Llama Drama - In It To Win It!. Rose Impey

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      Then Lewie had decided to stage a big variety show, and everything changed. When they performed, the sheep and the lambs showed that they were individuals after all. They had completely different talents and personalities, which was the very problem now.

      As they practised the obedience tasks, most of the sheep suddenly had their own ideas and were determined to be heard.

      “No, no, no. This is the bit where we turn right,” said Ginger bossily.

      “I think you’ll find it was left,” argued Sheila.

      “It was straight on, actually,” shouted Shula.

      “I think we should do a reverse turn here,” suggested Shona.

      “I’ve got a better idea,” volunteered Shirley as she demonstrated a series of sidesteps and shimmies. “Rubbish!” snapped Shelley. “I’m not doing that.”

      It was as if the sheep had forgotten how to work as a team, how to be obedient. Lewie shook his head and wished his sheep could be more … well … sheep-like.

      Things weren’t much better with the lambs, either. Although Shep, Shoo, Shane, Sheba, Shah and Bertie were still happy to do exactly as Lewie told them, their problem was trying too hard. And controlling their nerves. Just the thought of the County Fair had the lambs’ legs turning to jelly.

      With lots of encouragement from Lewie, the lambs managed to complete most of their routines, until it came to their famous Lamb Pyramid. This relied on perfect timing and balance, and the lambs had always been able to perform it well.

      But suddenly, now, each time Shoo scrambled up to complete the pyramid, Bertie, who was on the bottom, got a case of the wobbles. Then the whole pyramid collapsed and disappeared into a giggling, woolly heap.

      “Whoops-a-daisy!” squealed Shoo.

      “Somebody’s sitting on my tail!” squeaked Shep.

      “Get off my head!” bleated Bertie, who then burst into tears.

      Lewie had told Bertie that as he was the biggest and strongest, he was the anchor-lamb. Everything relied on him standing firm. Like his mother, Ginger, Bertie was a tough character. But now, for some reason, he kept losing his nerve. He knew he was letting everyone down.

      “I’m so sorry,” he bleated.

      The other lambs gathered around Bertie, nudging him gently.

      “You’ll be fine. You’ll all be fine. Just keep practising,” Lewie reassured them.

      But in truth, with only a week left to the County Fair, Lewie began to wonder how they would ever pull it all together into a prize-winning performance.

      Of course, the only person Lewie allowed to hear his doubts was his twin sister, Liberty, who slipped out of the llama enclosure each evening for a bedtime chat. She soon lifted Lewie’s spirits. “You’re unbeatable, Lew,” she told him. “The sheep and lambs are working so hard, and with you leading them no other Guard Llama has a chance of winning.”

      Lewie prayed that his sister was right. He thought of everyone whose hopes were pinned on him: Mama and Papa Llama, the farmer and his daughter, Millie, who’d always believed in Lewie. Then there were the sheep and the lambs too …

      “You’re just having last-minute nerves,” Liberty told him.

      Lewie smiled back. Yes, that’s all it was, just a bit of stage fright. He must keep it to himself. He didn’t want the sheep or the lambs to lose any more confidence.

      Lewie started to allow himself to feel a little excited at the thought of their forthcoming adventure. “County Fair, here we come!” he said, grinning.

      Not far away, another group of animals was getting excited at the prospect of the County Fair too. It was an important annual event for the local coyotes, who were already gathering from around the county. It was their chance to inspect at close quarters the best, prize-winning livestock in the area. It was a predator’s shop window, a not-to-be-missed opportunity to check out the juiciest, most mouth-watering flock of sheep. Some of the younger, bolder coyotes, confident they’d snatch a tender lamb or two, were arguing over the perfect accompaniment for their lamb chops.

      Mint sauce was the simplest and the best, agreed several coyotes.

      Others preferred cranberry jelly.

      Hot tangy mustard was popular too, and red wine and rosemary relish was favoured by some classier coyotes.

      Captain Coyote, who was much older, reminded the youngsters what a risky venture it would be. Farmers weren’t about to allow their best animals to be picked off right under their noses. Far better, in Captain’s view, to do a little window-shopping, then visit the tastiest flock back on its own farm, when security wouldn’t be quite so tight.

      “Remember, you young fellas,” said Captain, quoting one of his personal mottos, “He who retreats lives to hunt another day. Yes, siree.”

      But these youngsters weren’t interested in retreating, or listening to an old coyote’s words of warning.

      “Lost your nerve, Grandpa?” one young hothead, called Clutterbuck, asked him. He liked to think of himself as a budding leader. “You do the babysitting, old fella. Leave the hunting to us.”

      “Those of us who’ve still got the nerve for it,” added another scary-looking animal, called Crazycoot, who’d had so many brushes with danger he only had half a tail left.

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