256 | John W. Warner IV hide if stolen by thieves. Bloody cold, said Bea. Alice wiped her hands. I told you it would be. I admire these folks, salt of the earth. Bea thought of home back in Kent. If only Mr. Grath could see these flocks and us as third-rate shepherds. Rations on the move are slight, Im always a bit hungry. Fine day. What Id give for ol Flippy and an aerial recon. Hands on hips, Alice said: My dear old bag, I think these nomads would shoot at you if you dive-bombed them in your old Moth for a lark. You do have a point, laughed Bea. An older girl carried her baby sister on her back, leading a donkey with chickens atop tied to wool bundles. A small puppy followed her. She smiled at Bea and Alice, but the rhythm of mountain life also meant movement. Everyone migrated in a choreographed fashion, all knew their place, all did their jobs without hesitation or complaint. Bea stopped, letting go her two kids. You never did tell me how you felt after your first. Alice picked up and cradled a soft white lamb, no more than two weeks old. She and Bea had been tending to the tribes small wounds with the last of their medical supplies, using valuable cotton cloth bandages when needed. They had grown fond of the nomads, a beautiful yet durable people intertwined with animals at a basic level not seen in England for millennia; they traveled as one single migratory entity. What the hell would you like me to say? I feel physically sick about it and cant sleep; I cried all day yesterday. I was the same way once. AU life is precious, but we kiU or eat it with abandon. Ive shot deer and elk in Wyoming as a girl. Theres no difference other than the animals have no malice in their hearts. A young boy relieved her of the lamb. These people live a rough life close to the bone and closer to nature. Snake bites, scorpions, sickness, fast icy rivers to cross with frightened animals. Raising a family in a tent. Tribal rivalry. But they have true freedom, and its intoxicating. We should learn from them. Bea cleaned herself with a wet rag and a sliver of soap. Amen to that, sister.