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It was the first notes of birdsong, and Ash Rain had the misfortune of being the only fool between two marching armies.
Eyes red and crimson fur patchy from stress, Rain had managed to escape the clearing the evening before like every other critter caught between the Marquis and the Dynasties. Everybody he knew was safe in the thickets with as much of their affects as they could carry or load into wagons and carts. They would spend the day in the forest, living off of the food they brought with them, and when the bloodshed was over, they would return to their homes in the clearing and discern both who their new overlord was, and also how much was still standing after all the pillaging, plundering, scavenging, and outright burglary. Even Ash’s own belongings were waiting safely well off from the fighting.
The problem, unfortunately, was that his brother was not.
It wasn’t until Rain was nearly ready to simply fall asleep that he realized the absence. He spent the last embers of the bonfires asking around, only to find that nobody had seen his younger brother leave home, or arrive in the temporary camp. The midnight moon was spent wandering the woods, calling out, trying to find him in case he, as often happened, got lost or turned around. It wasn’t until dawn began to arrive that Rain was forced to conclude that Wind was not in the forest: he was still in the clearing, which was about to be home to warriors throwing axes and arrows and paying very little attention as to where those things were going.
It took disappointingly little time to find Wind once Rain returned to the village proper: he was sitting on a rooftop.
“Rain!” Wind greeted, hearing his brother’s approach. “Come up, you can barely see them cresting the hills over there!”
“Wind,” Rain said, “we need to get to the woods! Now!”
“Nonsense,” Wind waved his tobacco pipe. “The armies are fighting all the way over there.”
“The armies aren’t going to stay over there, Wind!” Rain cried up. “Do you want to get stabbed, crushed, shot through, burnt up?”
“Well no, not especially,” Wind shrugged. “But I would certainly like to watch the fighting. I think it will prove a sporting match up. The Cat’s got two battalions against one, but the Birds have brought a little surprise, I can see!”
“That doesn’t—” Rain started, but stopped. “What surprise?”
“Well come up and looksies!”
Rain stared a moment, then sighed a very small, very quiet sigh.
When he arrived on the rooftop after a few seconds of clambering up the place, Rain looked out on the horizon. Atop the hills to the east was a gathering army, and to the west was the garrison of the Marquis, neatly organized and pragmatically equipped. Arrows had not yet taken flight, but would any moment.
“I see no surprise, Wind,” Rain rubbed his brow. “Just the armies.”
“Hold a moment…” Wind hold a single digit up. “You’ll see it.”
“All I see is the sun rising.”
“Ho ho!” Rain laughed. “Just so!”
“You’ve lost me, Rain, now can we please get out of here?!”
“Wind, there’s no need! The battle’s all but won! The Birds will chase the Cats out, no problem, no issue, no mess.”
“Rain…”
“Watch.”
Arrows took flight… but only from the east. The Marquis’ forces charged, while the Dynasty’s did not.
“…the archers,” Wind realized. “They aren’t shooting.”
“’Cause they can’t see,” Rain winked, standing up and taking a nice long puff from his pipe. “Sun’s in their eyes. Oh, they can shoot alright, and waste their arrows. But the Birds can rain down on them all they like, and the little tommies will be fighting the arrows, the hill, and the sun. May as well be two on four, at this point.”
“Look at them, they’re getting slaughtered…”
“Mm,” Rain nodded. “Food for the vultures. The Birds will take them down, move in, and we’ll wait for the Cat, or the Alliance, or someone else to move in.”
“Someone else?”
“Well maybe the Otters care for us and our custom,” Rain said. “Or a big hole will open up with moles offering this and that for us to say ‘we love moles so so much.’ Woodlands being the way they are these days, you can never know.”
The battle ended nearly as quickly as it started. Survivors in full rout, as the Dynasty descended on the clearing to make their rule known. A Roost would be established, with a court of nobles assembled to govern and scheme and plot. The Marquis would plot vengeance, or perhaps was already moving on another clearing. The Alliance would whisper and roar and recruit and strike when nobody expects it.
Wind sat down. Rain passed the pipe. Without a word, Wind drew on it, long and quiet.
“Rain,” Wind said. “You didn’t come to watch the fight, did you?”
“No, brother mine, I didn’t.”
“You’ve gotten involved, haven’t you?”
“I have.”
“With who?”
“If I tell you,” Wind sat next to him, “you’d have to sign on with them.”
“Would I want to do that?”
“That’s for you to decide, brother mine.”
Rain thought, and thought for a good long while.
“Suppose I’ve nothing to lose,” he decided. “If you’re to be caught between… may as well pick a side.”