Zeb travelled south through the mountains for a week. He steered well to the west staying in the foothills of the range stretching south from the mountains encircling the pasture. The weather stayed clear for the most part. The only day it rained, Zeb spent sitting under a pine tree surrounded by the sounds of the forest.
He gave a great deal of thought to the old shepherd's words. Truly, he had served the flock. It never occurred to him service could be anything but what was imposed on him from the outside. Ever since the Great Rejection, he had given himself to the dual tasks of fighting off the need to serve the more powerful, and enforce the serfdom of those weaker than him.
Having a choice was novel. He re-examined everything that happened to him - he never really made a free choic
