The weary branches of the old forest creaked as they swayed precariously against the howling wind, leaves rattling without rythm to nature's quiet, out-of-tune orchestra of songbirds and babbling brook. Though the strange, tall white rooster speckled with black seemed to be seemingly enjoying the solace of it all, Swiftstrike, a rooster that the kind-hearted Peppercrest had rescued the other day from near death, stared blankly at the bleak visage of the cold Winter day, laying limply on his side and just hoping he would recover soon.
A coldfront swept through the land, small white snowflakes drifting weightlessly in the chilled gust. Soon, a thin blanket of flossy, fresh snow dusted the leafy landscape as the snow came down heavier. It eminated a surreal, blue-hued glow from the full moon that hung low in the dense, gray clouds.
"We need to get to shelter," the rooster murmured, more to himself than to anyone in particular, looking down at the limp rooster with genuine concern in his dark maroon eyes. With a subtle shake of his head in pity, he slung the rooster's wing over his back and plodded onward through the undergrowth, aiding the Modern game rooster in walking as he desperately sought for somewhere safe from the harsh weather.
Peppercrest furrowed thoughtfully at the vague sound of conversing birds and attempted to follow it, Swiftstrike oblivious from his surroundings by the unbearable pain in his leg that he feebly attempted to ignore.
ud
