The shepherd had used these peaks near the towering castle, since the dragon had been dealt with. His habit was to guide them to the pasture before leaving them overnight to feed.

As he trekked out this morning, a light drizzle fell upon him.

“I just hope that the ruddy rain does not return again.”

He ignored the slight wetness and clambered amongst the rocks until he spied his valuable animals.

“They seem peaceful enough,” he muttered.

He walked over slowly and suddenly noticed something strange. Two of the animals were lying upon their sides and definitely not moving.

“Oh I hope nothing has happened.”

He ran over and stared at the brutal scene. The animals were very dead. Dried blood hung around the lower wool coat, and entrails littered the grass.

“Their stomachs have been ripped out. I’d better get my flock indoors again.”

It took him a few hours to pen them before entering the castle and warning the monarch.

“Time for din dins?” Charly asked the spectral cat as she simply stared and purred happily.

Grant sat at the table thinking.

“How is she?”

“Christine is okay ta. How is your leg by the way?”

“Stings like a *****. It’ll heal though.

“Glad to hear it.”

Charly placed a fresh piece of fish inside the bowl as Christine tried to feed.

“Strange this you know,” Charly said. “Her appetite is as good as ever.”

Grant smiled as the door was rapped.

“Another day of stress,” he muttered before answering it.

“The king asks for your company sir.”

“See you later,” Charly told the cat before following his friend to
the king’s chambers.

When they entered, the shepherd had completed his unusual account.

“Morning captain.”

“Morning to you sire.”

“This shepherd has lost two of his sheep to some kind of predator.
Would you mind looking into it?”

“I would welcome the change sire.”

They soon found themselves upon the hilly pasture examining the terrible wounds.

“Could it have been wolves?” Grant asked.

“There have been no wolves here for at least ten years now,” the shepherd informed them.

“No wolves you say?” Charly asked.

“Not in these times.”

“Hmm...The wounds do indeed indicate a predator but there are no bite marks at the throat. If wolves had done this you would expect that.”

“So what’s your conclusion?” Charly asked.

Charly scratched his head.

“I’m not sure you know. I’ve ruled out wild dogs as well.”

“That does not leave much room for manoeuvre,” Grant pointed out.

“Let’s have a look around eh?” Charly suggested.

“Just what are we looking for,” the worried shepherd asked.

“Tracks my man. This drizzle has been on all night you see. There
should at least be tracks.”

“Oh I see.”

As they peered around the field, Grant took his friend aside.

“So what killed the sheep?”

“I’m not sure yet but animal attack is clearly out of the question.”

The shepherd suddenly shouted and they dashed over.

“Look here sir. Over there too.”

As Charly knelt by the tracks Grant said, “You know something mate.
They look terribly familiar.”

Charly glanced up.

“A little too familiar. They seem to go that way. Come on then.”

He scanned the wet ground as the tracks crossed the field back toward the rocks.

“Not a bear I suppose,” Grant asked nervously.

“I very much doubt that. Though I accept the tracks are similar.”

The tracks stopped upon the stones and Charly sighed deeply.

“The trail has gone dead I’m afraid. Look around eh?”

They split up to maximize the search area. As Charly scanned the surrounding stones, he saw what looked like an enlarged foxhole.

“Come over here you two.”

“What have you found sir?” the good shepherd asked.

“What does that look like Grant?”

“A fox hole of course, but ruddy large if it is.”

Charly knelt down and peeked inside.

“It goes one hell of a long way. I’m going inside to look.”

Grant grabbed him.

“Now don’t be daft mate. What if you run into whatever it is?”

Charly grinned up.

“I’ll try to persuade it not to kill me.”

Charly crawled inside as his friend shook his head.

“I’d better follow I suppose.”

The fearful shepherd shook his head.

“I will stay here. Guard the entrance if you like.”

“That’ll do just fine mate,” Grant said disappearing into the
warren.”

He caught up with his friend as he crawled into an open space.

“It’s a cave Grant.”

As his friend stood, he surveyed their warm surroundings.

The floor was littered with stalagmites while stalactites grew from
the rocky roof.

“We are not dealing with a fox Grant.”

His friend saw him draw his sword and did likewise.

“Let us hope it’s not hungry then.”

Charly grinned at him.

“You go left and I’ll go right. We’ll meet up at the top end.”

He watched as his friend set off before he moved away. The cave rose
gently as the rocks grew harsher around him. He spotted what looked like simple stone tools and bent down to examine them.

“Now this makes a lot of sense,” he muttered.

A sudden growl from above made him glance up. He suddenly saw a hair covered man with long talon like nails staring at him wildly. Before he could react, the animal was upon him.

The sword was dashed aside, as Charly was lifted off his feet.

“Can’t we talk about this?”

The animal growled and hurled him against the nearest rock. Despite the light armour, Charly was a little dazed by the blow. As he shook his head, the animal picked up a boulder and seemed intent to smash his brains with it.

“What a ruddy place to die,” Charly muttered in final despair.

The animal lurched forward and suddenly stopped. As Charly looked, he saw a bloody sword point sticking from his stomach.

The wild man staggered, dropping the rock harmlessly before crashing to the ground. A shocked Grant stood looking.

“He gave me no choice. It was either you or him.”

Charly stood and patted his shoulder.

“I know mate. You have my gratitude.”

Grant stared at the still body.

“Did he live here?”

“I found stone tools nearby. He must have been half crazed. Or perhaps a throwback to our early ancestors.”

Charly paused.

“Whatever the truth mate, he’s well out of it now.”
...
The final episode was written first and follows shortly...