The boy was thirteen and his job was watching sheep. Sheep don't do much. They eat, they stand around, sometimes one wanders off and you go get it. The dog liked it. The boy wanted to scream.
His dad had done this. His grandpa too. Same hill, same grass. Everyone thought that was nice. He thought he'd lose his mind.
One afternoon he stood on the stone wall and yelled "WOLF! WOLF!"
The whole village came running. The blacksmith had a hammer. The baker had a rolling pin. The mayor brought a walking stick and a look.
No wolf. Just the boy, grinning.
"Don't do that," the mayor said.
He wasn't sorry. For five minutes the entire village had dropped everything for him. That was the best thing that had happened all summer.
A week later he did it again.
They came slower this time, but they came. You have to, right? What if.
No wolf.
"Do it again and we don't come," the blacksmith said.
Autumn. One evening a wolf walked out of the trees. Grey, calm, not in a hurry. That was the scary part — it wasn't rushing.
The sheep bunched together and made a low sound. The boy's hands were shaking.
He screamed. Really screamed this time.
Down in the village, people heard him. The blacksmith went back to his work. The baker wiped her hands. Someone laughed.
Nobody came.
The wolf took three sheep.
The boy came down the hill. The mayor was sitting on her porch.
"We heard you," she said.
"I know."
"We didn't believe you."
"I know."
She looked at him for a while. "Trust takes a long time to build and about five seconds to wreck. And it's never quite the same after."
He went back the next day. And every day after that. Didn't yell. Just did the job.
People started trusting him again eventually. It took a lot longer than wrecking it did.
He became a shepherd like his dad. The sheep were still boring. The hill was the same. But he got it now. When you talk, you're asking someone to believe you. Blow that enough times and they just stop.
Some autumn evenings he'd see something move at the edge of the trees. Low and grey. He'd feel that same cold feeling.
And he'd handle it himself.
Goodnight.