Moon's Herald

Chapter 1: Happy Days

My name is Foxfire, or just Foxie for short. It's kind of a weird name, I know, but I like it. My humans made it up for me because my fur is a bright orange-red like a fox's pelt, and the farmer used to say that sunlight makes it shine like fire. I don't know if that's really true, but it's a nice thought – I mean, I'd like to imagine my fur's that pretty.

Anyway, just the thought that my human family cared enough to put so much thought into my name makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside that I love it no matter how weird it is. Hell, they probably could've called me something really dumb like Princess or Fluffy (yuck – WAY too cute for me) and I still would've liked it. . . . Okay, maybe not, but you get my point. They were just so good to me.

The farmer found me abandoned and wandering around in his cornfield as a pup. I was starving and weak and I had nothing at all to offer anyone – I couldn't even remember who I was or how I got there – but the humans took me in anyway. They gave me a great home and new memories to fill the void, so I'll always be grateful to them for that.

Damn, I miss them so much. Because it didn't last that long, you see. I thought I'd found a home for the rest of my life, but it seems that idea was doomed from the beginning. Oh, things were great for a while, but then weird stuff started to happen. It all started during the heat wave that suddenly came up one spring, when it seemed like summer had decided to come months early. If it hadn't been for that, I'd still be home on the farm and none of the other stuff would've happened. I wouldn't have traveled miles and miles for nothing and I wouldn't be all alone right now. I know it all happened for a very important reason and I'm needed now, but it still seems so pointless sometimes and I wish . . .

Well, never mind that. It's too late for wishes, and now I'm just getting ahead of myself. Back to what I was saying.

I spent all my happy puppy days on that farm, well into my third year, I guess; I don't really know when I was born, so I've never been sure of my age. The farm was kind of small, but very cozy. There was a two-storied, whitewashed house where I lived with the farmer, his wife, and their young son and baby daughter. There were also a barn, stables, a big corral, a little pond, a chicken coop, and lots of fields for growing crops and pasturing animals. There were other areas and buildings, too, but I wasn't allowed in them and so I don't know what they were for. And all around the property was a dense forest whose many trees changed their leaves' colors in the fall, making a beautiful view for anyone who cared to look.

Things on the farm were always pretty busy, but for the first year or two, I didn't do anything important because I was too small. I spent all my time sleeping or playing with the little boy, Michiru. We had lots of fun and sometimes got in big trouble, like that time with the skunk (I've hate the smell of tomato juice ever since), but once we got older, we both had to start working. For Michiru, that meant things like milking cows or pitching hay, but my job was a lot more exciting. I got to be a sheepdog!

Sure, I made a fool of myself at first, tripping all over myself and stuff, but after almost a year of training, I became a pro at it and was given the responsibility of herding the whole flock of thirty sheep between the pasture and their pen every day. Don't get me wrong – it was hard work! But it was still fun and I loved it; I still miss it sometimes.

The day the weird things started happening, I knew I was going to have my work cut out for me. I was about two and a half years old then, and the time of year was mid-spring, with mild weather expected for a few months yet. The sudden bout of hot weather that happened that year was something no one on the farm had ever seen before, and it caused a panic. The farmer feared that summer was starting early, and he had only just begun to plant the crops. And more importantly in my case, the sheep weren't shorn yet. If they kept their thick winter wool too long, they would overheat and become sick and irritable. The farmer tried his best to speed up all the farm operations, which would mean a busy day of herding for me.

On that day, which was one of the hottest in the heat wave, I thought I could understand how the sheep felt, since my own winter coat was barely half-shed and I felt like passing out in the overbearing sunshine. I hid in the dirty, musty crawl space under the front porch of the house all morning while I waited for the farmer to call me, so desperate for the cool shade that I was willing to ignore all the spiders and other creepy-crawlies that were skittering around under there.

Finally, I heard a sharp whistle cut through the humid air, and the farmer' voice yelling, "Foxfire! Here, girl!" I scrambled to my feet and darted out of my hiding place and into the yard, shaking off any unwanted passengers that might be clinging to my fur. The farmer and Michiru, who was then about fourteen, came down the stairs, the boy crying, "Hey, Foxie! I've got a treat for you, if you can find it."

It was a favorite game of ours – Michiru hid a dog treat somewhere on him, usually in a pocket or a shoe or something, and I had to find it before he'd let me eat it. I usually had to knock him down to find it because he kept pushing me away so I couldn't sniff him. But I was strong and had a good nose, so I always won in the end.

While my friend and I romped around the yard, glad to have this increasingly rare chance to play, the farmer gathered up the tools he'd need, including the shears for cutting the wool and some kind of metal tube that's apparently used for giving medicine to animals. Then he said to us, "Come on now, you two clowns. We've got a lot of work to do."

"Okay, Dad," said Michiru, laughing and pushing me off him. He stood up and hooked his fingers under my chain collar, took the burlap sacks his father gave him under one arm, and went through the gate toward the sheep pen. I let the boy lead me, chomping all the while on the dog treat I'd found in the top of his sock. The farmer followed with the rest of the equipment, closing the gate behind him.


It was as hot as ever at the sheep pen. I could hear the disgruntled bleats when we were still a long way off and I knew the sheep were already in a bad mood, much as the other farm animals seemed to be. As we crossed the dusty yard, dry dirt billowing up in clouds around us, I heard the angry whinnying of a new horse being broken in by farmhands over in the corral. The men were yelling at the horse and at each other, the heat making them irritable. The farmer called out to admonish them as he opened the pen's gate to let us through.

