“Yeah. Come on.”

He took a skin of cider out of one of the bike’s saddlebags and helped her over the fence.

“Watch where you step.”

“What? Why? Oh,” she said, sidestepping a pile of large poop balls. “What made that?”

“Sheep.”

“Noooooo. Sheep are not big enough for that.”

“You know you’re strange, right?” He chuckled. “This way.”

On the other side of a small rise a flock of pretty, but monster-sized, black-faced sheep with white fluffy wool were grazing in an idyllic meadow of winter rye and tiny yellow and purple flowers.

“Sheep,” he said.

“Those aren’t sheep. I mean they look like sheep, but they’re as big as cattle.”

“How big are they supposed to be?”

“Like this.” She held her hand to a height of mid-thigh.

“That’s crazy.” He shook his head. “If they were that size, you couldn’t ride them.”

“Ride them!”

“Absolutely.” He smiled. “They’re friendly. You pick one out for yourself. Then I’ll pick one out and we’ll race.”

“Race,” she said drily.

Rosie wasn’t entirely opposed to riding on the backs of animals. Her Auntie Elora and Uncle Ram had taken her on horse outings lots of times. But sheep was another story altogether.

“What about saddles? And bridles?”

Carnal made a face. “You can be kind of prissy. You know that?” She sniffed. He sidled up close. “Don’t worry. I like prissy on you. So, which one is yours?”

She cocked a hip and put her hand on it. “You think I’m going to chase a sheep and fling myself onto its back?”

“Of course not.” He chuckled. “Show me which one you want. I’ll introduce you and help you up.”

She looked at the sheep, who were watching them warily while they continued chewing like it was a job.

“You know all these sheep personally.”

“Hmmm.” He shrugged. “Close enough. Know one, know ‘em all.”

Her curiosity was getting the better of her. So, wanting to know where the plan was headed, she pointed to the smallest sheep, which was almost exactly at eye-level with her.

“Done.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the sheep. It made no move to shy away, but stood steadfastly. Chewing. “Sheep. This is Rosie. Rosie, this is a small ewe.”

“You call that an introduction?” He lifted her onto the back of the sheep without warning. “Hey. You touched without permission.”

“Oops.” He grinned unashamedly before turning to pick out the tallest ewe.

“That’s not fair,” Rosie said. “She has longer legs and is bound to be faster.”

“You could have picked this one, if you wanted. In fact, you still can. Want to trade?”