"Freedom Farm" Chapter 7

At sunrise, the pasture filled with animals. Sheep, goats, and cows crowded close, even the chickens clustering at the fence, their feathers dark with last night’s dew. Dust hung in the shallow bowls between hoofprints, swirling when the wind caught it, then settling back in stripes across the clipped grass.

They came for the emergency meeting. No one called it by name, but everyone felt the weight of it. Old Shearson, stiff-legged, led the march from the barn. Simone and Whitney flanked the lambs, whispering instructions and warnings as they herded them into the crowd. The twins arrived next, Bruce and Frankie already arguing over who could see better from the front row. Fancy Pants moved slow, careful not to bump his glasses on a neighbor’s horn, while Janet hugged the outer edge, ears up, eyes scanning for trouble.

At the far end of the pasture, Boss Rudd stood on a boulder, orange fleece lit like a torch against the pale sky. His bandana shone blood-red in the cold light. He stamped a hoof, once, and the crowd rippled with anticipation.

“Animals of North Star!” he bleated, voice as sharp as a plow blade. “We face a grave threat.”

A shiver moved through the ranks. Marvin cleared his throat, but kept his mouth shut. Simone rolled her eyes but stayed quiet. Even the goats, restless and unimpressed by most things, stopped their chewing to listen.

Rudd’s gaze swept the assembly. “This is not rumor. This is not gossip from the chicken yard or stories dreamed up by the weak.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a confidential rumble. “This is real. The alpacas are plotting.”

He let the words hang. The crowd looked at each other, confused. A chicken blinked. Marvin finally spoke, but only to his neighbor: “What’s an alpaca?”