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They were all just kids.
Jumping, chasing, chewing on anything they could get their hooves or paws on. The kind of day that dragged on forever: too hot, too quiet, too boring for a restless young flock and one equally curious puppy.
Shaun, ever the troublemaker, had found something strange and shiny near the trash can, a glass bottle that shines in thesun like a treasure. His eyes lit up, it reminded him of something, some silly game he'd glimpsed once while spying through the Farmer's window just to see what was on. The people on the glowing screen had been laughing, shouting, leaning in close…
He smiled, this could be fun.
He gathered the others, waving them over with a bounce in his step, bottle held high. They sat in a circle on the soft grass, bits of hay clinging to their wool. Shaun placed the bottle down carefully in the center.
They were going to play a game.
Bitzer tilted his head. The lambs, all too eager, nodded along, tails wiggling in anticipation. The pup copied them clumsily, tongue sticking out.
Shaun spun the bottle and explained the rules the best he could. Dares, silly ones. That's all it was. Laughter soon bubbled up around the circle as the bottle landed on one sheep, then another. Dares grew more ridiculous: hop on one leg, nibble on a boot, wear a hay hat, pretend you're the Farmer.
Then the bottle spun again.
And stopped between Bitzer and Shaun.
The lamb who spun it grinned. A dare. Someone bleated kissing sounds, and the rest echoed it like a chant, voices high and teasing. Both froze, Bitzer's eyes widened. Shaun blinked, A kiss? His ears twitched.
Neither moved.
A few snickers turned into taunts. Murmurs and looks that could easily mean how cowardly both were being.
That did it.
Shaun puffed up his chest and cheeks with mock bravado, leaning forward. Bitzer stared at him, stunned. He swallowed, then slowly leaned in too. The circle grew silent, tension hung in the air like fog, breath held, hearts beating like crazy, tension growing.
They were inches apart.
Until—
TWEEEET!
The sharp whistle sliced through the moment like a warm knife in butter. Everyone jumped, chaos erupted. Lambs bleated and scattered, tripping over each other. The game forgotten, laughter replaced by startled bleats.
Shaun and Bitzer hesitated, eyes still locked, a breath away from something. Then instinct kicked in, and they bolted toward the call, leaving the bottle spinning in the grass behind them.
Bitzer had been obsessed with romance books lately.
Everyday he would come with a new saga, a new romantic adventure, dogs falling in love with other dogs in impossible ways. Some stories were dramatic, some dreamy, and all of them left Bitzer staring into space a little too long, tail wagging without reason. The older sheep rolled their eyes, calling it a phase. But Shaun… couldn't help watching from afar, curious.
Then one day, Bitzer came running, tail wagging, book in paw.
He held it out like an invitation, practically glowing with excitement. Before Shaun could even react, Bitzer gently tugged him toward an idea—a play, a fantasy made real. Shaun resisted, stunned by the suggestion. He pulled away, confused, unsure why Bitzer wanted him of all the sheep around, of all the animals in the farm?! He grabbed the book like a hostage and seriously asked why. he was a sheep and he was a dog, there was no way for Shaun to be acting like a dog character on one of Bitzer's fantasy books.
A sad whine was heard, ears drooping, but his determination didn't fade. he snatched the book from Shaun's hold and began to browse as if it was a dictionary, flipping through its pages, searching, scanning, until he stopped at one. He pointed. Shaun's eyes followed, still in doubt about the situation.
In the scene the two characters found themselves in a moment of impossible closeness, one was caught upside down in ropes and vines and the other standing up. Their noses brushing, their hearts full, leaning into a kiss.
Shaun stared at the book his best friend was pointing at longer than he meant to. It shouldn't have made sense. But it tugged at something inside him, curiosity getting into him.
He wanted to know how that worked, how it was even possible.
And so, Shaun dared to help him. Later that afternoon, he stood under a tall tree, his hooves clutching a rope. He looked up, then climbed and slid himself downward until he was hanging upside down, wool bouncing in the air and head dangling just above the grass. His swayed gently back and forth.
Bitzer approached slowly. Cautiously. The sight before him left him wide eyed and still. They had agreed this wasn't a play. Just a test. Just to see if a kiss like that was even possible.
But something happened when he got closer.
Shaun, upside down, saw the world tilt in more ways than one. Bitzer looked different from this angle—soft-eyed, hesitant, mesmerized. Shaun's heart picked up its pace. He felt it beating fast, uncertain. Bitzer was just inches away now, muzzle lifting, eyes twinkling as if caught in a dream.
