First, came the calm. Trees stood tall and proud, their leafy branches dancing in the soft breeze. Soil gathered between the roots of every plant to keep each safe and well fed. Insects crawled among the soil and grass, searching for their next meal. Vibrant flowers waited patiently as butterflies and bumble bees pollinated them and took a prize for themselves. A spider lied in wait inside one of the blossoms, snatching up its prey when it came and eating contentedly.  The bright green grass waved greetings to the autumn leaves that fell. Birds called out their surprise, and in the branches, squirrels leaped and peered past the painted leaves at the fresh tracks in the dirt.

A rabbit hopped along, steadily following a few others, and stopped to examine the prints. A hush fell over the birds and the squirrels watched intently, for they knew they were safe. The butterflies that rested on a nearby bush waited, as they knew of the coming event and of everything that came to be in the forest. The rabbit strayed from its friends and followed the curious tracks. Pebbles shifted under its feet and the insects moved out of the way, knowing what was to be, for the butterflies had told them. Eyes watched quietly from the distance, throats silenced in respect for the occasion. It was almost as if the grass decided to become softer and more welcoming to the rabbit.

The rabbit, unsuspecting of the surrounding quiet, followed the tracks further. A leaf fell, as if on cue, and the rabbit turned its head to admire the flittering ruby leaf, like blood against the bright blue sky. The butterflies flexed their wings and floated off of their bush, signaling to the fox that hid beneath that it was time. The fox leapt from his cover, retracing his own tracks silently as he neared the rabbit. Velvety ears quivered and the paw-steps caused alarm, but the rabbit was too late to run. Birds chirped once again, when the deed was done and the fox held his meal in his jaws, smiling at his own success as he gave thanks for the rabbit’s gift of food.

The fox began to eat, listening to the birdsong, and the butterflies drifted off to follow the next predator and continue the harmonious process of the forest. Their flight stopped abruptly and they landed on the closest plants, for a thud in the distance had made everyone curious. The squirrels, rabbits, and birds stopped their routines and looked towards the sound. The fox looked to the butterflies, for the death of a tree had not been foretold. A brave old monarch lifted off his tree branch to investigate, and others followed with inquisitiveness. Birds tilted their heads in confusion, and the fox stood to walk with the butterflies.

Another thud shook the forest, and the squirrels scampered away. The birds that had been living on the felled tree called their alarm to their brothers to escape, for Death was present. Some of the inhabitants of the forest heeded the warning, but not the fox or the old monarch. They went further towards their forest brother that had been deemed Death by the fearful, believing they could convince the forest brother to leave the peace alone. The old monarch hovered briefly, once he had come to see the Death and whispered a lament to his old friend, the fox. Two more thuds shook the soil, and the fox trembled with fear. The old monarch butterfly fluttered away, between the machines they called Death, and disappeared. Then, everything began to change.

The fox gaped at the machines that blackened the sky and tore the plants from their soil. He heard the silent scream of his friend, and he knew the old monarch had been destroyed, like his home. The soft cries of the insects rang in the fox’s ears and his eyes moved frantically across the near-barren ground while more trees were felled. A single blossom stretched towards him, wanting to be taken away from this terror, but was crushed beneath a machine. Not even the butterfly guardians of the forest could have foreseen this destruction or stop it.

The machines came towards the trees he hid between, and the fox sprang away, following his fleeing forest brothers. The eyes that had watched respectively now spun and jumped in the shadows, wild with fear. They followed the fox, knowing that maybe the old monarch had spoken to him. The fox bounded over his abandoned meal, yipping at whoever was left to run. The grass and tree branches seemed to pull at them, begging to be taken along, but nothing could help them, now, as they suffocated in the black wind.

The fox stopped at the once life-giving stream that ran throughout the forest, and yipped all his sorrow at the oily, brown water. He remembered the monarch’s whispers and hopped over the stream to continue through the forest. More and more felled trees shook the ground and forest brothers stumbled and were trapped between the machines and the dying forest. The fox tried his best to lead his brothers, as the monarch had asked, but the machines came from every direction. Out of them came the humans who seemed to damage everything they touched, and the forest now harbored hate against them.

Forest brother after forest brother perished, lost in the midst of the pollution or too exhausted to continue on. The fox kicked up the pebbles and the dried leaves, panting heavily to get the fresh air that was not present. A machine stopped him and he turned to see who was left, but there was no one but a squirrel, who looked at him, fraught with exhaustion, and climbed up onto his shoulders. The fox whispered what the old monarch had said to him and rushed through the decaying forest, until the squirrel had gone. Soon enough, he found his abandoned meal by the bush and he lied down and departed this life, also. He had done as he was told and hadn’t given up until all was lost.

The Death raged on, hitching a ride on the machines, the smoke, and the oil. The last tree fell and the machines headed off, done for the day, but they would return sometime to build. The wood they had torn from the soil and cut would create new homes. The leaves they cleared would return again when they replanted the trees. As for the animals that had lived in harmony, nothing might ever be the same, again, since their butterflies had gone.

And when the machines revisited to build, a patch of grass had grown. On that patch of grass, a few blossoms had formed, their roots twisted through the bones of the fox as they waited for the forest’s return.