A Nightingale's Tale

"Live like you die tomorrow"

The Birds;

He first came when the sun set. The fledglings were still squawking on the highest branches when he slinked through the undergrowth- mischief in his steps. The great night hunters- The Owls sat in wait, their bright amber eyes following his tracks. While the songbirds went to sleep, the Owls would remember and whisperer the tales to the singers to spread through the forest upon daybreak. The Mockingbird sings his melancholy echo. His interest perked in the figure passing below. The Nightingale watches: his wife flits beside him worry sparking in her nimble eyes. He would shift closer to her, narrowing his gaze at the uneasy human far below their branch. Tittering a comfort to his love he followed. Hopping branch to branch, flapping through the leaves, the moonlight shining on the man's slick jacket. The Nightingale would find himself at a human gathering. A flock meeting is what the others called them. Flocks of humans, the smaller females nestling closer to the males, fledgling humans running about yelling with sticks in their hands. After a while a mothering human would snatch a fledgling much to the Nightingales approval. If the fledgling is too rowdy push them back into the nest. He planned greatly with his wife. This mysterious human wouldn’t ruin anything. The Nightingale hopped lower moving to the dangerous ground, he worried of his mate- she would leave him if he couldn’t protect her enough. Hearing a rustle behind him he quickly hopped up to a branch. Shaking the bad feeling, The Nightingale squawked startling the man. He chuckled out a song as the man shouted a string of curses at him. The Nightingale puffed himself up. He was no crow making fun of humans- he was a Nightingale- protecting his mate. Proud of himself, he made his way back to his wife. They were safe.

The Fox;

She listened to the calls. A male was somewhere nearby. His high-pitched yips beckoning her nearer. The Fox cocked her head, trotting closer to the male. She saw him at first in the brush. He was sitting politely under a holly bush, sheltered from the cool winter breeze. Stepping out from the shadows she whined. He quickly noticed her, his dogged features exciting. The Vixen cowered a little, he nuzzled closer snapping at her orange tipped ears. Joy sprouting in her she yipped at him- only causing his excitement to grow. They quickly snapped at one another tussling into a bush. The Vixen paused, shushing him as he growled low. A human was passing through. She could hear a Nightingale higher up, following the humans tracks. Stepping lightly, she led the other fox along with her. Tensing up in a bush she narrowed her sights on the little bird. It had foolishly decided to enter her domain. Then the male ruined it. He shook out his pelt, nipping at a stinky bud. Twisting around at him she snarled; the bird was gone. He cowed quickly. She heard the human growling suddenly- the Nightingale had angered it. Her interest heightened she crept under the brush, intent on observing this strange human that had wandered into her home. He tromped along a deer path, heading towards a human skulk, leash, earth-whichever you pleased to call it. The humans were always so crazed- yelping and grunting like a boar. Boars were scary though, humans were not. The Vixen noticed a glimmering thing in his pelt hole. Black and shiny. Something a crow would be pleased to see. Or steal. She ran ahead, leaving behind the bumbling male. Screeching out into the path she panted, looking up at the surprised man. He garbled something at her, shaking his hand. She had absolutely no idea why she did that. She plopped down blinking innocently at the human. Maybe it would give her a morsel of human food. Human food tasted wonderful. He grunted something, shaking his head. She whined when he walked pat her, kicking up dust. He yelled back at her. Shrinking back, she scampered into the woods. She did not like that human. He was odd. And mean. Scrunching her nose she yipped. Hoping to put the encounter behind her she decided on trying the food bins at the human skulk, they always had food. She was safe.

The Security;

Josh had never wanted the job. This was just a step. Working with a bunch of self-entitled fools trying to control a bunch of teenagers having fun at a party was no fun. School Sheriff- School Deputy- School Officer- Po-Po. That was all these brats knew him as. Mr. Kirkman was what the staff called him. No longer Josh. Just a title. He sighed leaning on a tree. He closed his eyes listening to a Nightingale sing in the night, once upon a time Josh had been a boy scout. That was long ago- a forgotten memory. But what even was this party? A bunch of rowdy high Schooler’s in the forest with an officer watching for ‘illegal substances’, and two school admins that knew they had absolutely no control over these kids. Hearing footsteps in the trees he stood at attention, keeping his hands at his sides. Dark woods made him nervous. A fox came scampering out of the trees. He scoffed as it practically trampled him in its rush. The footsteps kept coming though. Peering onto the path he was posted to, he saw man walking down it. As the guy walked up, he smiled all nice guy style and held out a hand to shake. Josh grinned taking the dude's hand. “Late night, eh?” The mystery man said with an understanding grin. Josh ducked his head with a laugh. “You have no idea,” The man grinned at this, shaking his head chuckling. “You seem tired Josh. Let me help you.” he said softly. Josh frowned, “How do you kno- “. He was dead before he finished the sentence. The man shoved his silenced pistol back into his pocket. Josh Kirkman was most certainly not safe.

The Girl;

She was alive once. Then he came. Now she was dead. How she regretted her life. She could have been so much more.

The Earth;

As the blood seeped into her dirt she groaned. Too much bloodshed had happened of recent. Wars and assassins, feuds and fools. Too much. Now she drank in young blood. Cries of help echoed through her trees, her creatures cowered in their homes, the young fox lay dead by a trashcan, her lively red fur laying limp and matted on the dirt, staining it red. Human children lay by her. Their red swirls mixing with the creature’s. A girls hair tangling in the fox's limbs creating a grotesque art piece of human fragility and a fox's hunger, merged in death. Only one man still lived that night. Such a mysterious man. Earth did not know why he killed. Humans did so without reason sometimes. Earth was angered. So much bloodshed, that of those not even at a ripe old age.

This man was not safe.