A scream was what Gilligan received in response to his innocent question. It was quite a blood curdling scream. One that shocked him to the core. Gilligan leapt to his feet in a single motion. His right hand instinctively went to grip the hilt of his sword, though it wasn't there. He dropped it on the ground with the rest of his stuff before.

He quickly found the source of the terrifying scream. It came from a goat that was standing nearby. Odd, Gilligan thought, he never noticed it there before. It was one of those stupid screaming goats. The grey, shaggy goat let out yet another scream. 

Gilligan let out a burst of laughter. Those kind of goats always cracked him up as a kid. They still did. He wanted to raise a flock of them one day, if he ever got the money. He wouldn't be very popular with the neighbours though. Those things were always as noisy as heck.

Unfortunately, the sheep he was resting his head on wandered away. Gilligan once more considered his choices.

He could try to sleep here in this meadow for the night, though he did have to do something about that screaming goat. Shoo it away maybe? Perhaps slaughter it then boil it in a stew?

Besides, this was probably some farmers land. And those animals probably belonged to a farmer as well. Farmers wielded pitchforks, and they weren't afraid to use them against intruders and possible livestock rustlers. Though it should be noted that the glen wasn't fenced off from the road, so there's a good chance it wasn't private property.

Or maybe Gilligan could stop being so lazy and take his defeated butt home. The choice was his.