Prologue

                                    

                                          
A lone chipmunk, or chipper as they call themselves, raced across the forest floor. Breath wheezed through the old one's mouth. Raspy, hoarse. No longer accustomed to running great distances.
                          
He tripped as a twig caught his haggard brown robe and landed heavy in the dirt. It took a few panting moments before he pulled himself up again. With a start, he reached for his pocket then let out a sigh of relief. The ink was still there, not broken. A glance behind showed no followers, but he knew it wouldn't be long. Once they knew, they would catch him. He kept running.
                          
At last, a look of hope crossed the chipper's face. A single red round door, nearly covered by leaves and forest debris, sat at the bottom of a great oak. Home. Or at least, what once was home. His aching bones pushed him forward and he pulled the door open. 
                          
The chipper squinted in the darkness of the tunnel beyond the door. Once these tunnels were lined with lanterns always kept full. Now sat stale air and dust. He moved forward, knowing the way by feel alone. Damp soil crumbled at his paw's touch. He never thought he would miss such a thing so dearly.
                          
"Please be there," he whispered before letting out a hacking cough.
                          
Mere minutes which seemed to stretch into hours went by. Each little noise from behind him brought on a new level of panic. Had they found him yet? Would they catch him so close to his goal? The tunnel curved tight to the right and sure enough, the door in the alcove was still there. Of course, all of the chippers had known of its placement, but to a squirrel or other predator rushing down the corridors in the dark it was practically invisible. Or so the chipper hoped. 
                          
The door gave way with a groan as the old one pushed his weight against it. Objects clattered to the ground as his paws felt for the tinderbox. They hadn't found the room then or they would have cleared it completely he was sure. One small relief in what had been a nightmare of months. He deftly struck the box and used the sparks to light a nearby candle. How often he had sat in the very same place by candlelight writing before. Tears drifted down his face and along his whiskers as he allowed himself a few moments to take in the room he thought he'd never see again.
                          
The moments didn't last long. He needed to get to work.
                          
The chipper pulled a piece of crackled parchment across his oaken desk. He panicked for a second seeing the empty inkpot to the side, but then remembered and pulled the new one from his pocket. The squirrels would have his hide for that alone. Stealing was not permitted. Running away, less so. 
                          
He reached for a feather quill, dipped it in ink, wished his paws would stop their incessant shaking, and began to write:

---
                          
Year of the Dead Moon, Autumn,
                          
These may well be my last words. I only hope they one day provide some key for our people's future if only to help in not forgetting the past.
                          
The squirrel king's guard, the Ferrir, they came without warning. They were...they are savage. Brutal. They cited treason as they pulled us from our homes, yet we had done no such thing. They told us of tithes needing to be paid. Would we have fought harder had we have known those tithes were meant to be paid in blood?
                          
We are too weak now, dear one. Too scared. But one day we will be strong. One day we will have the chance to rise up, and you must help our people see it. I fear we will become complacent in our servitude. It is the chipper way. It must not be so, or all will forever be lost.
                          
Have courage. Be brave. Stand strong. Free our people. 
                          
All the words I wish to write, but cannot. You will need to be enough.
                          
They're coming.
                          
-Soleil
Last record chipper of Underoak
                          
---
                          
The door behind the old chipper smashed open. Candlelight flashed against a silver blade. With one swift motion, all became stale darkness in the tunnels once more.