Darkness surrounded the frozen tundra of ice that was known as Antarctica, with only the dimmest light flickering through the deathly wasteland. Giant grey clouds surrounded the sky, disguising whether it was night or day in its swirling chaos. Harsh winds attacked the area with white chips of ice that were forcefully thrown about. The winds scraped at the landscape, leaving ice that could scratch someone raw by a simple touch. The area appeared lifeless, except for the four penguins ascending the icy mountains where, hopefully, the wind and the ice would lighten up enough so they could rest.
Huge sudden bursts of ice cold wind threatened their footing as they tried to reach the top of the large snowy bank. One that was particularly forceful forced them to stop. They held their ground and stood there for a couple of seconds, panting as the wind whipped out its assault. Reluctantly, they continued to move on when it let up.
"Why the heck are we doing this again?" the tallest of the four hollered over the wind with a cloud of its breath visible as it spoke. It stopped walking for a second, trying to get its breath back from the constant effort it was exhorting on its body. It instantly regretted it when it tumbled backwards from the force of the wind, nearly colliding against the death ice. However, a silver feathered penguin caught it just in time.
"Because if you don't want to be frozen to death, you're gunna want to get up there where it's safer! Now stop whining and start walking!" the silver bird yelled as it jumped back to save the taller, brown feathered penguin before it even made contact with the ice, face first. The brown penguin didn't hesitate, and they hastily joined back with the others.
They pressed their bodies together, not only for warmth, but to protect each other from the death, ice cold wasteland. They've been looking for refuge from the storm for a while and this was their last chance, or they would die from exhaustion and hunger. How long have they been out there? The silver penguin didn't care and neither did the others because it simply didn't matter anymore. They just wanted to get out of the storm and survive before exhaustion took its toll.
"I think we're almost there!" the smallest of the penguins' cried out, trying to blink its eyes to get rid of the frost. All the flightless bird got as a response was a grunt in acknowledgment from a penguin behind that had a messy lot of feathers on its head.
They sped up their pace as much as they possibly could, determined to reach the top. The smallest penguin tripped and threatened to tumble downwards, only to be caught by the silent flightless bird and pushed back up to its feet. The little avian would've fallen all the way back down and would have plowed against the deadly ice, a death sentence.
"Thanks!" it gasped.
Once more, it only got a grunt in return from the silent penguin.
With the last of their strength, they pulled to the very top where the wind stopped abruptly, making them face plant onto the frosty snow. They were used to fighting the wind, so they were thankful to be able to rest, even for just a second.
"That…was…horrible…" the shortest penguin panted in-between breaths. "I-I'm….s-so…tired…"
"Antarctica…it does that to you," the brown penguin mumbled, lifting its head up only to have it crash back down again. The penguins' moaned in exhaustion, ignoring the biting cold.
The silver flightless avian slowly lifted its head from the snow and saw a large building in front of them. It couldn't hold in its gasp of horror. Buildings meant people and people meant guns.
Guns only meant death.
It scrambled up and turned to its fellow companions anxiously. "Get up! Those monsters will find us then shoot us with guns and mount us on their walls!"
They were all dazed, making them proccess everything slowly. "What?" the penguins' chorused, except for the silent bird.
"C'mon get up! They're going to find us!"
It was too late though.
The energy depleted penguins' looked up to see humans with dart guns. These people were covered in thick clothing, hoods covering up their heads, and were wearing thick goggles over their eyes. They seemed to be discussing something before they lifted their dart guns up, aiming for the penguins.
"Oh my…" The shortest flightless bird shivered as it caught sight of one of the humans aiming for the only standing bird. The shortest penguin scrambled off the ground, leaving the two others lying there. It knocked the silver penguin away, only to be rewarded with a dart on the back of its neck. A sharp squawk escaped its beak at the impact.
"No! This can't happen!" the avian shouted to the heavens and dramatically fell to its knees.
Slowly the small avian fell to the ground and everything started to get fuzzy but not before it saw the rest of its comrades being shot with darts also. It felt itself slipping into un-conciseness and being picked up by something soft. It only brought its own exhaustion back up from the trek and, with that, it gave up and everything went black.