She had followed the edge of the forest, as the three raccoons told her to. Soon enough, she found herself right at the bank of a river. It was wide. However, it had nearly no current and hardly a ripple was seen across the waters. So she began building herself a raft.
She gathered a couple of fallen branches and began tying them together with some grass fibers. In a couple of minutes, she was able to build herself a raft which was sturdy enough to carry a squirrel like her across the river. Another branch for an oar and she was ready to go. She used the oar to propel herself out into the water.
The weather was fine enough. It was incredibly sunny and it began making her feel uncomfortable underneath her thick fur. Having come from the North, her fur has adapted for cold weather. She was just glad that it wasn’t raining.
She was nearing the other side when something appeared to rock her raft. It bobbed up and down. Shocked, she looked below.
It was a crocodile! Huge jaws opened, revealing a gleaming set of sharp, razor-like, white teeth. Antler barely dodged the bite. It instead chomped her raft into pieces.
In the water, she was extremely vulnerable. Her fur, which absorbed the water, was beginning to drag her down and limit her movement. That wasn’t a very interesting thing to happen now, especially with the crocodile inches from her.
This is it, dreaded Antler, Once I get chomped into many little pieces, I’ll join the Maker. I won’t be able to find an answer for Apple’s question. She closed her eyes in preparation for her end, but didn’t get it. She opened an eye. And she saw the crocodile crying.
It was sobbing. Wait, she thought, crocodiles can cry fake tears. It could be a trap. So she watched it closely. When she saw that it was still crying, she slowly began making the swim to the other side. He still wasn’t noticing!
She reached the riverbank, panting and shaking off water from her fur. She decided to run into the city beyond but then she looked back at the sobbing crocodile. It was still in the water, its back turned.
She remembered its face earlier. It was raw with emotion. They were genuine tears of sadness. She could help but feel pity for the crocodile and so she went to the riverbank and jumped into the water.
She swam into the muddy water, feeling her fur get wet and heavy again. When she reached the crocodile’s back, she climbed its tail to its back. It still didn’t notice her, even when she was on it already. What was more surprising to her was that he was mumbling. “I’m sorry… please…try to smile and be happy.”
Tears still gushed from its eyes. Antler knocked on its head. “Hello, Crocodile?” The croc was surprised to hear its prey on its head. Sudden movements made Antler know it was beginning to twist, to bring her back down into the water.
I knew returning was a bad idea! Antler thought. Suddenly, mid-twist, it stopped and sadly returned to its former position.
“I don’t care anymore, Squirrel. Just get off and swim.”
Antler was determined to get to the bottom of his sadness. “What’s your name, Crocodile, and why are you crying?”
“None of your business! Run before I decide to eat you!”
Finally, the crocodile broke and looked behind at her. “My name is Pedro. I’m the only crocodile in this river.”
Antler was amusedly surprised. “My friends tell me there are a lot of crocodiles in this river. Tell me, how do you explain that?”
Pedro began swimming in a swift, smooth motion, gliding across the water, swimming leisurely. “I have been eating a lot lately. When I see a bunch of animals by the riverbank, I eat them and vanish so quickly that creatures assume that there are more of me in this river.”
Pedro turned to her. “However, I don’t usually eat this much.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Pedro explained, “You see, I only eat more when I’m upset. And I am seriously upset.”
Antler nodded. “It shows, Pedro.” She stood up from her sitting position.
“My name is Antler. I travel southwest from the Forest of the North.”
“Antler, eh?” He began fidgeting as he swam. “You might laugh at why I’m sad.” Antler rested a paw on the head of Pedro. “Don’t worry, you can tell me.”
Pedro twitched as he launched into a long story. “There’s this young rooster on the farm near the river. That one.”
He turned his snout to face a light that shone brightly in the dusk. “I have been observing him closely. He keeps being taken away and returned, ruffled and a little beaten-up. However, he was always fine and strong every time he came back. Then, starting two weeks ago, the once proud and loud rooster has been crying; singing songs of sadness, tears pouring out his eyes.”
“You see, when Kyros was young, he had a dear friend named Trevor. In that farm, they grew together and had developed a friendship that ran real deep. They were kindred spirits in every way. They both disliked the bland tasting supplements and grains that were added into their food, loved to take baths in the pond, and peck for worms. However, most obvious was their shared dream to be esteemed battle stags. They trained together, worked hard together, and had fun together.”
