The Lamb Heist

Every summer festival ends with the capture of the summer lamb — the last lamb born the previous spring, which is then released, captured, butchered, and eaten in a townwide banquet. Eager to leave his mark on the town before he departs, and leave a story people will talk about for years to come, Renard conceives a plan. He breaks into the lamb’s pen, steals it, and marches to the bog at the border of town.

In that bog, upon an isle of dirt, there is a massive, dead tree. Renard will throw the summer lamb up into the tree, to leave the townsfolk beholding at a perplexing spectacle that will never again be replicated, and, even if regarded initially as odd, will be remembered with intrigue and laughter. The image in Renard’s head is perfect. This will be his goodbye to the town.

When he comes to the bog, he is surprised to find it still wet. The sodden ground here usually dries over the summer, which is when Renard typically visits this place, but it is still too early in the season for that. The mud sucks at his boots when he steps in, and an abrupt feeling of danger strikes him. This bog goes deeper than it looks. Heeding this feeling, Renard backs out of the bog to consider.

Perhaps it would be better to throw the lamb onto the town hall instead… but as the lamb struggles in his grip, Renard finds himself committed to assure it he’ll get it on that tree, and follow through with his original plan. He scales a small outcropping over the bog and, despite his gut’s growing anxiety, throws the lamb into the tree. It yells and twists, but stays securely stuck in a junction of branches.

Renard’s slight sense of accomplishment immediately drowns under unexplainable trepidation and fear. He flees home to his bed, as if to deny that anything happened.

Unfortunately, things did happen. While having breakfast the next morning, Renard’s family is visited by townfolk who have found the lamb and want Isen’s help to retrieve it. Isen agrees to investigate. Renard mocks the insinuation that a sheep could get into a tree, and even jokingly accuses the visitors of lying about it — then finds himself perplexed as to why he made such a pointless accusation. Fixing his bravado, he joins the group to investigate the scene.

Indeed, the lamb is still in the tree. Townsfolk are gathered around, staring up at it — but the overwhelming attitude here isn’t one of fascination or awe. Rather, beyond a thin veil of mystification, everyone seems worried or peeved at the interruption to the festival. Unease spikes in Renard as he quietly steps back from the crowd. Isen, having inspected the situation, takes his first step into the bog.

Framing it as a taunt, Renard interrupts to advise Isen he put down boards before entering the bog. Heeding this, Isen lays down bales of hay to form a bridge across the bog — which does go deeper than it looks, making the bridge vital — and crosses to the island with the tree.

Slowly, Isen climbs the tree. The dead branches creak whenever he shifts his weight, but with vigilant patience and care, he winches the lamb out from between the branches and onto land again. As he tosses it safely back to the onlooking crowd, Renard releases a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. The crowd claps and cheers.

Renard sighs, turning away, and again feels that impulse to keep walking until he’s left town for Sebilles. Probably, this is the best result things could’ve reached anyway. Even if nobody will bother to acknowledge Renard for it, he did get to make Isen look cool. Renard begins to march away.

But Isen is not done with the tree. He again climbs up, this time to retrieve the garland the summer lamb wears, which got caught on a more distant branch. He leans out over the thinning twigs, stretches out his fingers, reaching for that garland…

—CRACK.

The branch Isen is sitting on collapses. Screams arise from the onlookers as Isen goes plummeting down and lands, with a ‘flump’, face-first in the thick, wet bog. Renard turns, horrified at the sight of Isen’s back heaving, futilely, to pull out of the bog, but the thick and viscous mud holds a solid grip on his face. Renard’s body moves on its own, yelling, screaming at others to get out of the way, shoves them aside as he scrambles over the hay bales, pulls and pulls at Isen…

…Even though, poisoned by the water, his body already lays limp.