Chickens of The Dawn

Hatred

    Darkness was everywhere.
In her eyes.
    In her heart.
In her soul.
    The bird stumbled blindly through it, trying to keep her head up as it's weight pushed down on her skull.  Eventually she fell, fell through the veil of darkness and down.
    Down, down, down.
It never ended.  The hatred swirled around her she tried to recoil back from it.      Lies and deception, greed and loathing.  When did it end?  
   Except it didn't.
You never got out of it.
   Hopelessness encased her and she tried feebly to reach to...where?  Where was she reaching?  There was no where to go, no where to reach and hold onto.  No hope, no light...
   Why not give up now?  She was never going to escape, so what was the point?
   Her conciseness began to fade, but suddenly she thought of single thought, one that could thrive in this hell hole. 
   Revenge.
   Her hens.  Hawthorn.  Her mother and father.  All dead! 
That was something to hold onto, a deep and powerful hate that could be fuelled by this never ending darkness.
   Make use of your damnation or perish in hell.

    Jenny blinked sleepily and immediately tried to stand up. She was met by a burning pain in her stomach and she clucked in anguish, feeling soft feathers gently push her back down.  She opened her sore eyes to see Silvia, her black plumage covered in dried blood.  Jenny carefully shifted and tried to look around.  They were still in the tree hollow, and the damp air filled her nostrils.
    "Slate? Where's Slate? Silvia? Are you alright?" Jenny twittered, feeling lightheaded.  Silvia stroked her head and picked up what looked like damp feathers bunched together.  In her dazed stated, Jenny noticed a couple of missing tail feathers on Silvia's rear end.  The hen pressed them against Jenny's burning comb, causing instant relief as the cool liquid leaked from the feathers onto her flesh.
    "Thank you," Jenny murmured, accepting that she wasn't about to get up.
There was a shuffling of feet at the entrance and Jen snapped her gazed towards it.
   It was Yoko, with part of her comb torn in half.
   Silvia abandoned Jenny's side and exchanged a few tense words with Yoko, both of them glancing back at the grey hen.
   For some reason, an odd frustration rose up in the hen's throat like acid and she rolled over and onto her feet, marching over to the pair, trying to ignore the burning pain in her abdomen.
   They stopped talking and nodded at her in some sort of respect.  "Jenny, you should remain sitting down until I can find something to bandage that up." Silvia smiled weakly, trying to reach over the other hen's shoulders to guide her away.
   Jenny nudged off her attempt and furrowed her brows.  "I need to speak to Slate."
   Yoko reluctantly flicked her tail outside and Jenny looked out to see her friend conversing with some of her remaining hens.
   Stumbling out over the tree roots, the Ameracauna made her way over to the group.
   In the ruckus, Slate, Ann, Sheryl and Bethany stared at her.
   "Thank goodness you're awake." Slate breathed, reaching out a foot and laying it atop of Jenny's.  Jerking her talons away, Jenny glared around.
   "I have to speak with you." She muttered to Slate.
Seeming mildly hurt, Slate nodded slightly and followed Jenny into the trees.    She could feel the stares of the other hens burning into her back and she nestled her head down into her neck feathers, taking shelter under the low branches of a pine tree.
   "Are you alright?" The dark grey hen asked.
"Fine." Jenny snapped, "I need to--"
   "Jenny, stop.  You're not acting at all like yourself.  You're so...so..."
"Dark?" Jenny finished bitterly. "Why shouldn't I be? Three of my friends just died and a crow was speaking of evil things that I've dreamt about.  Yes, I'm quite conflicted."
   "No, you're rude." Slate sighed.  "We are all just as distraught about this as you are.  Silvia and Lennox were best friends.  Fleece and Ann were sisters.  Allen practically raised me." 
   Her voice broke but Jenny almost snorted.  These hens were pathetic.  They had lost nothing compared to her. None of them knew.  She was alone.
The grey hen raised a wing in signal for Slate to stop and her friend scowled.
   "This is exactly what I mean.  Jenny, you have always been the nicest soul--"
"Chickens can change, and this has changed me."
"I know." Slate hissed.
   "Anyways, I was going to speak with you about--"
Slate turned away and flicked her tail.  "I don't want to hear it.  Talk to me when you're feeling better."
   Taken aback, Jenny scampered after her, painfully reopening her wound.
"Don't you understand?  I've lost my brother, my mother, my father, my friends.  I don't see why you want me to be happy all the time."
   Slate's rich, brown eyes narrowed and she stopped walking.  "I don't expect you to be happy, but at leased make an effort to be polite.  These hens," she gestured at the chickens sombrely pecking around. "They need you.  They look up to you.  That's because you took up the role as their leader!  You've done beautifully up until now, and you obviously have some things to figure out--"
   "But my brother, my--" Jenny tried to protest, following Slate as she turned away once more.
   "We all have our sorrows Jenny! Get over yours!" Slate yelled, storming away.
   Jenny stopped abruptly and felt the curious stares of the gathered hens glance up at the situation.  Why didn't anyone understand?
   She grumpily pivoted on her heel and marched back into the forest.