To wispfox‘s prompt
Morning came, and Lazhman slipped out of the house and into the herd. When he could, he slept among the goats, too, but the census-counter was in town, and everyone had been pressuring him, act normal, Lazhman. Act like a person and not a goat.
Lazhman had no interest in such things, but he did sometimes like bread and stew and, to be fair, didn’t have the stomach the goats did. So he spent most his time among the herd, let his beard grow like a goat’s and his hair as well, twisted two braids to look something like goat-horns when nobody was looking, and spent just enough time in town to convince people to keep selling him bread and stew.
He’d done that, last night. Now he could sit out on the hill near Copper and Counter and the other goat, watch the clouds and the river move by, and have no cares except the wildcats and the occasional bandit.
What? Words? Lazhman snorted and looked around.
“Hello.” She’d snuck up behind him, how had she done that? “I’m Liegya.” The census-taker, that’s who she was. “I’d like to talk to you.”
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