Polyphemus sat in his cave alone, it was a beautiful day outside. He waves were high, it was breezy, the grass was green.. but there wasn't any sheep's singing.

Odysseus blinded the cyclops and stole all his sheeps, they were likely all dead and on the crews plates. Polyphemus prayed to his father to avenge his friends, there was a huge storm last night so Polyphemus felt a small mix of pride but overall it was nothing in comparison to his pain.

"Sheeps..." He cleaned his bloodied club as he wiped his tears. But then he heard a small 'baa' in the distance, he dropped the club and got onto his knees, trying to feel for wool. Hope evident in his expression as his tears grew. "Sheep? Where are you?"