The sheep knew no better, having never encountered a creature like that before. Bleating mildly as they milled about, tails flicking as they grazed grass or lay grouped together chewing their cud, they were oblivious to the danger.
Fable wasn't.
The large, shaggy sheepdog, curled up next to two sheep and blending with the herd almost seamlessly, picked up the predator's scent and exploded into action. Breaking off from the herd and barking loudly, she raced toward the creature, even as the sheep startled and began to bleat their alarm, frightened and confused but not sure where to go or where the danger was.
Tessa, sprawled on her back in the high grass, had been nodding off when the commotion jerked her to wakefulness. With a gasp, she scrambled to her feet and scooped up her crook, grass sticking out of her hair. What in Ansgar's name...?
That was when she saw the cat, huge and black, larger even than Fable--though Fable, fearless as ever, didn't seem to realize that.