Tyson Fleece Throw

	Tyson reached up and lifted the Fleece off its branch. Immediately the leaves on the oak tree turned yellow. Tyson started wading back toward me, but I yelled, “No time! Throw it!”
	The gold ram skin sailed through the air like a glittering shag Frisbee. I caught it with a grunt. It was heavier than I’d expected-sixty or seventy pounds of precious gold wool.