Chapter 16
“No,” Ardo cried out, what he was hoping was that his words would be carried over the crowd. “We cannot go to war. There is a bigger picture. Listen to me.”
“Ardo?” Chief Bushy Tail looked down from the podium at the small gray figure making its way through the mass by the part it was forcing. “My condolences for your father.”
“Chief, please hear me out,” Ardo shouted panting. “The birds could not possibly be responsible. They do not have the intelligence, nor do they have the drive to follow through. They are a species of hunting, eating, and mating. They care nothing of making a statement, and what happened with my father was a statement of grandeur.”
“Ardo,” Chief Bushy Tail shook his head slowly from side to side, his hears twitching slightly with each pass. “We all understand the hardships that are before you, and none of us can truly feel what you are feeling, but we need to strike back to show we are not merely a low link of the food chain. If we look weak in front of the forest, than we are in for a world of hurt. We cannot let them all walk, or rather soar all over us.”
“Listen to reason,’ Ardo screamed at the top of his rodent lungs. “This is irrational and hasty. Please.” Ardo knew that part of this war was personal for the Chief, but he did not dare bring it up at this juncture. Ardo knew that the Chief’s father lost his tail while narrowly escaping the talons of a sky hunter, but to declare war on all of the birds in the forest was just insane, not to mention suicide for all those involved. Ardo wanted to choose his next words very carefully, but what happened next drew all the words from his mouth leaving him speechless. Horror pumped through his veins at the source of his continually breaking heart as he knew what was going to happen and all he could do was watch it in what felt like an eternity; the Big Oak was starting to sway at the trunk.
Chapter 17
Scribbles stood on the outskirts of the crowd, first hearing the loud chatter of panic, and then seeing hundreds of fleeing squirrels bounding his way. At first he could not tell what was the cause of the commotion; had someone attacked the Chief? An assassination attempt in such an open forum was never attempted before? Who would have the gall? Was there a threat of some kind? Some new news of Hem, some horrific news capable of disbanding a crowd?
The reporter and writer in Scribbles pushed him to step forward rather than turn tail and flee like the rest, but what he witnessed, he wished he had not chosen to be brave for the first time in his life.
Chapter 18
Toby was still pushing around others when it began, and once he realized exactly what was happening he had one thought and one thought only; where was his family?
Were they to meet in the field for the picnic, or at his office? Remember you fool, Toby scolded himself. Field or office. Park or tree? Remember, you damn fool, remember.
Deep down in his heart he knew where they were, but he did not want to accept the truth. No, they must have come to hear the speech. Tress was very patriotic and would not miss the speech for anything. Come on Tress, please have come out for the speech.
Chapter 19
Chief Bushy Tail turned his attention from the grief stricken recently fatherless squirrel and faced the Big Oak. A beacon of hope, a staple of home, and the center of their economic prosperity, even if the stock of acorns had been suffering unbeknownst to most. They needed this tree, but it was obvious to all what was conspiring. The Chief watched in horror as the tree began to teeter at its base and after a number of sways countable on one paw, the pivot point gave way and the massive and impressive natural column rapidly traversed from vertical to horizontal with decreasingly fast angles.
Chapter 20
Chief Bushy Tail dove from his branch and was immediately caught mid air by those squirrels who have sworn to protect him through thick and thin; this event falling under the classification of thick, whereas a struggle keeping afloat in a pool might be lumped into thin. Ardo watched through panicked eyes as the commanding unit of the Dreys was pulled to safety while he himself was anywhere but. He tried to turn and start a retreat after he factored that the falling tree would demolish everything hundreds of feet from the crash zone, and this crash zone happened to be right where he was standing. Ardo’s attempt at finding an egress was foiled by the wall of gray backs he now faced, who were too confused and frightened to do anything in an orderly manner. The rear line made effortless attempts to climb over those in front of them, every squirrel for themselves, in what looked like rolling waves of fur amid a dreary hurricane.
Ardo did not want to resort to pushing and shoving, but as the tree wobbled and finally snapped from its base, there was no other option than to join the masses. Ardo jumped up onto the heads of his tribe, knowing that most of the faces he now saw would not wake to feel the rays of the sun tomorrow, but he himself did not want to be lumped into the masses; in general he usually strived to go against the grain.
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