We, occupied-Part 3
Autumn continued on to winter, the trees along the meadows edges turning from green to yellow and red, eventually falling to the ground. Rumors of the Aggressors continued to arrive, their warpath cutting across the map, through the land of tribe after tribe. Over the shortening days the snow began falling. First, frost covered the tall blades of grass, eventually folding them under the weight.
Over the turning seasons the inhabitants of the meadow turned more and more to Red-furred for wisdom and stability. The impending threat hung heavily in the air, permeating every day tasks with a sense of importance and special events ever so slightly with desperation, would this be the last that is openly celebrated? Despite the atmosphere and the speculations Red-furred steadily promoted normalcy all the while planning in his own mind how he would riposte Aggressors encroachment should it occur.
Then, one day while Red-furred unearthed part of his winter supply he heard drumming in the distance. The sound of footsteps echoed through the meadow.
“No, no, please don’t let it be true.” He whispered.
With this he took off running towards the East boarder. When he arrived at the edge Red-furred ducked under a bush to avoid being seen by the eyes of the feet so ominously pacing towards his homeland. There he waited, his heart beating in sync with the drums, in anticipation of what would be disclosed in among the surrounding tree trunks.
The sun set with no revelation. Red-furred resolved to wait until his suspicions were proven true or false. Curled up in the bush he settled in for the night. Though he fought sleep his eyelids eventually fell, dragging him into a restless sleep.
The bushes around him began to rustle, the earth tremoring as if in fear. Red furred peaked through the leaves to see the feet, feet caked with mud and callouses. The sun was peaking in-between the trunks and horizon. Redfurred took in his surroundings. The underbrush trampled under hundreds of hoofs. How had he slept through the trampling of the forest floor, ferns once majestically standing upright bent in the stalks, sadly on the ground. Redfurred cries out in dismay. Three sets of feet turn towards the bush he is hiding in. A series of unintelligible grunts and snorts pass between the creatures.
https://steemit.com/fiction/@corbie/a-legend-of-the-occupied-part-1
https://steemit.com/writing/@corbie/we-occupied-part-2
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