Old sheep herding dog doing what he does best.

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With a yawn, he set out across the dewy grass, scanning the field of grazing sheep. It was a quiet evening, the only sounds being the soft bleats of the sheep and the occasional birdsong overhead.

The treeline in the distance remained still and silent, yet he never let his guard down completely. Experience had taught him that danger could strike at any moment, especially when overlooking a flock. With a good sniff, everything was normal, as he expected it to be. He smelled the scent of grass. Sheep. Birds. More sheep. Even more grass, if you squint. Nothing new.

With another sweep of his eyes across the field, Samhain continued forward until he reached his favorite spot--an old oak tree overlooking most of the land where he liked meditating and observing. It's a lovely, calming spot. Good to be here, he's grateful to have calmer days.

Settling down beneath its sprawling branches with his back resting against its trunk, Samhain finally allowed himself a moment's respite. He closed his eyes briefly as he felt the warmth of the setting sun soaking into his fur and skin.

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