Huddled sheep
The next morning came earlier than he wanted. Loud bleating woke him, the kind that signaled commotion and urgency. Ben groaned, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and pushed open the window with a sigh. Outside, several of his sheep had escaped their enclosure. They stood huddled beside the porch, their heads angled downward, all staring intently at the same spot beneath the house. Something about their stance made his stomach tighten. Sheep rarely fixed on one thing for this long.
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