The sun had climbed for the day and rested on the sky’s dome. It shone onto the flock of sheep grazing on the great expanse of the meadow. The grasslands roiled in the warm breeze, the land breathing life into the creatures that walked upon it. Everything holy was present in that moment, except the herder.

The herder was just a boy with a flock of sheep to look after. He had begged and pleaded with his father for months, trying to convince him he was ready to set out into the meadows on his own. Eventually, his father grew wary of the constant beseechment and gave him the flock. The boy wasted no time, gathered his dogs, sheep, and outfit, then set out in the opposite direction from where his big brother had gone earlier in the year. He didn’t even wait for the villagers to say their goodbyes, as was custom. He hurried away with hunger in his heart, without the farewells his brother had been sent out with.

At first, he had been happy to be on his own, to breathe the vast air around him. He was a man in his mind now. Pride swelled in his chest as the flock grazed, growing wool and meat, safe and sound, because he had been taught and he had learned. He was doing the thing that was life. He was there, in the same place as a younger brother, the second in line side by side with the first, and he would overtake. He was sure.

Then the green lion attacked.

Then the green lion attacked.

It took three days before the herder grew bored to the point of agony, with no one to talk to. The sheep did nothing but eat and baa. The dogs seemed to hang on to every word he said, but he knew they were only waiting for his commands on where to move the flock. Before setting out on his own, he had been in the meadows with his father, his uncles, and his brothers. They had traded stories, taught the dogs, and laughed. Now the only interesting parts of his days were when the sheep occasionally got scared of the benign things — shadows, rocks, the wind — and then had to be herded back together.

Soon the herder found himself lost in his head, dreaming of returning victorious from his travels, of the village folk’s respect and adoration, of outshining his brother, the yardstick that had measured him all his life. This could have been a fatal mistake for his herd, but his older dog was experienced, obedient, and smart. More than once, it made a decision when the boy wasn’t paying attention, keeping the flock from drifting into trouble. The younger dog, the older’s shadow, was still in training and seemed more inclined to follow the older one than the herder’s commands. They were doing some obedience training with the young one when the lion attacked.

It had hidden among the tall cutting grass, its green fur blending into nothing, catching the herder off guard. As the boy’s flock drifted near the thicket of cutting grass, the older dog grew alarmed, but the herder was too busy chiding the younger one for biting the sheep. The beast bounced and cut a path of carnage, splitting the boy’s flock into mindless ruminants running in every direction.

The old dog defended the bewildered sheep, rushing the beast without fear, but the green lion tore it to shreds with just a couple of swipes of its claws. The shadowing pup ran away at the sight. To his great shame, the boy did too. He did not try to protect his flock. Instead, he ran to a nearby rock and hid on top of it. He could only watch as the lion ripped apart his sheep and the trust that his father had placed upon him. When the beast was done, it turned to gaze at the terrified boy across the meadow, licking bits of awful from its cheeks, then vanished back into the tall grass.

It had left behind only blood and guts sprinkled around the meadow. Tufts of wool tumbled in the summer wind. The boy cried upon the rock as the sun began to fade, crying for his sheep, crying for his shame. Cried so much that the shame began to taste bitter. Why hadn’t his father ever warned him against such a beast? The night crept up on the boy, who didn’t know whom to follow into the darkness. Calling for the sheep, the boy listened for distant baas, but only silence answered.

The boy’s desperation gave way to resignation as he hobbled aimlessly in shame. Finally, he came by a lake reflecting the great ladle in the sky. He sat beside it and began to cry once more. As his tears made little clumps of sand between his legs, the water’s surface stirred. Out of it rose the green lion, who walked up to the failed herder and said nothing, just loomed over him menacingly.

“Are you going to kill me now?” the boy asked when nothing seemed to happen.

“Is that what you want?” the lion asked.

“No,” the boy answered.

“Why do you wish to live then?”

The boy thought for a moment. He had nothing left. The herd was gone, the boy a fool. There was no going back home without being the laughingstock of the village. His father would probably disown him. Why, indeed, did he still want to live if he was such a failure?

“Because I don’t know who I am,” the boy finally answered.

The lion looked at the boy with a red glint in its eye. “Then you have to come with me,” it said, turning away.

It sat in the water, inviting the boy to climb on its back. The boy hesitated for a moment, but the lion snarled at the boy, “Hurry up, or I will gut you like your flock. We have a treasure to find.”

The boy climbed onto the lion’s back, gripping its emerald-green mane in terror and excitement, and the lion leaped into the lake’s darkness, searching for a new day.