The Fluffy Life of a Sheep Girl

Pan*

Meanwhile: 

Pan, the god of the wild, shepherds, and music, was not having a good day. His love of chaos, his penchant for mead, and his eternal bond with nature had brought him into countless tricky situations over the millennia. But this? This was new.

The once-mighty god was currently leaping over rocks and bushes, scrambling to avoid the snapping jaws of a black-and-white blur of fur and fury.

"All I wanted was to bring her damn dog over to her!" Pan yelled, barely dodging another lunge. He stumbled backward, landing in the dirt as the border collie barked furiously. "How in Tartarus did this happen!?"

Flashback: Two Hours Ago

Pan had been lounging atop a floating cloud, a half-empty jug of mead in one hand and a bemused grin on his face. He watched the newly evolved Lyra sleep peacefully beneath her tree.

"She's doing well," he mused, taking another swig of mead. "Better than I expected, honestly. Naming that many creatures on her first day? Gutsy. Gotta respect that."

His gaze shifted to the island below. The residents were busy building something for their mistress, humming tunes that drifted up to him.

"Ah, they've got that handled," Pan muttered, leaning back lazily. "But something's missing..."

He furrowed his brow, his mind wandering. Then, his eyes widened in realization.

"The dog!" he exclaimed, sitting up so quickly he nearly spilled his mead. "Puck, or whatever his name is. She loves that thing. What kind of god would I be if I didn't reunite her with her best friend?"

Pan snapped his fingers, his grin widening. "This'll be easy. Dogs love me!"

The Summoning

Pan appeared in Ebony's old apartment, still holding his jug of mead. Puck was lying peacefully on the couch, his head resting on a cushion. The moment Pan materialized, the dog's ears perked up.

"Hey there, little guy!" Pan said, crouching down and giving Puck his most charming grin. "I'm here to bring you to your mistress. She's waiting for you, you know. You miss her, don't you?"

Puck tilted his head, his brown eyes narrowing slightly.

"Come on, buddy," Pan coaxed, holding out his hand. "I'm a friend. Let's get you to her."

For a moment, it seemed like Puck might oblige. The border collie sniffed Pan's hand cautiously. But then his tail stiffened, his ears flattened, and a low growl rumbled from his throat.

Pan blinked. "Uh-oh."

Before he could react, Puck lunged.

{🐏}

"Why does this dog hate me?!" Pan shouted, diving behind a table as Puck snarled and leapt onto it, scattering papers and books.

Pan scrambled to his feet, running into the kitchen. "I'm a god, for Zeus's sake! Animals are supposed to like me!"

Puck barked furiously, his sharp teeth snapping dangerously close to Pan's ankles.

"Okay, okay!" Pan yelled, grabbing a loaf of bread from the counter and tossing it toward the dog. "You want food? Here, take it!"

Puck ignored the offering, his focus unwavering.

Pan groaned, gripping his mead jug tightly. "All I wanted was to reunite you with her! This is what I get for trying to be nice?"

Present Moment:

Back on the island, Pan was still sprinting, his bare feet pounding against the soft grass as Puck tore after him with unrelenting determination. The border collie's sharp barks echoed through the clearing, each one laced with what Pan could only describe as divine vengeance.

Skidding to a halt near a grove of trees, Pan threw his hands in the air, his chest heaving. "Enough!" he bellowed, his voice reverberating through the air like thunder.

Puck stopped a few feet away, growling lowly, his eyes fixed on the god. His tail was stiff, and his entire stance screamed, I'm not done with you.

Pan, still catching his breath, raked his wild curls out of his face. "Look, I get it. You're mad. You think I'm some weirdo trying to steal you away from your mistress. Fair enough!" He pointed a finger at the dog, who didn't so much as flinch.

"But hear me out, okay?" Pan said, straightening up. "Now that I think about it, maybe it's better if you had your own adventure first. You know, some time to grow, discover yourself, do heroic dog things... instead of me just dropping you in her lap like a divine delivery boy."

