Winter's on Its Way

“Come-bye!” Lennox commanded, and his dog took off at once. “Easy!” He watched as a single sheep was separated from the herd in a mad dash away from the gate. The dog noticed too, of course, and her attention shifted. “Lay down!” Reluctantly, she skidded to a stop, adrenaline still fresh in her veins. Her focus was razor-sharp as the flock lazily made their way into the next pasture over, clearly used to being worked by the dog. She flicked her eyes back and forth, feeling restless, while she eagerly awaited the next command.

 

“Away!” Lennox said at last, releasing her to reunite the stray lamb with the rest of the group. “Stand.” The dog stood stock still in front of the lamb, and with some protest, the lamb broke into a trot and joined the rest of the flock inside the gate. Lennox quickly closed and locked it, watching as the sheep slowly started to move and continue their grazing. 

 

“That’ll do, Bella.” And the dog ran towards Lennox, barking and panting hard. He smiled and knelt down; despite his size, he was nearly knocked over by the lithe sheepdog clambering onto his knees. Lennox chuckled and affectionately pet Bella’s head. “Good girl. I wish I had a fraction of the energy you did,” Lennox said quietly, squinting in dismay as she licked his cheek. Thankfully, she didn’t get at his glasses. He wiped his cheek with his sleeve and stood, looking around the little corner of land he’d carved out for himself and his sheep. Living in the South was not a choice he could have foreseen himself making, yet it had become one that he appreciated. 

 

“Spring again, isn’t it… I’m good at keeping track of time, but spring always seems to sneak up on me,” Lennox said, watching the countryside fondly as his loyal sheepdog sat at his feet. The sun would be setting in a moment. “I’ll have to move them up the plateau soon.”

 

Every season he sheared his sheep, always ending up with more wool than he knew what to do with, even after he’d sold the bulk of it. “I’ll make a trip into town tomorrow to say my goodbyes to Rutile and Mitile,” he told Bella. She barked and he laughed. “Yes, and Figaro.”

 

Lennox breathed in the crisp evening air deeply–greedily–before deciding to make the trek back to his cabin. Flying was an option, of course, but it was rather difficult to wrangle a dog in his lap and Lennox wasn’t about to make her run all the way home. It wasn’t terribly far, but far enough for a compromise: they walked together. 

 

This spring marked the third year since Bella had come to him. When Lennox was first finding his footing in the South, it was autumn, and a beautiful border collie puppy had run up to him just as he was entering the small village. The owner yelled and scolded, apologizing profusely as he scooped the black and white ball of energy up into his arms, nearly dropping the thing when she nipped at his already-abused fingers.

 

“So sorry about that, lad. This one’s quite a handful, she is,” the owner greeted, laughing bashfully. “Puppies, four of ‘em. The little buggers—me and my wife hardly know what to do with them all!”

 

Lennox blinked a couple times and hummed. What a welcome.

 

“Then maybe you could think about giving a couple away? Someone is sure to want one of them,” he suggested, readjusting his backpack and setting one of his heavier bags down. “There are plenty of shepherds around who would appreciate a good sheepdog.”

 

The old man’s eyes lit up. “That’s a fantastic idea! Oh, why hadn’t I thought of that?” he laughed and swept his hat from his head with a free hand, fanning himself with it. “A sheepdog! Of course!” And when he’d finished his fit of revelation: “Say, would you be interested in keepin’ this one? She seems t’ like ya, anyhow.”

 

A dog? Lennox had never kept a dog before. “…I don’t know about that—“

 

“Here, here. Take ‘er,” the man insisted, dumping the puppy into his arms. Lennox tried to open his mouth to protest, but was swiftly silenced when the border collie started climbing his chest, nearly falling in her excitement. Her bark was shrill and made Lennox wince, but her face all but made up for it. 

 

“Cute…” Lennox said, carefully taking the puppy into his hands, which seemed larger than normal in comparison. 

 

“Ain’t she? See ya later, Mr. Shepherd! Thanks for the advice!” Even as he spoke, the old man had already turned his back, waving a hand in departure. 

