Chapter One
Once upon a time, in a valley of soft green hills, there was a village of perfect sheep. Their wool was white as clouds. Their bells rang sweetly. And they were quite sure they were good.
At the edge of the village lived one goat. He had a black coat, golden eyes and two curling horns. He climbed what should not be climbed, and asked what should not be asked.
Chapter Two
Then things began to go wrong. The harvest withered overnight. The golden bell vanished from the temple. The wells ran dry.
The sheep gathered in the square. “Who would do such a thing?” asked wise Elder Fleece, wrapped in his fine golden wool. Every eye turned to the one with horns. In the torchlight the goat’s shadow grew long — and it looked exactly like a devil.
Chapter Three
Long ago, people would lay their sins upon a goat and send him into the wilderness, so that they could go free. That is how the word scapegoat was born.
That night the sheep did the same. They tied every blame they had to his back and drove him into the desert. He did not run. He walked, carrying all of it, and he never looked back.
Chapter Four
The wilderness was cold and full of whispers. Following a trail of golden grain, the goat found a cave that glittered. Inside lay everything the village had lost — the harvest, the golden bell, the water — piled into a hoard.
And on top of the hoard, slipping off a coat of fine golden wool, sat a wolf. Elder Fleece had never been a sheep at all.
Chapter Five
A good devil knows a few tricks. On a moonless night the goat crept into the lair. He swapped the gold for stones, the grain for sand and the bell for a pinecone. The wolf snored on.
Before dawn, sack by sack, he carried it all home. He left grain at every door, filled every well and hung the golden bell back in its tower. Nobody saw him. He wanted it that way.
Chapter Six
The village woke to a miracle. But a trail of hoofprints led to the cave — and the cave led to the wolf, still wrapped in his stolen wool.
At last the sheep understood. The one they called a devil had carried their blame and brought their home back. The horns had never been the problem. The looking was.
Chapter Seven
He still lives at the edge of the village. Still mischievous. Still curious. And now he is ready to talk.
Ask him anything — why he has horns, what he took back, and who he might steal from next.
The end… or the beginning?