He crouches at the knees and stalks toward the invisible predator. Up comes his imaginary rifle. He fires, and his performance ends. Two or three. You've got to kill wolves.
Wolves kill sheep.
Luis Barrientos jots some notes and drives away from the shepherd. His usually playful brown eyes grow somber. The people hate it. It's a bad topic, and the wolf has a bad future. The war against the wolf continues.