 

“Ah, no, I’m not—“ but he was drowned out by another bark. Lennox frowned. What had he gotten himself into? “…You’re welcome.”

 

Unable to find accommodations that were dog-friendly, he traveled a ways out of town to camp for the night. His new dog, he learned, had boundless energy. She was always running off after the nearest bee or butterfly, and god forbid something get in her way.

 

She needed a name, he finally decided.

 

Once he had finished pitching the tent, he spent the next ten minutes trying to catch the dog and bring her inside. He was successful, eventually, and in turn thoroughly out of breath.  

 

“Your former owner wasn’t lying, was he… You are a handful,” Lennox murmured as he lit a few lanterns and hung them up. “As for a name…”

 

He then recalled a young lady he had met on his travels. She was excitable and brave, always looking for the next adventure, and Lennox could barely keep up with her. Though he did not have anything to offer the girl in terms of words or gifts, she was kind to him nonetheless and would fill the silences when Lennox had nothing to say. Her name was Isabella, if he recalled correctly. 

 

“Bella…” he breathed, and one of her usually-floppy ears perked up. The name was fitting and the puppy seemed to like it as well, so that’s what she was called. 

 

Lennox spent the next few days lingering in the village and getting to know the locals. He wasn’t planning to stay, but he figured that he ought to get used to caring for Bella before he left. He was good with animals, always had been. There was never any question of whether he would keep the dog or not: he just did.

 

Days turned into weeks and Lennox had not yet set out again. Autumn days grew colder, and although a wizard like him could get through the winter unscathed, he yearned for a hearth. A comfortable chair, a soft bed. There was only so much magic could do, and once again, just like before, he had a companion to accommodate. 

 

Lennox had been asking around town for work, but everything he could find was either behind a desk, or beyond his skillset. He was fit for manual labour; repetitive jobs that brought a sense of rhythm and routine without boredom. Lennox liked to keep moving.

 

He had settled for working odd jobs. Repairs, errands, anything. The people of the village began to nod and smile at him when he passed, thankful for all of his hard work. One day, on the way back from a job, Lennox saw a flicker of blue hair out of the corner of his eye. He stopped and whirled around.

 

“Figaro…”

 

Figaro looked over to meet his eyes. His reaction was hard to gauge; he merely smiled gently.

 

“Lennox Ram. It’s been a while, huh?”

 

Seeing Figaro again after all that time was beyond conflicting. Lennox asked about Faust. Of course he asked about Faust. Figaro simply told him that he didn’t know.

 

Liar. 

 

Lennox didn’t ask any further questions after that. 

 

Figaro introduced him to the Flores brothers. He helped Lennox find a job. He introduced him to a shepherd named Raymond, who was getting too old to continue his work. 

 

“Takes about 2 years to train these guys. It’s a lot of work, you hear? Needs a certain kind of person,” Raymond said to him upon first seeing Bella. He was on his knees laughing as Bella clambered all over him. Lennox nodded faintly. 

 

“I can do it. I have time.”

 

How hard could it be?

 

And so the next few years were spent learning. Learning how to care for sheep. Learning alongside Bella. More often than not, it was frustrating. The sheep would get spooked, Bella wouldn’t listen, Lennox would make a mistake. And he would feel guilty for staying in one place, for not looking harder. But in time, that was okay. He was building a new life with new people. 

 

He took over Raymond’s pasture and refurbished his old cabin. He fell asleep in a warm bed every night and woke early to see the sunrise with Bella. He let her sleep on his bed. Seasons passed. Faust had never liked dogs very much, but Bella was unlike any other dog Lennox had met. She was intelligent and beautiful. There was a light in her eyes that couldn’t be extinguished, no matter how hard she worked and no matter how tired she was. Lennox wondered if Faust would like her, or if he would see himself in her.

 

It was autumn again, then winter, then spring. Time was slipping through his fingers faster than it ever did when he was traveling. Lennox used to miss it violently—got antsy just sitting around. But now he had settled into something his life had sorely lacked: a routine.

