Hog Island

In spite of the bleeding slash on his thigh, Darrel caught his breathe after he’d somehow managed to make it out to Hog Island, his eyes now pinned on the feral sheep approaching his hiding place from every side. He had no bandages and no time was left to stuff anything, dried leaves or mud, into his pants leg to still the weeping wound. He tried to slow his breathing. The sound seemed to attract even more of the endangered species. His eyes scanned the herd, looking for a break in their rank...