The Woodsman placed a hand on the titanic vanguard that stood at the forests outer rim. A massive figure that had stood tall for over a hundred years. And had its path not crossed Hoppers, it may had withstood a hundred more. He hefted his axe over his shoulder, the familiar weight of the crimson steel feeling heavy on his shoulder. A burden that had been with him so long it almost felt apart of him.
With a loud grunt, the Woodsman swung. Falling into the same practiced rhythm from years of being a lumberjack. The thunk thunk thunk of his steady swing echoing like thunder through the dense greenwood. A twisted sneer on his face as each chop carried with it a deluge of emotions. Agitation as their last contract ended with nothing new in sight. Guilt as he told his crew they’ve ran out of work. Fear as the days turned into weeks, as bills went unpaid. Relief as after what seemed like eternity the call finally came in and finally joy as he met his crew to the jobsite that morning.
The moment stretched, the men watching with bated breath as it seemed the tree would defy gravity. It finally broke with a sharp snap, the emerald guardian succumbing to its own weight. His men were moving before the tree hit the ground. The sound of engines roaring to life around him. One squeezing his shoulder as they passed, a simple acknowledgment of all their collected gratitude they all were feeling. The Woodsman let out a deep, weary sigh. Looking up to watch a small, bird fly away towards the sun. Taking with it the last of his tension as another day of hard, but honest work, began.
Panic filled the Woodpeckers tiny heart as it raced through the carnage. Severed limbs falling around it, the little bird bobbing and weaving to stay in the air. A stray branch hits the Woodpeckers wing mid-flight, knocking it off course. The Woodpecker desperately correcting itself before it crashed into the forest floor.
The morning had started just like any other. The sun igniting the sky, turning the pitch of night into a slew of fiery reds and vibrant purples. Creatures of the night settling into their homes to make way for the creatures of the day, the Woodpecker being one of them. It groggily lifted itself off its clutch, stretched its wings, and took off in search of its first meal of the day. Everything long since falling into a routine.
It was the ear-splitting crack that made its way through the trees that first alerted the Woodpecker. The sound being quick but being carried by ominous winds. The Woodpecker raced back to its nest to ensure everything was alright, only to be met with carnage. Cedar obelisks, falling one by one. Attacked, by some hairless animal and great yellow beasts that they rode.
Without wasting another moment, the Woodpecker dove towards the attackers of its home. It’s tiny drill hammering away at the beast’s yellow hide, the colossus’ toothy maw toppling over another tree to the bird’s chagrin. One of the hairless creatures shooed the Woodpecker away, the bird only stopping when they began to throw small stones and branches. With no more fight left to give, the Woodpecker eventually ceases its crusade. Flying off into rising sun. In hopes for another home it can call its own.
Jayson J. 