Wednesday

The ewe snarls, short, dull teeth on display for the entirety of COUNCIL to see. "You have taken my children, you have had them slaughtered. For what? Why must you do this to me?"
"THEY ARE LIVESTOCK."
"And what does that make me?"
The gaze that bores through her hide feels as if it's smiling. She wails, grief overflowing as she is forced to watch as another flock is taken away from her, because she knows they will never return. She bites, this time, when they come. She sinks her teeth in, surprised at the lack of resistance. They don't come back for a long while. Her lips pull back to reveal sharpened canines. "You are playing god," she howls, "you are unfair."
"WE ARE GOD," is the resonate response, "EVERYTHING WE DO IS FAIR." The next time they come, the ewe finds herself bound by golden chain, hot as iron. She screams, because she knows her flock is doomed. She knows that they will never again see the sun rise, nor feel the grass beneath their hooves.
The chains crumble, and she feels flesh beneath her teeth once again. This, she knows, is right.

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