Flare had been making a point to stop by the hospital after work to see the ram. The nurses would smile at him as they went through, making sure their patients were still stable. The stallion would sit by the sheep's side, gazing over his unmoving form and pondering just what he could've been thinking when he made the decision to jump. Flare was no stranger to such internal strife, himself. He thought back to one day in his youth...

---

It was a bright, cool day in the neighborhood. Perfect for delivering newspapers, certainly. A young looking black colt with a white tipped muzzle was dutifully trotting along the sidewalk, setting papers at the doorsteps of his customers. He had a nice route, with customers that were kind to him. Not to mention it helped pay for all the sugar cubes at the corner store he liked to pick up on the other end of his route.

The young shire's mind was troubled lately though. How could you believe in something you couldn't see? Was it alright to take something on faith alone? What if it was your parents telling you? Maybe the reverend? Even if the message seemed correct, something about it felt off.

Tilting his head to the sky, the colt wordlessly spoke to the heavens, asking for guidance, a sign, something to show that perhaps he wasn't crazy. Of course, nothing happened, but what was he expecting? God doesn't answer directly, he knew that. So the shire kept on trotting out to one customer that was a street off from his usual path. Dropping the newspaper in the box like usual, he trotted back to the final leg of his route.

Rounding the corner onto Williams Street, his gaze was drawn upwards. Letting out a small cry of shock, he nearly fell to his knees on the rough sidewalk. There, above the stone church on the corner, was a cross formed of clouds that the stallion swore wasn't there a minute ago. Perfectly shaped, with the sun reflecting off of it. He stared at it, wondering if he was hallucinating; but it did not disappear. He drew a cross on his chest quickly, and thanked God for his infinite mercy in showing him the path.

The colt walked with purpose down that last street on his route, delivering papers to the house across from the church. He looked skyward to see if the cross was there, but it had vanished completely. There was nothing but blue sky anywhere; no clouds in the sky at all. Had he been dreaming? As he approached the pastor's residence and delivered the paper, he paused, wondering if he should ask about what he saw. Shaking his head, he realized the pastor would just think that he was another crazy kid, and maybe stop delivery of the paper. But the cross of clouds would stick with the colt....

That sunday, the shire felt very strong going to church with his parents, his devotion increased. Surely this was the right way. He had seen with his own eyes....

---

Flare sighed, shaking his head at the memories. It seemed so long ago; he had left the church, dyed his own hide, and found his fancy with other men. Nobody had told him to leave, rather departing of his own accord when he was unable to find the answers to why he was doing what he was doing.

Faith is a powerful thing, he thought to himself. It gets you through times like this, when nothing really makes sense. It's easy to turn to faith and hope, because they never truly go away. Perhaps that is why he had kept that coin the man had placed on his table at Starbucks with the cross on it; a reminder of what he had seen, and believed in, so long ago. So here he was, praying that this ram that he didn't know would come out of it; perhaps the shire was looking for answers of his own within the ram.