Puck tilted his head slightly, his growl softening.

"Yeah, yeah! That sounds much better," Pan said, snapping his fingers enthusiastically. A swirling portal of golden light appeared behind him, shimmering like the surface of a sunlit pond. "So here's what I'm gonna do: I'm sending you to the same island she's on, just... in a different part of it. You'll have your own little journey, work out all that pent-up aggression, and when you finally meet up with Little Lamb, you'll be all smiles and tail wags."

Puck stared at him, his expression unreadable, but his ears twitched as if he was considering it.

"Trust me," Pan added, his grin wide and (hopefully) reassuring. "This is gonna be great for you. Character-building stuff."

Before Puck could protest—or bite him again—Pan snapped his fingers, and the border collie was swept into the portal with a soft whoosh.

The portal disappeared, leaving Pan alone in the clearing. He sighed in relief, collapsing onto the grass and wiping his brow.

"Finally," he muttered. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to outrun a mortal dog? I swear that thing has the stamina of a hydra."

Reaching for his ever-present jug of mead, Pan took a long, satisfying gulp. The golden liquid warmed him from the inside out, easing the tension in his shoulders.

"Hopefully, by the time those two meet up again, he'll have worked out whatever weird grudge he has against me," Pan said, leaning back against a tree. "And maybe, just maybe, I can finally get some peace."

He closed his eyes, a lazy smile on his face. "I deserve a nap. I'll tell little lamb when I get up."

And with that, the god of the wild drifted off into a well-earned slumber, the distant sounds of the island's creatures lulling him into dreams filled with mead, music, and much less dog drama.

{🐏}

Meanwhile, in a secluded part of the island, Puck emerged from the portal, his sharp senses immediately on high alert. The lush forest around him was alive with strange scents and sounds, and his tail wagged ever so slightly as curiosity began to replace his earlier frustration.

The border collie sniffed the air, his ears swiveling to catch the rustle of leaves and the faint hum of magical energy. There was something about this place that felt... right.

Puck let out a small bark, his determination reigniting. He didn't know where his mistress was, but he would find her.

'My... Human... Find.'

{🐏}

Back with Lyra, Lyra darted behind a thick tree trunk, her silver hair shimmering as she narrowly avoided another volley of arrows. The sharp whistling of projectiles cut through the air, followed by the dull thuds of arrows embedding themselves into the bark.

An hour ago, things had been peaceful. She and her companions had set out to explore more of the island, eager to uncover its secrets. They had stumbled into a dense, ancient forest filled with towering trees whose twisted roots snaked across the ground like veins.

It had been beautiful—until the arrows started flying.

Lyra peeked around the trunk, her celestial eyes glowing faintly as she surveyed the chaos. Her companions were scattered, dodging and weaving to avoid the centaurs that emerged from the underbrush.

The centaurs were wild and untamed, their humanoid torsos adorned with rudimentary armor made of bark and vines. Their eyes glinted with animalistic aggression, and their equine lower halves stomped the ground as they fired another barrage of arrows.

"Why can't you just talk to me!?" Lyra yelled, frustrated, as she ducked another arrow. She had tried reasoning with them when the attack first began, but it was clear these centaurs weren't sentient enough to understand speech—or, at the very least, weren't willing to listen.

"Master Lyra!" Aries called, their newly evolved ram's horns glowing faintly as they deflected a stray arrow with a summoned barrier of starlight. "We need a plan!"

Lyra groaned, glancing toward her companions. Aries, Orion, Aquila, and the others were holding their own, but it was clear they couldn't keep dodging forever.

"Working on it!" she shouted back, her mind racing.

Just as she was about to summon her Starlit Sanctuary for protection, the sound of rustling leaves and a loud, dramatic yell interrupted her thoughts.

From above, Pan came crashing down in a swirl of golden leaves, his jug of mead sloshing as he landed unceremoniously on the ground between Lyra's group and the advancing centaurs.