Shaun's hooves twitched, his breath hitched.
And then—
SNAP
The rope gave way.
Shaun crashed into the earth with a tangled, woolly thud, legs flailing above him like a broken scarecrow. Dirt flew all over his wool, even towards Bitzer. He groaned into the grass, ears flopped sideways. Bitzer found himself stiff with shock, looking at shaun up and down not knowing what to do.
Then a bark of laughter.
Not the usual soft snort, not a polite chuckle. A howling, breathless, thumping laugh. He fell into his knees and his paws kicking the ground, tears almost in his eyes. He fell to his side in the grass.
Shaun, still dazed, lifted his head wanting to scold the dog to shut it down.
But then… even he cracked a smile.
The moment passed, silly and strange, but something stayed suspended there
The farmer had left the house for the night
Shaun took advantage of this, he gathered up the flock and led them in through the door. Hooves trotting around the house. A certain dog ears perked up and once he spotted the invasion, his jaw dropped, fury began to bloom. Paws on his hips and a trembling eye was enough for him to stomp over the house. But the moment he caught a sniff of freshly cooked popcorn escaping from the kitchen window, a marvelous smell that left him weak.
He tried to stay angry, but… he really couldn't say no to that.
Shaun worked the kitchen, tossing salt and butter. Bitzer grumbled under his breath, but his tail wagged as he helped divide the fluffy snack into small bowls. Soon, the living room was packed. The flock settled into couches, pillows, and the rest just sat on the floor very comfortable. Shaun, as always, claimed the main armchair. Wide and worn, with enough room for two if they sat just close enough.
Bitzer made his way to the cabinet, pawing through the Farmer's dusty stack of DVDs. His eyes lit up when he saw the newest title.
AWOOOO 2: The Return of the Wolf.
He slid the disc into the player. By the time he turned around, the lights were off, the tv had begun to glow, and everyone had gone still. Shaun patted the space beside him. It wasn't even an invitation—it was expected. Bitzer sighed, maybe one day he'll be able to enjoy the chair all to himself, he didn't mind sharing with him though. Then took the seat, the side of his leg brushing softly against Shaun's.
The movie started. Dark forests. Red glowing eyes. Tension rose like fog.
Gasps filled the room.
Popcorn spilled as the first jump scare hit. Nutz was the first to leapt into the air, Timmy buried his face in his mom wool. Bitzer's was squished beside Shaun, the last time they shared this seat it didn't feel like this. But every time he moved—he brushed against Shaun's hoof again, and again. Neither pulled away.
Then came the wolf. Big, growling, vicious.
Shaun flinched hard and grabbed onto Bitzer's arm without warning, burying his face in his shoulder. The ever daring sheep trembled, breath shaky. Bitzer froze. Then he wrapped an arm around him, slowly, gently, holding Shaun against him, closer. Shaun peeked up at Bitzer with eyes wide, heart pounding. Bitzer looked down, startled by the warm closeness, caught in something deeper. Their faces hovered a breath apart.
Neither blinked. Neither moved away.
Shaun leaned in, slow, hesitant.
Bitzer met him halfway.
But just before anything could happen..
A shriek.
A chorus of panicked bleats erupted from the living room. On the screen, the wolf transformed—elongating, snarling, fur bristling, human skin showing. A werewolf, part human, part wolf. The plot twist.
The two jerked apart in surprise. Shaun straightened up quickly, clearing his throat cheeks flushed beneath. Bitzer cleared his throat too and stared stiffly at the screen, his paw now firmly on his own lap. Both felt disappointing for missing this crucial part of the movie.
And also disappointed for something they couldn't quite word.
The sun hung low over the fields, warm and lazy, painting everything in a soft haze. The wind passed though gently at the clean sheets on the line.
Bitzer, clipboard was found tossed aside, standing at the end of the laundry line holding a basket filled with damp, freshly washed clothes. Shaun walked up beside him. Laundry day wasn't his favorite chore—but something about watching Bitzer do it was oddly comforting. ¡
As the dog leaned down over a piece of clothing that slipped from his grip, Shaun grabbed a corner of a large striped sheet and flung it over the line. It flapped wildly as the breeze suddenly took off, before slapping Bitzer right in the face.
He wasn't impressed at all.
