Blackbelly Sheep Novels & Stories

Aiden guesses, not that it needs much guesswork. “A ghost,” I nod. “His horse is a stallion. Blackmarsh has mares. There have been foals that we don’t have another explanation for. They’re not ghosts, they’re perfectly normal horses as far as anyone can tell. They’re very, very good horses. Promises Kept is one of them, Keppy for short. He’s one of Katie’s competition horses.” “Ghosts can do that?” He sounds dubious. I’d never have guessed it was possible either, if I hadn’t seen the evidence. “What about Bellmouth, does he have puppies?”

The expression on Xyrielle’s face also instantly changed, and she could not help but stand up in unison along with her few friends as they looked toward the big black steel cage. “Mr. Babel, is there still something else inside that big cage?” Xyrielle asked Mr. Babel, who was next to her. Mr. Babel’s eyelids twitched slightly. “Yes, Miss Xyrielle. There is a huge black bull inside the cage. That is the only bull with a white horn, and it looks a little strange and eerie. That is the reason why it has not been released yet!” As Mr. Babel spoke, he hurriedly used his body to block Xyrielle’s body.

Zephyr nodded. The mounts looked to be good ones, but from what he observed, they did not seem to be any much stronger, more wild animals than bred beasts. “Wait a minute,” just as Zephyr was about to leave, a herd of black horses appeared within vision, each possessed a black horn on their heads. “Shadowmeres!”

“We just heard he was selling some interesting wool and thought we would check it out.” Sighing, Mary looked at her peaceful lambs and lowered her voice. “You would need a reservation to get any of his wool,” she shook her head. “It’s probably easier for you to find black wool that had been dyed instead. The stubborn old shepherd refuses to let anyone else near his flock and is extremely foul-tempered. He claims that black sheep are superior to all other sheep and would go to extreme lengths to breed and obtain the blackest sheep into his flock.”

“I raise them for their wool, soft aren’t they?” The pups exchanged glances, subconsciously clutching the creature’s fuzzy wool for comfort. Paisley, intrigued by the idea that the tall sheep might belong to someone, peeked out from behind the llama’s front leg. “Do they have names?” “Some of them do.” The man confirmed, sitting on the ground now that the children weren’t actively running away. “That one doesn’t though - you could give it one.” He offered. The pups exchanged another series of serious looks. “Really?” Riley questioned suspiciously.

I’m trying to figure out what I saw. There. Again. Then something large and dark moving through the undergrowth at the edge of the woods. Then it breaks into the open. A massive dog, easily eighty or ninety pounds, with matted fur and visible ribs showing through its coat. Some kind of shepherd mix based on the shape of its head and ears. It stops at the tree line, about a hundred yards away, staring at us, at the sheep. “Everyone stay calm,” I say quietly. “Don’t make sudden movements.”

“Yeah, you can be lucky. Our friendship wouldn’t have survived this, if you had married that other woman, and left Eden to deal with this on her own. I would’ve made your life miserable.” Winchester grinned. “If she’d just talked to me from the beginning, there never would’ve been an engagement. She had this notion in her head that she didn’t want me to give up my life. What she doesn’t know is that she is my life.” “Do you remember when we were 11 or 12, we used to talk about raising meat sheep?” “Yeah, I remember.” “The Shropshire is a dual yield sheep. Wool and meat. The land running adjacent to this property is up for sale. We could buy it, build winter shelters for the sheep, and let th

Giovanni said, stroking the head of the shepherd sitting at his feet. "These dogs come from bloodlines that crossed over from Sicily with our ancestors. They have an uncanny ability to recognize Belmontes and are fiercely loyal. Give him a pat. He'll be delighted." The shepherd with its chin on Eugene's knee made a soft whining sound, as if it understood. Eugene hesitated, then stroked the shepherd's head. Unlike his chubby cat, this was a very large head. The shepherd wagged its tail happily and blinked its eyes. Seeing this, the other shepherd ambled over and rested its chin on Eugene's other knee. Unable to ignore this one, Eugene used both hands to stroke the heads of both shepherds. The

I used to be jealous of women whose husbands cheated, at least they were being touched. Mine barely looked at me anymore. Then one night he walked into our penthouse with his mistress beside him and calmly informed me she was pregnant. I wish I could say I handled it with dignity….I didn’t. Instead, I got drunk, disappeared upstairs at a masquerade gala and let a complete stranger drag sounds out of me that even I didn’t know I could make. I never saw his face, but now….he’s everywhere around me, looking at me like that night belongs to him too. And the more my husband tries to pull me back, the more dangerous the stranger becomes.

A few seconds passed between us, and nothing happened until a loud shriek was heard. "What is that?" I asked as the cry came again. "A Jaw. It is a dangerous bird, and only one bite paralyzes you until you are dead," he said, going for a heavy sledgehammer I had not seen until now. "You must find somewhere and hide. It has come for your pup." I stared at MOLART. Did he care for me right now? I thought he wanted to eat my baby, too. Was he saving my pup to eat it later?