Poor Abel

The alpaca boys are both thrilled to be back out in the field. They spent a lot of their confinement staring out the window of their stall quietly humming through their frustration. I felt badly for both of them, but Abel especially. Cain stood to gain a healthy leg and a future from the ordeal, but poor able-bodied Abel got nothing out of it but the dubious satisfaction of a brotherly sacrifice well grudgingly made.

Now they're free to wander and browse at will and seem quite content. Alpacas are a lot like goats. They love to nibble on the low-hanging branches of the trees in the pasture. There are a number of crabapples out there and every one of them is bare from the ground to the tops of the alpacas' heads. With the grass turning steadily browner, the boys have turned to searching for any stray crabapples that may have been overlooked by Rowan and Zephyr, both of whom are not only older, but unfortunately taller than the boys.

But even here, Abel just can't win. All that three-legged stall rest seems to have given Cain an edge. His back legs are stronger than ever.

Cain: Do you see any? I don't see any.

Abel: Oo Oo, right here, I found one.

Cain: Well, hey wait a minute, brother. What about these up here? There are lots up here.
Abel: Wait what...how'd you...what?

Abel: This is just. not. fair.

Abel: Brothers. Phfttttt.