Shaun wheezed with silent laughter, already halfway through tossing another one over the line, wanting to test the weigh limit of it. Bitzer tore the sheet off his face, rolling his eyes. He didn't say anything—he didn't need to.
Noticing how Shaun leaned down to pick another piece of wet clothing, he knew this was his chance, so, he pounced back.
Shaun bleated in surprise, backpedaling into the laundry basket as Bitzer tackled him. They tussled like puppies in the middle of the linens, tangled between sheets and clips. Until both fell into the floor, laughing, giggling and growling in their own ridiculous way. It was a mess. It was chaos. It was perfect.
Eventually they slowed, laughter dwindling into quiet breaths, their rhythm softening into something still. Suddenly Bitzer noticed he was over Shaun, casting a shadow of his own figure on his friend. Shaun looked up, locking eyes with the dog, taken aback. The wind caught the line above them, a sheet blew sideways, wrapping over them, cutting them from the rest of the world.
Suddenly, they were very close.
The laughter had faded. Bitzer wasn't smiling anymore either, just watching him. Shaun felt the air shift, all that noise and silliness melting into something. Bitzer's paw was still on his chest—lightly, fluffy, soft. Like he hadn't realized he hadn't let go.
No one moved.
Shaun's breath caught in his throat. He didn't know what he was leaning toward. He didn't even mean to lean at all. But Bitzer tilted ever so slightly, and that tiny movement made everything buzz inside him like a chord strummed too hard.
Bitzer's heart thudded loud enough he was sure Shaun could hear it. His ear flicked. His tail curled just barely.
Then—
The sheet flew away from them, Bitzer jerked back, too fast it looked like it hurt. Shaun sat up, sputtering, dusting off his fleece. The spell was broken.
Winter had wrapped the farm in frost and hush.
Snow blanketed the fields like a thick woolen sheet, snow was all over the hills and the farm was in a similar state, icicles were seen everywhere, in tree branches, on the rooftops and even on the fences. The barn creaked more in the cold and little clouds of breath lingered. Inside, the energy was anything but still—Bitzer was hard at work, clipboard tucked under his arm, a beautiful wool scarf decorating his neck that Shaun personally wove from his own wool (the highest quality), whistle around his neck, setting lights and decorations with laser focus.
The Farmer's family was due for a visit, and everything had to be perfect.
Garlands of pine and popcorn framed the doorways. Bells jingled faintly, the old farmhouse, usually dim and quiet, now glowed golden with fairy lights and smelled faintly of cinnamon and damp wool. The festive energy was all over the place.
Shaun followed Bitzer around with a bounce in his step.
There was something about the winter that made him more playful, more restless… and admittedly, unusually fluffy. His fleece at its warmest and thickest this time of year. He waddled slightly when he walked, fluff bouncing with every step, the very spirit of winter itself, a moment where he was the proudest of his self care. He loved the Christmas decoration, the glowing lights, the strange warmth that made everyone quieter, gentler.
He wasn't helping, just watching and snooping around.
He ducked under the barn's door and stopped just at the doorframe, eyes scanning the strings of lights curling over the beams. That's when he felt it—a gentle tap on his shoulder.
He turned.
Bitzer stood behind him, eyes soft, expression unreadable. He looked up.
Shaun followed it.
A single mistletoe branch swayed just above their heads.
Time stopped.
The cold air around them faded into something quieter. Shaun's ears twitched. He didn't move. His breath caught in his throat, face suddenly burning, his legs moved by themselves as if someone had pushed them closer.
Slow, steady, careful. As if giving Shaun all the time in the world to stop him.
The decorations blurred, the cold vanished. Shaun's eyes darted everywhere. The lights, the snow outside. Anything but Bitzer, he leaned in slowly, carefully, like something precious might break. His eyes fluttered shut. His breath hitched.
Was this happening? Was he dreaming?
Then—he felt a push. A little shove from behind.
He stumbled forward.
Their mouths met.
Their lips met ever so clumsy, soft, and suddenly everything made sense. He froze for a moment… then kissed back, easing into it as though he'd done it a thousand times in a dream. His knees nearly buckled. He melted, warmth flooding from his cheeks to his chest. He held on gently, not pulling, not rushing.
Just… holding.
Behind them, the flock exploded into cheers.
They had been watching, for a long time. Hiding in the walls and behind hay bales, some clutching each others wool like tissues. They erupted in celebration, stomping and bleating with joy, several even throwing bits of popcorn in the air.
Something unspoken had finally bloomed.