The sheep pen was large, as it would have to be to hold thirty sheep comfortably, and it had a single tree in one corner, under which all the sheep were huddled. The farmer and Michiru put down their burdens and set up everything they would need while I sat surveying the sheep and panting. The heat was already getting to me again, but I had to ignore it and focus on the task ahead.

They would probably send me for the ram first, to get him over with. He was dangerous under any circumstances, but he'd be twice as likely to attack in the mood he was in now. I watched the old ram cropping grass on the outer edge of the flock and tried to plan my strategy until the farmer said, "Here, Foxie. Drink up and we'll get started." He poured water from his canteen into a tin bowl for me, and I took a few laps before going to sit by his side to show I was ready to work.

As soon as the farmer whistled the first command, I was off like a shot, digging my claws into the ground and propelling myself toward the sheep at the other end of the pen. That was my favorite part of herding – the running, I mean. I've always been the kind who likes to be up and doing something; the more fast-paced, the better. I loved the feel of the ground whizzing by beneath my paws, the wind whistling through my fur, and even the way everything around me got all blurry from the speed. It's what I imagined flying would be like, and that's why I loved my job so much.

As I approached the flock, all the ewes and lambs began to bleat in fear and cluster together, preparing to bolt. I ignored all but the ram as I arced around behind him, cutting him off from the fleeing ewes even as he tried to charge me. I darted out of his way, growling at him and glaring into his eyes with a piercing stare from my yellow ones. That was my favorite trick – the stare could often paralyze animals, and the ram was no exception. He whirled around for another charge, but found himself frozen when he met my gaze.

I bounded toward the ram, teeth bared and a growl sounding in my throat. He held his ground uncertainly for maybe two seconds, but then turned and hurtled off down the length of the fence. I followed, keeping close behind him and nipping at his heels a little to scare him, while the farmer whistled out when to change direction or back off a little.

Once I got the ram close enough, the farmer threw a lasso around its neck and, using this and his own body, wrestled the bleating sheep to the ground and restrained it. I watched passively as the farmer sheared the ram, clipped its hooves, and forced the medicine tube into its mouth. The ram, in no mood to cooperate, struggled through the whole thing, but the farmer finally finished and released the animal to let it rejoin the flock. Michiru picked up all the shorn wool and stuffed it into the sacks he'd brought. Knowing it was almost my turn again, I trotted to my water bowl, took a few laps, and then sat down by the farmer and waited for him to send me for the next sheep.

We passed the whole afternoon that way – me bringing the sheep to the farmer one by one and him shearing, clipping, and medicating them while Michiru gathered the wool. The ram was less vindictive than before, but I still had to dodge at least one charge from him every time I went out for another sheep. None of the ewes or lambs struggled too much, and we were done with our work by the start of sunset.

"Well, that'll do, Foxfire," said the farmer, giving me the signal that we were finally finished. "That'll do."

I immediately flopped down next to my water dish, exhausted. Sure, I loved running, but even I had my limits. The farmer patted my head and poured more water for me, and then he called over two farmhands to help Michiru with the bags of wool.

"Hey, Dad," said Michiru suddenly as he tied up one of the bags with twine, "the sheep haven't been out to pasture today, have they?"

The farmer paused in tying his own bag. "No . . . no, they haven't. But now it's dinner time and your mom will be waiting, and I've still got to check on the planting, and your new horse . . ." He started rubbing his forehead as if it ached. "Damned unseasonable weather's completely thrown me off."

"Oh no, it's okay," the boy replied quickly. "I'm sure they've got enough grass in here for one day. Or, if you like, . . . I suppose Foxie and I could take them out there for an hour or so."

I listened to this exchange from my place on the ground, groaning inwardly because I knew I was headed for more work, but at the same time feeling sorry for the farmer and wanting to help. Okay, fine, I thought, what's one more hour? I pushed myself up, shook my fur free of loose grass, and went over to sit by the farmer. I was tired, but it wouldn't kill me to keep going just a little longer. And besides, it was the farmer who usually went out to the pasture with me – if Michiru was going now, then this was something special.

The farmer, seeing that I seemed up for the job, smiled down at me with those clear blue eyes that had little laugh-lines in the corners, and said, "Well, I guess that'll be alright. But just for an hour. And make sure you keep your eyes open. Guarding thirty sheep is a big job for anyone to handle alone, even a great shepherd like our little Foxie."

He patted my head once more and then gathered up the tools. As he and the farmhands left the pen with the tools and wool, the farmer called back, "Be careful, son. We'll expect you back in an hour."

"No problem, Dad," Michiru called back. As soon as his father was out of earshot, the boy ran over to the old tree, causing the startled sheep resting under it to run off on thundering hooves to another corner of the pen. At the tree, Michiru picked up a fallen branch and stood it up on one end; it stood about shoulder-high to him and was thick enough to be grasped comfortably in his fist. Then he ripped off a few leaves and twigs that were still clinging to the branch and, seeming satisfied, came back over to me with his new walking stick. I thought I saw a mischievous gleam in his brown eyes.

"So, Foxie," he said, leaning down to me and grinning, "are you ready to have some fun, just like the old days?"

I barked happily and jumped up, slapping the ground with my front paws and waving my tail in the air, a dog's signal to play. Maybe I could wake myself up a little for this after all.

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A/N: Thank you, reviewers! I didn't think anyone would say such nice things about just the prologue! Hope you like the rest as much. So anyhoo, there's your intro to Foxie and her life so far. I hope it didn't suck because I really did try hard. What do you think will happen in the field? I'm not telling, so read on to find out!