Reblogged from Jane Dougherty Writes:

This Winter Solstice story is one I included in my blog post for the Long and Short Reviews Winter Blogfest. You can read the whole post here, and if you leave a comment you have a chance of winning a digital copy of ‘Revelation’.

Sue’s Thursday photo prompt is the perfect illustration, so what better excuse could there be for posting the story twice?

Yes, I know, it’s an awful pun, ‘wether’ and ‘sheepish’ but I decided to leave it in.

Long ago, in the land of the Northmen, as the longest night of the year was beginning, Gudrun was sent to bring in the last of the wethers. He was the biggest, wildest of the curly-horned sheep and a right royal pain in the arse. Gudrun wrapped her thick cloak tight about her and trudged through the snow up to the oak copse where she suspected he would be, gorging himself on the last of the acorns. She called and whistled, more to keep the wild beasts away than with much hope that the daft sheep would come.

The copse was empty. The wind blew flurries of snowflakes between the tree trunks and Gudrun cursed. Beyond the oaks was empty heathland until the fjord dropped away abruptly, and the sea crashed dark and wicked below. It would be just like the gormless creature to have fallen over the edge and be stuck on a ledge. Sure enough, after a quick search, the setting sun through the clouds along the horizon showed her the wether’s neat prints. Snow clouds hid the sun, and the wind whined, and in its voice, she heard another sound—someone calling faintly.

Continue reading at Jane Dougherty Writes