She could rein them in, whenever she wanted.
If she wanted.
Left to themselves, she knew, they may wander off out of her sight.
She sat there, face drawn, watching them graze. Occasionally her tired eyes would stray longingly across the green valley and the barely visible stretch of Desert, to the farthest horizon, from where a low rumble suggested the presence of the Ocean. She never knew if it really existed. Was the sound a mirage as well? Could it carry so well across the desert and the valley?
The Mountain behind was real, for sure; it was powerful, yet calm. It was closer physically, if not in spirit.
The Ocean was forever luring her with its song.
Yet, it would be unwise to leave the shade and the comfort of the Mountain and attempt to cross the vast Desert, where there was no certainty of finding an Oasis, let alone the Ocean.
Besides, who knows... for whom the Ocean sings!
She was no wanderer; there was no wander-lust left in her. It was the heart-wrenching longing that the songs induced in her that left her unsettled.
On days of thunder and rainstorm, when water and wind lash against the valley, she would again look outwards toward the horizon where the Song still played its invitation to her.