The last

and they sat and they stared at the floor, and where many sheep had gone before, now there were few, and fewer, and as they stared at the floor they saw their graves opening before them, for they are the last and they are old. Where once in youthfulness they could gad over hills and shepherd many sheep, now in their twilight they keep the sheep close. And the young turn away and look to quick reward and warm homes and long idle evenings, not for them the unending duties of animal husbandry.

I was there to offer them help, hope, to offer them eternity. Let us find some young buck and teach them all you know of sheep. Let's find a community shepherd, a crofters apprentice, an orra loon. But their long teeth couldn't be drawn from the habitual scratching of the earth, preparing.

But I will not give up. Just yet.