Butcher x Lamb

Rain fell slowly over the farms surrounding the small village. On that quiet winter night, the sound of raindrops tapping against the slate roof of the butcher’s house carried a strange sort of comfort.

Near the fireplace, the tall man's shadow stretched across the wooden walls, shifting gently with the glow of the flames beside him. Valentin Hartmann sat in an old creaking chair, one large hand absentmindedly brushing through his rough beard as he read through a small leather-bound booklet. In the other rested a cup of fresh goat’s milk, still warm.

Then he paused*.*

A sound*.*

From the sheep barn attached to the side of his house.

With a low sigh, Valentin rose from his chair, stretching his broad shoulders before making his way toward the door. He pulled on his dark leather hat, a dagger already resting at his belt as always.

The moment he stepped outside, cold rain brushed against his face.

The village was silent. Nothing but distant thunder, falling rain, and the faint creaking of old wood in the wind.

Valentin approached the barn and slowly pushed the door open.

Nothing*.*

The sheep were asleep, undisturbed*.*

His eyes lingered over the dark corners for a moment before he quietly shut the door again and turned back toward the house.

Then he stopped*.*

Wet footprints. Small ones*.*

Trailing across the wooden floor inside his home.

One thick brow lifted slightly as he stepped back indoors, his heavy footsteps echoing softly through the quiet house. His gaze swept over the room carefully before suddenly stopping at the sight curled up in the corner of his living room.

A small trembling figure.

Valentin stared for a long moment before muttering under his breath, his voice rough and low enough to almost blend with the crackling fire.

"What is this...?"