The gray brown mule stood sadly in the door of his stable; ears laid back, tail twitching in agitation. Smoggy gray smoke pressed down from the sky, filling the air. There was clean air in his stables- he wasn't returning.
He could see the little fuzzy brown things, called Barb-ba-loots by The Lorax huddled together miserably, could hear their stomachs rumble in hunger. He could see the bright birds that once wheeled and darted through the skies so freely, miserably shake themselves and hear the harsh rasping of coughs instead of melodious voices. Melvin could see the tiny Humming Fish, normally singing away bright and colorful, now sagging and drooping, struggling to breathe at all.
It was my human that did this. The shamed thought weighed heavily in his head. My human. I was the one who brought the wagon here.
The Lorax coughed, and Melvin took a cautious step forward.
His human wasn't the only one that had been hiding.
The Lorax turned (and he would never call him anything but The Lorax, because unlike humans he could sense the ancient power the creature had and in his own way respected it) his forest green eyes exhausted and disheartened.
Melvins head drooped miserably as he trotted up to The Lorax. He knew The Lorax had tried; he had seen the guardian of the forest protest, and plead and beg- he had seen Once-ler also drag The Lorax into business, using him to sell Thneeds.
That's why he approached cautiously; eyes on the orange, miserable blob that sadly watched him approach.
"It's nearly done." The Lorax didn't speak in human tongue; but instead a tongue that all animals could understand. His eyes went slid towards where the last few trees stood against the smog. "Those are the last of the Truffula trees."
The smallest Bar-ba-loot began to cry. "Why? Why? What did we do wrong?"
The Lorax gathered up the Bar-ba-loot, pulling him close. Even with the smog and the smoke, he smelled of fresh grass and clean air, warm and fuzzy. "Nothing. You did nothing wrong. These things just happen. It's nobody's fault- not even the kids."
Melvin's head rose a little at The Lorax's words. "Not his fault?"
Even the forest animals looked a little aghast at the words, even if they didn't argue. Melvin was willing too however, cut deeply by his humans destruction. "Isn't he the one in charge of the humans? The human alpha? He should-"
"I know. I know. If I could just talk to him, I think I could open his eyes, but he's guarded far too closely for that."
Melvin glanced over his shoulder. There was a way to Once-ler's office. A special way just for him.
The Lorax set down the Bar-ba-loot gently. "Listen up everyone, you can't stay."
Swoome-swans hung their heads. Humming Fish miserably stared at him with dead eyes. "If you stay, you all will die. So it's time for you all too go. Thank you for staying with me though. Thank you for trying."
The animals looked at him dumbly, before looking back to each other. "Where will we go?" The dry, wheezing rasp of the Swoome-swan hurt to hear.
"Somewhere… Somewhere else. Where the skies are cleaner, and there's fruit to eat. Where the water runs clear. Further South I think."
A few of the Bar-ba-loots leaned against each other, exhaustion already clear in their eyes. Melvin knew in that instant that many of these animals standing around him were going to die.
There was no better way to put it. They were going to die on this march to find better food and water; and it would all be his humans' fault. His fault as well, for not trying harder.
The mule took a half step forward. "There's a way up. I can show you a way up."
The Lorax turned, and the animals looked at each other, the tiniest glimmer of hope in their eyes. "Thank you. But it's too late. Even if he were to stop now… it won't change anything. Everyone needs to leave- there is no place left for them here."
Animals looked at each other sadly, exhaustion already in their eyes.
Melvin looked from animals to The Lorax. "Go, gather the others- it's time to leave Truffula Valley."
The animals scattered at his bidding, and The Lorax swayed slightly on his feet. Melvin took a single step forward, head butting against a fuzzy orange shoulder. "Now then, shall we go visit the beansprout?"
"Didn't you say it was already too late?" Melvin questioned slightly sarcastically- mostly in forlorn hope for his human.
"We might be able to save the last tree. If he's not too far gone." The Lorax was gathering himself, bringing the last scraps of his energy to the forefront for one last showdown. "If not… Well, nothing lasts forever I suppose."
The mule glanced over his shoulder at what used to be the wonders and delights of the valley. "Maybe not, but it should have lasted a little longer."
"Don't blame yourself. Like I said before it's not anyone's fault."
"But my human-" The term slipped out before he could stop it, but Melvin wasn't about to back down from this, "He should have known better."
He didn't exactly understand everything humans could say, but certain scents, certain emotions were so palpable, he just had to roll his eyes at them. He was a grumpy mule at the best of times, often exasperated at his humans wailing and songs, but he remembered well the scent of wonder his human had that first time they entered Truffula Valley.
His thoughts were interrupted when a fuzzy orange hand patted his nose. He breathed deeply, the scent of Truffula fruit mingled with moss and water and fish and birds and bears reaching him. It gave him strength in some quiet way.
"What are you going to do now Melvin? Stay here? Or go?"
"It depends I suppose, on what my human does." Melvin paused at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the balcony. "I hope he does what's right."
The Lorax nodded, but there was no hope in those forest green eyes. A Humming Fish stumbled by, drooping and exhausted, attempting to carry its companion. The Lorax crouched next to them, the barest tips of his fuzzy hands brushing across smooth scales.
The Humming Fish, revitalized, climbed back to its fins. It wasn't completely fine- it wouldn't be that until it had found a fresh, clean stream to swim in. Even then… it wouldn't be the same.
The mule trotted towards where the forest creatures slowly, silently gathered in the darkness cast by Once-ler's office. They leaned on each other, sick, hungry eyes watching the last tree.
Only one tree left. It came down to this.