 

Every morning he’d wake before the sunrise, make a cup of tea, and feed Bella. Then, during the winter months, Lennox would bundle himself up and head for the barn with Bella on his heels. There she’d drive the sheep out into the fields and Lennox would make sure everyone was healthy and accounted for. After, they’d return to the cabin to get some chores done. By noon, generally someone would stop by to chat or request something and Lennox would make lunch for two. Any extra time was spent training Bella, which he learned was a never-ending process. There was always more to learn. On weekends, he’d go into town to see Fiagro and the Flores brothers. 

 

His shelves were full of gifts from the townspeople and memories of his travels. Rutile had a wall to himself where his drawings were carefully hung. Adjacent, a shelf of Mitile’s potions and bottles of herbs sat, radiating a gentle energy. Figaro’s gifts were less specialized—a bottle of wine, a mug, some treats for Bella. He was surrounded by the physical manifestation of love.

 

It was idyllic. 

 

Every night he’d call his sheepdog in and she’d leap onto the bed with some effort. Lennox would entwine his fingers with her soft fur and they’d both fall asleep pleasantly exhausted. Bella was always there next to him, and Lennox truly felt like he had a companion again. 

 

For the first time in a while, he felt content. 

 

Of course he had his days, however. Sometimes the guilt—the vague regret—would cloud his mind. He’d lie awake at night thinking of Faust, Alec, and Figaro, wondering where it all went wrong. But just like his father, Lennox never stopped facing forward. He had taught him that pride and hope can grow in the deepest, darkest part of a mine, and so day in and day out, Lennox worked diligently to care for the people and animals around him.

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“Mr. Lennox!” Mitile said, giggling as he ran towards the pair. Bella bounded over to him, turning at the last second to greet Figaro and Rutile too. Lennox smiled warmly at the sight.

 

Figaro laughed and walked over to lay a friendly hand on Lennox’s shoulder.

 

“That time already, Leno?” Lennox nodded.

 

“Did all the lambs make it? Are they cute?” asked Rutile, eyes shining. He knelt down to give Bella a good scratch behind the ears, laughing and leaning back when she clambered up his legs.

 

“Mhmm. We had a good season this year.”

 

“Ah wait—! Before you go I made you another pouch of herbs for your allergies!” Mitile dug around in his messenger bag until he procured a small fabric pouch full of goldenrod, butterbur, and mullein leaf. He handed it up to Lennox with a proud smile. He took the pouch from Mitile and slipped it into his own bag gratefully, nodding and giving him a meaningful look. 

 

“Thank you, as always, for the warm send off.” He gave them each a nod, stoic expression betraying none of the warmth that bloomed within his chest. 

 

Bella gave a shrill bark and Figaro laughed.

 

“Sorry, we’re holding you guys up aren’t we? Take care of yourself, Leno.” Figaro smiled placidly and waved as Lennox turned to leave.

 

“We’ll see you next winter! Bye bye!” Mitile shouted after him.

 

“We’ll miss you!” Rutile chimed in.

 

And so Lennox walked away from town, Bella trotting by his side as always. Now he’d take his beloved dog and sheep up to different fields to give the ones by his barn a rest. Perhaps it wasn’t the most convenient arrangement, but Lennox enjoyed the short journey and the change of scenery that came with it.

 

He’d be back by winter.

 

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Akira scrawled notes into his journal that lay on the dining table as he listened to Rutile and Mitile’s story.

 

“So when I see Mr. Lennox, I think of being cozied up by the fireplace while fresh snow falls outside,” Rutile explained while Mitile nodded enthusiastically. 

 

“Haha, that’s the kind of feeling I got from him, too,” Akira agreed, doodling a snowy evergreen tree in the margins. “Thank you for sharing with me.”

 

Just then, Lennox and Faust passed by the dining room, headed for the foyer.

 

“Are you sure you want to come with me, Faust?”