"What in Tartarus is going on here!?" he bellowed, barely catching himself before tipping over. His wild eyes scanned the scene, taking in the centaurs with their drawn bows and Lyra's exasperated expression. He really needed to stop falling asleep on the edge of the bed. He always falls off landing in whatever world he was last watching.

"Oh, great," Lyra muttered, rolling her eyes. "Just the dramatic entrance we needed."

The centaurs let out a collective roar and loosed another volley of arrows—this time aimed squarely at Pan.

Before Lyra could react, Pan raised his hands lazily, and a shimmering barrier of golden light appeared, deflecting the arrows like raindrops on glass.

"You're welcome," Pan said, glancing over his shoulder at Lyra with a smug grin.

"Don't expect a thank-you just yet," she replied dryly.

Pan turned back to the centaurs, who were already nocking another round of arrows. "Ah, I see. Wild centaurs. Not the sharpest hooves in the herd, are they?"

"Can you do something about them?" Lyra asked, still crouched behind the tree. "Talking doesn't seem to work, and they're kind of ruining our exploration."

Pan chuckled, taking a long swig of his mead. "I could."

"Then do it!"

The centaurs released another volley, and this time, Pan stepped forward, holding his jug out like a shield. The arrows harmlessly disintegrated against his golden aura, much to the centaurs' confusion.

"Now, now, my equine friends," Pan said, his voice taking on a commanding tone that echoed through the forest. "I am Pan, god of the wild, shepherds, and music. You're in this little shepherd's territory, and I don't appreciate you shooting at my little lamb here."

The centaurs paused, their primitive minds seemingly processing his words. For a brief moment, it looked like they might lower their weapons.

But then, one of them let out an enraged whinny and charged, their hooves thundering against the ground.

"Of course," Pan muttered, sidestepping the attack.

Lyra watched the chaos unfold, leaning casually against her tree trunk. When another group of centaurs loosed their arrows, Pan—mid-sip from his jug—became their primary target.

The arrows clattered harmlessly against his golden shield, but Lyra couldn't help smirking. "What a great body shield you make, Pan," she muttered under her breath.

Pan shot her a look, clearly having heard her. "Oh, don't start with me, little lamb. You're lucky I'm here!"

"Lucky? Sure," Lyra said, deadpan. "You're definitely making things... interesting."

Pan finally set his mead aside, cracking his knuckles. "All right, enough fun. Time to show them why they call me the god of music."

He raised his hands, and a deep, resonant melody filled the air, as though an unseen flute was playing a haunting tune. The centaurs froze, their aggression fading as the music wrapped around them like a calming fog.

One by one, their bows and arrows fell to the ground, and their wild eyes softened.

"There we go," Pan said, grinning. "Music soothes the savage beast, as they say."

Lyra stepped out from behind her tree, her arms crossed. "You could've done that sooner, you know."

Pan shrugged. "What can I say? I like to make some fun."

The centaurs, now pacified, began retreating deeper into the forest. Lyra sighed in relief, glancing at her companions.

"Well, that was... something," she said.

Aries approached, their calm demeanor hiding a flicker of irritation. "Are you all right, Master Lyra?"

"Fine," Lyra replied, brushing a stray leaf from her hair. She turned to Pan. "Thanks, I guess."

Pan smirked, retrieving his jug. "Anytime, little lamb."

Lyra's companions were busy shaking off the adrenaline from the centaur encounter, their humanoid forms radiating an ethereal calm despite the chaos they'd just endured. Lyra herself leaned against a sturdy tree, her celestial glow dimmed but still radiant.

As Pan's laughter echoed through the clearing, Lyra couldn't help but glare at him. "Why are you here anyway, Pan? Besides playing the world's worst backup?"

Pan grinned, his ever-present mead jug sloshing as he gestured dramatically with his free hand. "Ah, that's right! I almost forgot." He snapped his fingers, the golden glow of his magic pulsing outward. "I brought your furry friend over to this world for you."

Lyra blinked, her annoyance momentarily replaced with confusion. "My furry friend?"