A Call to Arms
A being stood at the edge of a burning forest, leaning heavily against an old sword. All she could smell was the cloying smoke. All that she heard was the crackling of the fire in the distance and the footsteps of the fleeing animals. Blood dripped from a wound in her side.
She watched the Human city in the valley below, searching for a signal.
She turned her head, surveying her brothers and sisters gathered behind her. Tired eyes met her gaze from between the trees. Some bared their sharp teeth and glared. In other faces she saw fear, some simply looked heartbroken at what was to come.
She turned back to the city on the horizon and listened to the whispers of the dying trees. They demanded justice. They begged Mother for an end to the burning. They prayed to Her for rain.
When the Humans had first come, Mother's other creatures had been uneasy. The Humans were unkind. They killed and hurt for no reason. They burned trees and destroyed homes to make room for themselves. Mother asked the rest of her outraged children to wait. To endure. The Humans were still young, barely toddlers. They would learn and all would coexist. For a while, it seemed Mother was right.
The Humans changed with the generations. They were kinder to their counterparts.
But then, just as it appeared things could be peaceful again, Humankind forgot about Mother. They forgot about the Fae. About everything besides themselves. They believed they ruled Mother's land.
Mother was angry now.
A bear limped past, interrupting her thoughts. Her heart ached for the great lumbering beast. Its fur was singed, its paws bleeding. It had lost its home, and its cubs in the flames.
She watched a thin pillar of smoke rise from the city. She looked behind her and smiled. It was time for them to take back what had been stolen by the Humans. It was time to rebuild. She walked out of the treeline, head held high and sword in hand. Her brethren followed.
Mother Earth was angry and she had declared war on her youngest sons and daughters.