Jokes aside, why is that scent so powerful? Does it usually release such a strong scent? As Lin looked around, he noticed many goats walking toward the pen. Even those who hadn’t cared about the smell and had kept eating at first were now heading in that direction. "Guess this is how romance works in the goat kingdom," Lin thought, a little amused.
He didn’t waste time. Now that more goats had gone toward the pen, it would be even harder to get close, so he started walking toward the grove.
As he approached, Lin was surprised to find more trees than he had expected. Vines were tangled everywhere, twisting around trunks and crawling across the ground. Looking closer, he realized the grove formed a kind of circle, with a small clearing in the middle where the vines had grown so thick it was hard to see inside. "Can goats even eat vines?" he wondered. Deciding to try his luck, he took a bite.
Almost immediately, he felt like he might vomit. The taste was terrible—bitter and sharp. Coughing up the foul saliva, he slumped beneath the shade of a tree. "Sigh, goat life isn’t what I thought it would be." He glared at the system. You’re intentionally making this harder, aren’t you? Google seaʀᴄh novel•fire.net
Lin gazed across the distant plain, where lush green grass shimmered. Scattered goats grazed here and there, yes, there are still goats, some butting heads in half-hearted skirmishes over a doe, others simply munching in peace. A few bucklings practiced clumsy leaps and mock charges, their little horns barely more than nubs. "I’ve got a long way to go before I become a full goat,
Lin glanced at the timer, 1:30. That’s how much time he had left. After that, he’d be gone. Lin let out a sigh. "I’m just overthinking, making my life harder. As a goat, I shouldn’t overthink so much," he told himself. He decided to take a ten-minute break, then start eating. Right now, he was overwhelmed with the urge to eat everything he saw, and he figured this hunger would help him swallow even the grass covered in pee and poo, so it won’t get spread.
Then, faint and muffled, he heard it, a soft, hiccupping sob, barely louder than the rustle of leaves.
He paused, ears flicking at the faint, broken sob that trembled through the undergrowth. The air was thick with the scent of crushed clover, wildflowers, and something sour—fear, maybe, or the sharp tang of old tears. Lin’s hooves pressed into the cool, damp earth, the chill seeping up his legs and making him shiver.
He crept forward, brambles pulling at his fur until he found a hollow beneath a bush. The shadows were thick here, with dappled green light. A yearling sat in the gloom, dust clinging to his coat, ribs visible with each shaky breath. The kid’s eyes were swollen and red, his nose wet, and the air around him carried a salty, animal musk.
"Do goats even cry?" Lin wondered, nostrils flaring as he picked up the scent of fear and loneliness. Maybe they do. Or maybe I’m just lucky enough to find the one goat that does. He remembered the mission: make a friend. Easier said than done... but maybe this is my chance.
Most of the herd called him "outsider," their voices always a little too loud, their stares lingering a little too long. Even the one goat who’d shown him kindness had vanished without telling him the real reason, all he told him was he shouldn’t make blunder like he did in the past and he should stay hided and become strong. "Maybe this kid knows. Or maybe he just needs someone to listen."
Lin hesitated, the sight tugging at something raw inside him. The yearling’s sides quivered, and every breath sounded like it hurt. "Poor kid. I should help. Or at least try. Maybe I can use this for the mission, but... damn, he looks miserable."
He cleared his throat, aiming to keep his voice soft, gentle, and as non-threatening as possible.
"Hey... are you alright?" His words came out quietly, almost like a bleat, and he tried to maintain loose body language—ears down, tail still, head slightly lowered.
The yearling jolted upright, hooves scrabbling in the dirt, eyes wide and frantic. His voice cracked, barely more than a whisper. "Go away! I know what you’re going to say. Everyone does. I’m cursed. I ruin everything. I am not going back, no matter what you say." His breath came in quick, sharp bursts, and he pressed himself deeper into the roots, trembling so hard Lin could see the shivers ripple through his fur.
Lin took a careful step back, lowering his head even more. Easy, Lin. Don’t spook him. He’s more scared than you are. He let the silence grow, listening to the yearling’s ragged breathing, the soft rustle of leaves, the distant bleat of the herd.
He tried again, voice even softer. "I’m not here to drag you anywhere. "I just... heard you crying. Thought maybe you could use some company. Or at least someone who won’t call you names." He let his words hang in the air, hoping the kid would believe him.
The yearling sniffled, wiping his nose on his foreleg. "You’re lying. Everyone lies. They say they want to help, but they want me gone." His voice was small, but there was a flicker of hope, or maybe just exhaustion, in his eyes.
Lin settled onto the cool earth, careful not to get too close. "I get it. I’m the outsider, remember? They don’t like me either. Perhaps we could sit here. Not talk, if you don’t want to." He let his ears droop, showing he meant no harm.
The yearling watched him, silent, but his breathing slowed. The scent of fear faded, replaced by something softer, uncertainty, maybe, or the faintest hint of trust.
Lin settled onto the cool ground, feeling the roughness of pebbles and the soft give of damp soil beneath his belly. The ground was cold, almost soothing, and the scent of crushed clover and wildflowers mingled with the sharper tang of fear in the air. Each breath filled his nostrils with the freshness of grass and the faint musk of another goat’s anxiety. Above, the wind whispered through the grass, carrying distant bleats and the delicate flutter of a butterfly’s wings.