Sheep's Sound Crossword Novels & Stories

I noted the eye roll she gave me but ultimately just played it off. "Hear my sobbing ,find me weeping ,move past my tears and enter my heart," It did not take a genius to realize that the rhyme was a riddle, which proved to be a challenge to solve... I definitely underestimated it. There is something about trespassing on another creatures territory that makes my wolf's anxiety escalate. We all just stood there trying to catch sound and walking around to see if there were any other clues, but nothing could be seen or heard. Far off in the distance, I could hear the sound of water gushing and roughly hitting rocks.

(SHEILA'S POV) Feeling utterly drained, both physically and mentally, I quietly made my way up to the second floor of the barn, a familiar retreat where I sought solace in the past few days. Nestled on a pile of hay beneath a makeshift cover out of jute sack, I found a semblance of comfort. The familiar sounds of cows lowing and sheep bleating acted as a balm to my troubled spirit. Unexpectedly, amidst the symphony of animal noises, I detected the rustle of footsteps. Initially, I assumed it was the old farmer and his nephew going about their evening chores. But as the sound drew nearer, I realized that wasn't the case.

She doesn’t say anything else, but her fingers move over the iPad in her hand, typing something I don’t even want to read. I hear an amused chuff from one of the wolves. Maria, of course. Bitch. Suddenly, the signal is given, a sharp whistling sound that has me covering my ears and squeezing my eyes shut for a moment. Wolves really do have shitty hearing in comparison to me, and unfortunately it works in their favour today.

River shouts from across the field, where one of the sheep has decided that the vegetable patch is its new home. “I’m coming!” I yell back. The second sheep makes a sharp turn, nearly colliding with me before darting away again, absolutely determined to make this as difficult as possible. “Why are they so fast?” Rain groans somewhere behind me, still half-covered in mud. “Because you’re slow,” Sienna calls back, not even looking up from her recording. One of the sheep—a particularly aggressive-looking one with horns, I’d name that one Lucifer—decides to test the fence integrity by ramming it repeatedly with its head.

The mist clinging to the valley floor wasn’t weather; it was a shroud. It had been sitting on my land for three days, thick and smelling of wet copper and old, forgotten graves. The sheep had stopped grazing on the second day. Now, they stood in the center of the paddock, a dense, pulsating knot of wool and bone, their heads turned inward. They didn't make a sound—no bleating, no hoof-clatter. Just that rhythmic, wet clicking that seemed to vibrate from beneath the grass.

Well, that was the plan until she heard the sound. It was soft. The kind of soft that was trying too hard to be nothing. Footsteps, she thought, but slow and uneven, like someone moving carefully in the dark. She lay still and listened and told herself it was nothing. Old buildings made sounds. Ashveil was full of wolves who kept strange hours. Just as she tried to push it out of her mind, she heard the faint sound again, closer this time. Against the better judgement she thought she had, Alira sat up.

Psyche said to the disembodied voice. "When the noontide has quelled the sun's heat and the serene river-breeze has lulled the sheep to rest, you shall be able to conceal yourself under that very tall plane tree. Then as soon as the sheep relax their fury and their manners grow gentle, you must shake the foliage in the neighboring grove, and you shall find golden wool off the briers in the pasture."

She hesitated, her eyes wide as if she could see the sounds if she concentrated hard enough. This time, the sound did repeat and take shape. As it collided on the edge of her hearing over and over, it grew closer, louder. She recognized the sound of rocks grating against each other. The cadence of the sound was so familiar, the rhythm made with slow footsteps, approaching. Someone was walking through the landscaping rocks lining the perimeter of her new house, just above the window well that loomed beside her.

The nearby health monitor emitted a frantic alarm. Shaking her head, Harper attempted to regain her composure, fighting to stay lucid. But then, in the midst of her disarrayed mind, she began to hear a haunting sound—whimpering and wailing, like the mournful cry of a wolf. The sound echoed in Harper's mind, piercing her soul with a sense of sorrow. It was as if the wails were coming from within her, resonating with the depths of her being.

the second boy added. Kinsely couldn't communicate with them even if he wanted to so bad to tell them how cowardly it was to set up a trap intended for a deer. Wolves hunt. The shortest one leaned down to him and flicked his nose hard. Asher snarled at him and bared his fangs. "Watcha gonna say, princess?" He cupped his ear and turned it to him. "What is it? I can't hear! Hahahaha!!!" They all laughed like a bunch of lunatics. Kinsley swallowed his anger as his wolf struggled to free his paw. The four spineless boys walked away after throwing rocks at him.