep covered the ground like snow up to the foothills, and all the way to the horizon. Apparently the man had brought many ex-goats like herself to follow him.

Life in the flock was different—hard to get used to. When she had been a goat, Briar had relied solely on her own discretion: she would find her own food, water, and places to sleep without help from anyone else. And she had been proud of her self-reliance. Here, the sheep relied totally upon the man (whom they called the Shepherd) for everything. He led them to green grass and calm pools to eat and drink. The sheep never did anything without his say-so.

During the day, the Shepherd would sit amongst the sheep and teach them. The lambs crowded close to him and leaned their heads against him while everyone listened. As the sheep chewed their cud, he spoke to them about himself, and how he was their leader, and that if they heard his words and obeyed them, all would be well.

One day, Briar was dismayed to discover that the Shepherd was washing all the sheep in the stream. Why did she seem to be the only one who wasn't looking forward to it?

"Does he bathe them all in one day?" she asked an elderly ewe standing near her.

"As many as he gets around to," the old sheep answered. "Sometimes it takes many days." Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at Briar. "Why? Don't you want to go?"

Briar shook her head vehemently. "What if the water's cold? What if I trip and get carried away by the current?" She didn't add that she preferred being dirty. Goaty habits died hard.

The ewe let out a bray of laughter. "Silly lambkin. As long as you listen to the Shepherd, no harm will come to you. And speaking of listening," she added, nodding to the stream, "he's calling me."

Briar followed as the old ewe ambled over to the stream. The lambs standing on the bank made room for her and bleated encouragements.

"Jump down to him!"

"Don't be afraid!"

The old sheep nudged them affectionately. "Afraid? How can I be afraid if the Shepherd is here?" Without hesitating for an instant, she launched herself into the stream. Briar watched in alarm as the water engulfed her elderly friend up to her shoulders and threatened to sweep her away. Then the Shepherd's hands grasped her and held her safely. As he coaxed the dirt out of her wool with brisk strokes of his hands, Briar turned and slipped inconspicuously into the flock. She certainly didn't want him to call her next!

The Shepherd was busy washing sheep until the sun began to set, and he still hadn't gotten to Briar. As the sun's slanting rays began to cast shadows, he came up out of the stream and called to the flock. Briar studied the foothills while the other sheep followed the Shepherd to the sheep-pen. She had been longing to taste the tender-looking grass that grew on them, but the Shepherd never allowed them to graze there. The sun's dying light somehow made the hills look even more tempting than before. She glanced furtively at the other sheep. None of them were looking her way. She stole into the shadow cast by the mountain and kept out of sight until the first hill hid her from view.

If she had looked back, she would have seen that the Shepherd was watching her leave. If she had been listening, she would have heard him calling her name.

Why doesn't the Shepherd ever bring us here? Briar wondered. The grass was sweet and crisp, and a clear stream flowed down from the mountain. The Shepherd said he knew what was best, but surely he was overlooking this place, with such fine places to graze and drink.

As dusk fell, she moved deeper into the foothills. Her plan was to sneak back to the pasture when morning came. The Shepherd shouldn't notice her if she returned just as the sheep were being let out of the pen for the day.

At that moment, the wind carried a tantalizing smell to her nostrils. She followed the scent eagerly around the curve of the next hill and stopped dead when she beheld the dump—her old home.

It was just as she remembered it. The goats were rooting out the tastiest scraps of garbage, leaping atop huge mounds of garbage, napping among garbage. She wanted to join them in the worst way, but she knew that sheep weren't allowed in the dump. Still, maybe there was garbage at the outskirts. Maybe, if she didn't exactly go in, then it would be all right.

There was a luscious puddle of sludge in the shadow of a tree to her right. She took a step forward and hesitated, her yearning locked in a battle of wills with her conscience. Then with reckless abandon she was racing toward it and plopping herself right in the center of the muck. She rolled in it, her hoofs in the air, and it felt so good. . .

Pleasure engulfed her and flamed inside her; she couldn't say for how long she remained in the puddle. Then a smooth voice spoke.

"I know you. A sheep from the Shepherd's flock. What are you doing here?"

Briar looked up, shaking her head to empty some of the slime out of her ears. "Who are you? I can't see anyone."

"I'm from around here," the voice replied vaguely. "But surely you are not?"

Briar didn't answer, but the owner of the voice seemed to know what she was up to.

"Ah, the Shepherd does not know you're here, hmm? You're fortunate, then. He does so hate the wayward sheep, you know."

"He does?" Briar blurted, suddenly fearful.

"Oh, indeed. Those who obey him are fine, but those who do not are spurned, turned away forever."

