Jetting through the dry Santa Teresa terrain, Alix is quickly learning that sheep run faster than people. Faster than Alix, at least. It’s a fact they’d typically ask Hana to check, but Hana isn’t around right now. In fact, Alix hasn’t seen Hana all day.
Alix is surrounded on all sides by vast, yellow hills met by green blotchy mountains. The dry grass crunches beneath their feet. Ahead, a sheep outpaces Alix by twenty feet at least. Alix can’t tell how long they’ve been running, but it feels like hours. For a while, Alix and the sheep were running in circles, but now they’re gunning directly towards the woods.
After crossing into the thick of trees, Alix has no advantage and loses sight of the sheep. Alix stumbles over a tree root and gives up completely. Winded as hell, they survey their surroundings. Through a tangle of foliage and vines, Alix can make out a sun-speckled swamp nearby, its algal surface bursting with green amongst the muddier colors. It’s ominously still and quiet, reinforcing the fact that the sheep is long gone. Alix catches their breath for a few minutes, hoping the sheep will come back, but it doesn’t.
Heading sullenly back towards the Airbnb, Alix hesitantly dials Hana, unsure how to break the news.
“What’s up?” Hana answers.
“Hey, where are you?” Alix stutters.
“I went into town for a few things. You sound worried.”
“Um,” Alix starts. “A sheep escaped. The fence — ”
“What?”
“I accidentally let a sheep loose.”
“Okay,” Hana processes, keeping their cool. “Where is it now?”
“It’s gone. It ran into the woods. I couldn’t catch it.”
“How did it get out?”
“I don’t want to get into it.”
“Fine,” Hana says, worry manifesting in their voice. “You need to tell Dolly. Like, now.”
“I don’t know where she is.”
“Knock on her door. We’re probably going to get asked to leave. Seriously. How did the sheep get out?”
“I really don’t wanna talk about it. I’ll find Dolly.”
Alix ends the call and heads towards Dolly’s house, a chalk white barn with sharp geometric features and strangely placed windows. There’s a horrible bug on the welcome mat that looks like a gigantic, larval grasshopper. Alix swears the demon is making eye contact, surely a judgmental stare. Alix rings the plastic doorbell, and after 37 seconds Dolly answers the door.
“Hey, Dolly?”
“Hi, hello! Alix, right?”
“Yeah,” Alix says, face burning with guilt.
“Great. I was wondering when I’d get to meet you. Wanna come in?”
“Um,” Alix says. “This is weird, but there’s an emergency.”
“Oh, no. What’s going on?”
“A sheep got loose. I tried chasing it, but it escaped into the woods.”
“Oh, dear. I’ll have to text Lisa and Shane.”
Alix is silent.
“Our neighbors,” Dolly explains. “The sheep have escaped before.”
Alix’s anxiety is paralyzing.
“They usually come back. Come inside. Lemme show you around. Can I get you something to drink? Sparkling water?”
“Uh…”
“I have prosecco in the fridge, too.”
Alix thinks. “That sounds great.”
“Yes, it does.”
Dolly moves through her house respectfully, pointing out various art and books, mostly of Islamic origin. Walls are lined with beautiful drawings and textiles with intricate patterns. Shelves house an assortment of glazed pottery with iridescent colors and decorative motifs Alix has never seen before and some figurative stone carvings that look somewhat cartoonish. Details from the Airbnb, like the dishes and glassware, the fruit bowl, and the carpets, reveal themselves to be part of a bigger whole that lives in Dolly’s home. Alix is reminded of going over to a friend’s house for the first time and learning where they come from.
In an upstairs hallway, Alix’s eyes graze a framed photograph of Dolly, smiling brightly, with her arm around the waist of a woman wearing an ornate fuchsia scarf, crows feet around her eyes and salt and pepper hair. Dolly passes it without commentary.
Dolly seems a little distracted by the time they get back to the kitchen, so the two sip their prosecco in silence. Dolly gazes out the window, facing a small hill backdropped by the bigger mountains. Alix and Hana’s house is barely visible, just a corner sticking out from behind the hill.
Finally feeling relaxed, Alix asks, “The sheep really come back?”
“They have before.”
“How do they know to?”
“They’re not like people. They don’t really have a choice.”
Alix takes a long, slow sip of prosecco. Dolly seems completely transfixed. Alix watches Dolly lift a hand to her face, as if to wipe away a tear.
“Is everything okay?” Alix asks.
Dolly clears her throat, and faces Alix again. “I’ve been here for 30 years. I look out of this window almost every day. At one point, I thought I knew every inch of the land by heart. But now I realize that things are always changing.”
“What’s different?”
“Sometimes nothing. Sometimes everything.”
