Oopsy-daisies! Perhaps it was not so wise to wander into the realm of sheep both male and fit while afflicted with a severe case of miryachit.
Shearing some wool was deemed a task, but not nearly a moonshot. Kicked out of sneaks, body now sprawls across floral field, bruised quite a lot.
Healing will require laksa, ice, wrap, and pill, but while life is achingly paused, there sprouts reason to enjoy silver-lined scents of recent spill.
Upsy-daisy! Yes, the rams are, at present, chewing petals happily, but those owls—with eyes and rictuses wide—seem fixed on next noshing me! ; )