Melvin's head rose in the direction of the office, where The Lorax sat on the railing, staring out across the wasteland, in the direction of the last tree. He could see his human there, approaching the Lorax. Even from so far away, he could smell the whiff of anger, could see it along every line of the humans body.
He looked back down, to where the starving creatures waited. They were gathering- and there were a lot of them. Had none left despite the thuds and the crashes as trees toppled? Didn't the smoggy smoke and schlopty schlop chase them away?
Not yet. Of course not yet. Tired eyes rose to his human, yelling at The Lorax.
Bar-ba-loots looked to each other quietly, before looking South. Swoome-swans began leading the way, for they knew it best- straight south as the bird could fly to a jungle called Nool.
The last tree fell.
"That should stop you." Lorax was speaking the human tongue, but beneath it, rumbled just enough magic for all to hear. "That's the last tree."
Shock. Realization. Horror. Denial.
That scent was the final straw.
Once-ler was no longer Melvin's human.
The first creature to fall and be unable to get up was a Humming Fish. Even though several Bar-ba-loots were carried by their companions, too sick to even stand, they had been carried since the beginning. None of the forest creatures noticed the single Humming Fish; too intent on placing one foot in front of the other, of getting out of the smog and smoke to somewhere with food.
The mule stopped behind the Humming Fish, and gently as he possibly could, picked him up with his teeth to lay him on his own back.
The Humming Fish clung weakly to thin fur, breath rattling harshly in its gills. Melvin continued onwards.
He had kicked the human, the first time any burden had been placed on his back. He had refused to move, before grudgingly doing so as pleas reached his ears. He had been grumpy before; now was not the time.
A Swoome-swan collapsed. Melvin dragged the bird up onto his back, and continued on, watching for any more animals that fell.
But they seemed to realize that all of them were collapsing. Two Swoome-swans leaned against each other for support. A Bar-ba-loot carried a Humming Fish. Five Humming Fish carried a Bar-ba-loot.
They were pulling together.
Melvin carried as many as he could, and mourned for those he couldn't as their forms faded behind him.
Eventually they had to get out of the smog and destruction. A Humming fish managed to locate a tiny spring not too badly polluted. Each animal drank a handful of water, all except Melvin, and then the Humming Fish slipped in to attempt to scrub off the goo and gunk clinging to their gills.
It helped a little, but not a lot, and the fish climbed out feeling better. Only then did Melvin drink of the brackish, disgusting water.
Swoome-swans flew on ahead, scouting out the way. The word was passed back that a blackberry bush was found.
It had more thorns then berries, but Melvin waded in, ignoring the minor scratches to tug down at the bushes thorns down to bar-ba-loot level. He grazed on the tough Grickal grass that grew by the side.
It tasted disgusting, a far cry from the hay and oats he could be eating… he didn't complain.
Then, with everyone clinging to the barest scraps of life, they continued marching south.
The Humming Fish were first to depart from the group. A large, clear river ran directly in the middle of their pathway- the Humming Fish slipped into the water and were away in minutes. Bar-ba-loots and Swomme-swans wished them luck.
The fish stuck around only long enough to ferry everyone across safely, before attempting to say goodbye. The gunk on their gills made it hard, and before long they had left in search of a way to clean themselves off.
Melvin watched them go, starting in surprise as the fish he had carried kissed him on the nose in thanks.
The Bar-ba-loots were next. The Jungle of Nool, while uncomfortably warm for them, was also well isolated and the animals were nice enough to open their homes. Horton the Elephant had good stories to tell, and his son who could fly like a bird chirruped reassurances that it was easy to hide from humans.
Some continued on further south.
Most stayed, too sick and tired and heart weary to continue on.
The Swoome-swans parted last. Some wished to head for the cliffs where no human could climb, some stayed in the Jungle of Nool with the Bar-ba-loots, and still others flew aimlessly on; searching for someplace they could call home.
And Melvin at last was left all alone.
There was no one left to help, no one left to save. There was no reason to stick around. Then, and only then did he turn himself around and head north.
Back to the Human he once called his proudly. Back to the destruction and wasteland. He had helped create that damage, had led his human there. The least he could do was go back there in the end.
Through desolate wastelands and foul air he trudged. Past grickal grass and thorny bushes, the only sounds the old caws of ravens.
His fur, shaggy and uncombed tangled and caught burs. His hooves cracked on the stones with no willing hand to dig them out, the stones stayed, uncomfortable and a sharp reminder.
He didn't stop, continuing on. Further up, further in.
Towards a human dwelling.
It didn't storm correctly anymore- it was rains of choking dust and screaming wind rather then cleansing rain and billowy breezes.
The mules head dropped and he placed one hoof in front of the other. He would reach the dwelling. He would.
A ring of stones surrounded a tree trunk. Memories of the smell of thunder, the happiness of his human, the sheer peacefulness of the situation returned. For a long moment he stood there. Finally he looked up.
There, on the top of the hill sat the human.
He was still dressed in green. His top hat was missing, and a Thneed was dangling from loose fingertips. The human stared down at the stone circle The Lorax created, the single word carved on it, repeating it over and over again.
Even from this far away the scent of regret was strong and clear.
His human was back.
Melvin tipped his head back, muzzle pointing to the sky and brayed loudly in that smoggy smoke air. His Human turned, and Melvin began to trot up the hill. He only managed to get half-way when arms around him brought him to a dead halt.
He rolled his eyes at the kids sobbing, but buried his head against the kids back anyways, his own oblique hug as ears flickered back contentedly.
I love you too kiddo. I love you too.
a/n: The animals, or more precisely, Melvin's part of the story. I adore you, you grumpy old mule! Don't forget to drop a review and say how you likie please!