Through The Snow.

#FridayFictioneers have once more been challenged by the lovely Rochelle. In a hundred words no more or less use the picture and write.

The photograph is on loan strictly for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle for the loan

Through the snow I watched them skulking in the treeline. It was comical really; me watching them watching my animals. The herd oblivious to any of us, heads in the trough eating. Warm mash, measured and scooped, mixed as a cook in the best of kitchens would.  Warned about a spate of nastiness I was ready, the locals thought it was travelers on the Gypsy camp. But as I could clearly see it was youths from the estate. I alerted the police and they were on their way. They wouldn’t slice the tails and forelock’s from my herd.