Once lunch finished, he moved the herd in the paddock next to the farm, thankfully the headcount was still the same as the day before.
"This makes no sense!" Oswald talked to himself, his head wasn't enough to contain his questions.
'Why the hell would everything be fine if there was a monster here? How did it enter? Why did it not kill a goat inside? Why the heck did the kind of wound I remember of gives dimples?'
During the afternoon, he looked at the yellow halo in the sky, he questioned every of his movements from last night up to his current doings.
He furiously walked to the empty barn, this time to seek answers or take a closer look about the monster, well, the kind of gigantic goat he saw. The first clue, on a pile of dehydrated faeces, he saw the mark of a cloven hoof, the size of his head.
'Wow.'
His shoulders relaxed to a short euphoria, he scoffed at himself.
Rather than massaging his temples, he put his fingers on his dimples and he puffed his cheeks to see if air could pass through it, but in vain. What remained was more a scar than a double gaping hole.
Again, he saw traces of his blood under a thin layer of hay. The smell was intense, sheep and goat alike were naturally smelly, but this time, air was hard to breathe.
He went next to the fake window, the hole in the roof from which the snow fell. Thanks to the recent activity of the herd in the room, and the kind weather, there wasn't much snow on the floor. With a broom, he cleaned the zone and found more than he expected.
On a quarter of the storage area, the planks were swollen, the humidity of the snow made them soft and fragile, when Oswald touched the mark, he could peel the first layer of wood with his nails.
He managed to pull out what at first sight appeared to be gravel corroding the wood. It took him several seconds to notice those were teeth. Not thick enough to be from his herd.
He puked.
Then, he touched his mouth again, to compare the with the teeth he already had.
His tongue had the memory of their shape, nothing had changed, as far as he could tell, they all had a double and of course, they were from his canines and premolar. 'What in the world happened here? I can't possibly have survived all this!'
What was left to find was how he managed to end up in his own bed but he couldn't remember how he had reached it in the first place.
He was impatient to see if the nocturn heresy would happen anew. The spectacle he witnessed had a better taste than sugar. Although Oswald was completely uncertain, he couldn't do a thing about it.
The fact he couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't made mind too occupied and because he was so busy, he was worn out before lunch. Any proof he found scared him deeper and deeper.
At least, he thought about looking for food. Winter was already tight, if they were to lose one more sheep one member of the family would possibly die.
His mother, patiently cooking in the one story house, kneaded dough with her strong grip. "Hey mother, I want to try hunting. It'll bring plenty of energy for you to deliver the baby. Will you let me?"
Her protective instinct spoke. "Oswald, I am not doubting your abilities nor your will, but what if something happens to you in the forest? What am I supposed to do by myself? I can barely stand for two hours a day! The wolves are next door and you want to go find them? It's pretty irresponsible."
A knot in the stomach, the boy wished he had more freedom.
"Alright." He said.
'No way.' He thought.
Deceiving his mother was the last of his options, but the pain in his stomach made it harder to work every day.
He continued his work as a shepherd all day until the evening. The wonderful sight unfolded once more under his eyes. Colours danced with each other and the dim of the night never came.
Meryl watched him disappearing into the woods from the doorstep, her skin was shiny and she appeared satisfied. 'Silly, you don't have to walk barefoot to show how much of a man you are... I better prepare soup if you really wish to catch a cold.'
'You have no way to interfere anyway. See you later mother.'
As far as he could see, the landscape remained bright. His pant was wet up to his balls, the snow was up to a meter thick in the forest, nonetheless, his legs weren't numb nor cold. From his toes to the tip of his nose, nothing felt cold. Only when he ate snow did he feel its freezing temperature.
A crackling branch made him raise his head, a night bird hunched on a tree, hidden in between branches.
Never in his life did he climb so fast. He did not even realise how hard his instincts kicked in.
A jump on the left, to the right, up above and there he was, proudly holding a buzzard, about fifty centimeters big. Five meters above ground, he felt his heart palpitate, another wonderful feeling that made him desire more than climbing.
Observing the slightly decreased radiant moon, he ran through the woods, the dead bird packed in a sleeve he knotted in his back.
As his first night outside, a spike of pain pierced his chest, his heart missed a beat and his mind faded like a shock wave, he found himself in his bed. Morning again.
His smile had yet to fade from the euphoric state he was in seconds ago he almost pushed his mother off the bed. "Sorry."
"Mh, mmh." She replied, still asleep.
Oswald went to the kitchen and noticed a pile of brown feathers, he checked the larder and found his game meat, most of it was curing in a bag of salt.
Obviously, Oswald had a second version of himself wandering. The blackout he suffered from had him think.
'Great. At least I'm not harmful when I go out. I need few more tests before understanding what I'm doing at night, and what I can do.'