 

Faust winced. They were working on the whole “master” thing, but even he wasn’t used to it.

 

“Of course,” Faust said, wrapping a wool scarf around his neck once they neared the door. He’d ditched his cassock in favor of clothes suited for winter weather. “I haven’t been to the Rheita Mountains for quite some time.”

 

Lennox hummed, and knelt down to tie the laces on his boots.

 

“I’ve heard the winter isn’t treating the South very well this year… I wanted to check on things.”

 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. You lived there for quite some time, right?”

 

Lennox nodded. One day, he’d tell Faust everything. He had to. It felt as though in the time they had been separated a great hole had bore its way through Lennox’s memories. Time had been separated into before, during, and after Faust, and he couldn’t tell which one was the most painful.

 

But it was okay. This was something new that didn’t fall under a category. They could take their time.

 

Lennox finished zipping his coat up and opened the door for the two of them. It was cold in Central Country, too, but not unbearably so. They mounted their brooms and began the flight to the South, filling the time with pleasant conversation and comfortable silence until they reached the mountains.

 

“Was there any particular reason you wanted to come here?” Faust asked, stepping off his broom and brushing the snow from his pants. Lennox did the same and thought a moment before answering.

 

“I brought my sheep here once to graze and they ended up multiplying…”

 

Faust blinked, then burst into laughter. Lennox thought that it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

 

“They what? Come on, explain yourself better.” Faust chided casually, still laughing and starting the trek up the snow-dusted mountain. 

 

Lennox followed a step behind.

 

“…There are spirits in these mountains that like to give gifts,” he said quietly.

 

Lennox came to walk side by side with Faust.

 

“Of more sheep?” Faust furrowed his brows, looking up at Lennox. Now it was his turn to laugh at his confused expression.

 

“Of whichever animal you bring here, I think.” Snow had started to fall lightly around them as they climbed higher. “They’re just an illusion and they disappear when you leave, but they grant you protective powers.”

 

Faust hummed.

 

“The spirits around here do feel rather generous,” he commented. “They’ve accepted me in no time at all.”

 

A shrill series of barks could be heard in the distance. Lennox frowned while Faust stopped in his tracks.

 

“A dog? With an owner I hope?” Faust wondered aloud, squinting into the distance. It was hard to see through the snow. The barks continued to get louder and closer until they could see the dog bounding towards them. Lennox put an arm out to shield Faust.

 

The dog barked tirelessly as it finally reached the two, and in a spray of snow that got under their clothes, she skidded to a stop.

 

“O-oi…! Who let their dog wander out this far?” Faust backed up a few paces and eyed the dog warily, and he shivered from the cold sensation down the front of his shirt. 

 

Lennox was silent for a long moment before he knelt down to pet the dog, knees becoming quickly soaked. 

 

“Bella…. It is you, isn’t it…” Lennox laughed when Bella licked his face, most definitely getting his glasses this time. He took them off and cleaned them, looking over at Faust. “Sorry, you were never much of a dog person, were you.”

 

“…Is she… yours?” Faust crept closer, tentatively kneeling down as well. Bella sniffed his gloved hands excitedly. 

 

“Yes. She was.” Lennox hadn’t smiled this much in a while. He had lost Bella only a few years before he was summoned to the manor, and he still felt as if he never had the proper amount of time to grieve. “When I first came to live in the South, someone approached me and gave her to me. She served as my sheepdog for a good many years.” Her fur was just as soft as Lennox had remembered it.

 

“…after all this time there is still so much I do not know about your travels,” Faust mumbled, tugging a glove off and exposing the old scars. He pet Bella’s head gently as she laid down, tired. 

 

“Allow me to tell you, then. All of it,” Lennox said quietly. “You deserve to know more than anyone else.”

 

And so they sat there, recounting memories while Bella slept soundly next to them; they sat there until the cold seeped through their clothes, then their skin, and until their magic was no longer able to keep them warm. When they returned to the manor that evening, the protective magic of the Rheita Mountain spirits and the memory of Bella had followed them home to keep them safe.