Briar was breathing fast now. She didn't think she could bear it if she weren't able to return to the flock. She wanted to be with the Shepherd all of the time.

"Come with me," the voice wheedled. "The Shepherd may be heartless, but I am not so cold as he."

"I want to be with the Shepherd," Briar almost wailed. "Who are you?"

"I am his enemy," the voice answered, suddenly cold and malevolent. "And if you won't join me, I'll make sure that you never rejoin the Shepherd."

Briar let out a bleat of terror as a huge wolf stepped out of the shadows. His white fangs gleamed against his matted black fur. Struggling to get away, she found to her horror that she was stuck in the mire.

"Oh, he-e-e-elp!" she brayed to the night. "Shepherd, please help me!"

"The Shepherd is far away," the wolf growled gleefully. "He doesn't know or care where you've gone."

"You are wrong, Wolf."

Briar bleated with joy—the Shepherd had come for her! He descended from the nearby hill and stepped calmly between her and the wolf. As the wolf tried to dart past him, he swung his staff upward. With a crack, it connected with the wolf's head and threw the creature back.

"I have laid down my life for the sheep, and no one can snatch them from my hand," the Shepherd declared. His voice rang with authority as he commanded, "Go." The wolf snarled with deepest hatred and fled into the dump.

The Shepherd watched him go, but all too soon his gaze came to rest on Briar. As she beheld the anger and sorrow in his eyes, she felt as though a mouthful of thistle had lodged in her throat.

"You disobeyed me," he said quietly. "I told you not to leave the flock. I told you to never return to the garbage."

"I'm sorry," she choked out, shutting her eyes tightly and feeling very small in front of him. The authority and power that radiated from him as he stood before her only served to remind her all the more forcefully of her own wretchedness. That his all-seeing eyes should look upon her in her filth was almost too much for her to bear. "Forgive me," she implored him as her head drooped in shame. "And please—please—don't leave me behind when you go. . ." She shuddered violently, knowing that she deserved to be abandoned here—how could she go on if he wouldn't take her back?

"Look at me, my little lamb, and know that what I am saying is true," the Shepherd commanded her gently. When she raised her head haltingly to meet his eyes, he said firmly, "I forgive those who feel their need for forgiveness and come to me for it. And I never leave my sheep behind."

He bent down and lifted her from the muck that had ensnared her so relentlessly. She laid her head tiredly on his shoulder, and would have been pleased to sleep in the bliss of his arms. The Shepherd, however, never missed an opportunity for a lesson.

"The Wolf is the keeper of the goats," he began to explain, "but he is not kind, as he pretends to be. The Wolf only wants to kill and destroy. There is nothing he would like better than to steal all my sheep from me, yet he cannot. Therefore he contents himself with tormenting the goats, although they do not realize that it is he who is causing them pain. He lies to the goats and keeps them in darkness, so that they hate the Shepherd just as the Wolf does. On the last day, the goats and the Wolf will go to the place of weeping and darkness, while the sheep rise to be with me in my glory."

The sun was beginning to color the sky with light. Briar could smell the grass and the flock and knew that she was nearly home. When the Shepherd set her down on the stream bank and stepped into the rushing water, she knew that her turn had finally come. To her surprise, she found that she no longer faced the bath grudgingly. With a smile, the Shepherd called to her. She took a deep breath and sprang down to him.

The cold water swept her legs out from under her and closed over her head, cutting off her baa of fear. Instantly she was lifted to the surface in the Shepherd's strong, scarred hands, hands which wiped the foul sludge away until she was as white as snow.

He lifted her dripping body high over his head and placed her on the bank before climbing out of the water himself. She immediately shook herself in a vain effort to get dry.

"Remember the things you have learned today," the Shepherd admonished her solemnly. "Remember that only I can truly make you clean. Remember the Wolf, and how he longs to lead you from me to destroy you." Briar trembled in fright—she would never forget the Wolf. Crouching down beside her, the Shepherd laid a comforting hand on her head. "And remember most of all," he murmured in her ear, "that the Wolf has no power over you when you belong to me."

(: The End :)

A/N: The story is meant to be symbolic, although not everything in it serves to symbolize something. Briar's name is based on my own name, which is a plant name from the Heath family. The story is heavily based on John 10, where Jesus preaches about His flock (those who believe in Him) that he is shepherd over. When the wolf attacks the sheep, the hired hand runs away because he doesn't really care about the sheep. But the "good shepherd" (John 10:14) will protect them, even to the point of laying down his life for the sheep (John 10:15). Actually, I'm not sure exactly what the wolf was supposed to represent, and I thought of Satan. But I might not be right. Anyhow, please contact me with questions, comments, and anything you think I did wrong...