“Soon, they were on their way to be fighting in the arena. Unfortunately for Kyros, Trevor was lost to another rooster farm after the owner of the farm lost a bet to that farm’s owner. Thus, at the age of six months, the two friends were separated. It was quite a blow to young Kyros, but he lived on the inspiration his friend gave him while he was still on the farm. ‘Work hard and you shall achieve your dreams!’ he kept crowing. So you can say that Trevor was the reason for his cockfighting excellence. Until the day he was forced to fight Trevor in a derby two weeks ago.”
“In the derby, a fellow fighter cock representing his and Kyros’s farm oversaw the fight. His name was Drew, and he told all that he saw to me in person. When they were (for checking), both were surprised to see each other there as shown by the electrified look in their eyes. However, their happiness at seeing each other was stopped when they realized they were in a cockfight, pitted against each other. They were set loose in the fighting area. They crowed to each other that they would not kill each other in the fight, and when one of them got tired or hurt, he would surrender and appear cuppled. So, they rushed at each other, knocking and clawing and beating wings. They both were very good battle stags, and it appeared that they were evenly matched. However, they made sure they wouldn’t cause each other serious damage; attacking as if they were still sparring in the farm. Then an unfortunate thing happened. A rich cocker betted twice as much for a request to be granted. They would wear long-knives as weapons. When the decision was announced, the people cheered. They obviously loved the decision and apparently, so did the arena owner. The only ones not happy with the decision were the two friends. With wide eyes, they were plucked from the battlefield and fitted with one long-knife each, tied to their left feet. Drew said he knew for certain that a fatal wound on one of them was now imminent. With no way to bluff now and with the roaring crowd behind them, they had no choice but to fight each other. Their eyes, Drew said, told me that it was incredibly hard for them to maim each other, being best friends.”
“They were pitted a couple more times. However, the pits they had became communication. They said sorry to each other before they were released again, this time with the heavy, sharp long knives. And so they slowly edged toward each other. Now, you see, Antler, cockfights usually last no more than 45 seconds. However, this fight between friends lasted longer. It lasted thrice as long as usual. For more than 2 minutes, they slugged it out, with grace and finesse, beating at each other with their wings and their claws, outfitted with the lethal blades. The commentators and audience went wild. ‘This is cockfighting excellency here, folks! The blows are so powerful and lightning fast, yet none of them seems to have been cuppled yet! Exciting!’ For them maybe, but for Drew, it was painful to watch. Right then, there wasn’t any damage dealt yet, but he could tell that blow would come in the next couple of seconds.”
“The guess was right. A sparkling blow by Kyros to the neck of Trevor effectively killed him. This was affirmed by three drops. One… two… three. Kyros became derby champion. But at what price? The life of his friend, who was his inspiration for many months. The farm had a shiny trophy to boast, but Kyros was heartbroken. He had killed his own best friend.” Antler clutched her chest as she sobbed. The way he told it, it was almost as if I were feeling Kyros’s pain. “In the Maker, everything has a purpose.” said Antler, “I’m sure this has a purpose as well.”
“Purpose?” snarled Pedro, “If this event had a purpose, then the Maker must be a truly cruel being to let this happen.”
Antler stood on his back. “I’ll console him.” Pedro looked sadly at her.
“Don’t bother. The hens and cocks there believe he’s inconsolable.”
“I’ll try though! If I manage to make him smile again, will you be happy?”
Pedro shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Okay, then. I’ll console him.” She jumped into the water again, warmer this time. Probably because of the tears.
In the dark blue, she followed the lights of the farm. She got up the trees lining the side of the riverbank and quickly sprinted across them until she got to a tree with a branch directly overhanging the farm. Nothing about this farm was happy at all, even in night.
A cold, white light shone above all the perches and coops, making the chickens appear like silhouettes of themselves. Besides, now was not the time to get down there.
A dog, almost statue-like, sat among the chicken coops. If it spotted her, either it would maul her or its barking would call the attention of the derby owner and it would shoot her.
She decided to sleep in this maple tree for the night.