Badger didn't know just what to make of it.
It wasn't the wind, although that was odd enough in itself, the way it picked up out of nothing and blew into nothing, bending the long field grasses down upon their heads. No, the wind was not what stopped him in his tracks; what drew him erect to freeze like a prey animal caught by the headlights of an approaching vehicle. It was the sound. The groaning wail that echoed amongst the farmhouses, sounding as if it came from every direction at once. It was like nothing he had ever heard before…and yet…and yet he could not help but feel that it was somehow so familiar to him. As familiar as the echo of his own heartbeat, or perhaps that double beat one only retains the vaguest infantile impressions of from one's time in the womb. Certainly, it put him in mind of such things; of birth and life…and of death too. Of the endless circle of existence; one generation tumbling heedlessly into the next. Of the world's tireless ellipses about its life-giving star. Of the passage of time, of which he, even with his greatly extended existence, would experience so little…but which someone, somewhere, he felt certain, would see all of. Would see, and know and remember.
He shook his head in confusion. When had he felt like this before? He couldn't remember. The memory was insubstantial, like a summer breeze slipping ghost-like through his outstretched claws. And what was that light anyway? If it was those shoe children again acting up after their bedtimes he was going to have to have a word with their mother.
He turned toward the source of the light, and immediately had to duck his head to shade his oversensitive night-vision with the curve of the visor he kept cocked perpetually over his brow. Whatever it was, it was blue. Not a car then. A flare? No, not bright enough. He peered somewhat painfully past the cerulean glow now suffusing every surface to the rectangular shape that could barely be made out behind it. After a moment or two of intense study, he could make out a door. He blinked again, hard. His black diamond eyes glittered azure beneath a hastily raised shading paw.
The door burst open and Rose Red barreled out onto the dirt driveway of the Farm. She came up short of her own accord, head thrown back in surprise as she took in her surroundings. A gasp of awe escaped her throat as her head tilted towards the heavens. In the strange light from the blue door, her hair had turned a garish shade of violet and it curled about her chin as she stood with her mouth open, utterly transfixed by the starscape above her. Behind her, the strange light began to die, the odd screeching sound disappearing with it. As both winked out of existence, Badger ambled over to where Rose stood and silently observed her…observing.
"Miss Rose," grunted Badger, "Did you forget something?"
Rose Red blinked, and slowly lowered her head from its lofty position to consider the significantly more lowly individual stationed at knee height. "Stinky?" Rose replied, sounding surprised, "No, I need…wait…why would you ask that?"
"Because you just left for Fabletown in the truck a few minutes ago."
Rose blinked in surprise. "But…but that was over a day ago," she stammered.
"No," said a strange man in a dark blue suit ranging up beside her, "That's now. Or a few minutes ago, to be precise." Badger split his appraisal equally between Rose Red's obvious fluster and the unknown human's smug superiority, as a third person approached the group. The third individual was a woman not unlike Rose herself. Certainly, they shared the same fur color, though through years of association with humanity he had come to an understanding that such things were not as indicative of relation as they would be in his world. She did not seem threatening. The man, on the other hand…. Badger wrinkled his nose, scenting carefully, and reassessed his original impressions. Not human, he thought, not exactly.
"So this is where you work?" the crimson haired woman asked. Rose turned to her and nodded.
"Yeah," Rose replied, with a wave of an upturned palm. "Welcome to the Farm. We don't ask you to wipe your feet here. In fact, I rather suggest against it. You never know where one of the residents might decide to leave a present."
Badger lifted a paw, flicked up the visor slung low over his face, and tilted his head so as to take in the full height of the odd man. Blinking tiny black beetle eyes, he examined the two newcomers. "Who're they?" he asked, directing his attention back to Rose Red.
"They're friends," she murmured, still gathering her wits. Shaking her head as if to clear it, she continued. "Stinky, I need you to gather all the Farm Fables together- and that means everyone, the revolutionaries included. I've got something important to tell them."
Badger cocked his head in curiosity, as the third person made a little squeak of glee. He arched one heavy eyebrow at her and saw that she had clasped her hands together in excitement and didn't seem to be able to take her eyes off of him. He was not a field mouse to go trembling every time something larger than himself took a more than passing interest, but still, her actions were unnerving. Who was she? She acted as though she'd never seen a Farm Fable before. Perhaps she hadn't, he amended to himself. Most Fabletown residents had never taken the time to visit the Farm. It was one of the many complaints of his fellows. He decided to let it go. "Bagheera too?" he asked instead, "His cage doesn't have wheels or anything."
"No, no…we'll have to tell him separately, but another thing, we need Weyland to start sorting through all those weapons he made before. During the revolution."
Rose Red could hardly have said anything that surprised Badger more, not if she had indicated that this man was himself the Adversary and the woman actually her long lost cousin escaped from the Homelands at last.
"You…" he stuttered, "You need Weyland's animal weaponry? Whatever for?!"
Rose Red sounded frustrated when she answered. "Stinky I'd rather not have to tell this story ten different times when I can save time telling everyone at once. Now will you please just go gather everyone together?"
He stared a long moment at her, flicking quick sidelong glances over her unnamed companions, before turning around with a grumble and heading off to rally the farm. It was not an easy task, by any means. Not all of the Fables were naturally nocturnal, and many had spent the better portion of the day chasing that silly, chicken-legged hut of Baba Yaga's all over hell's half-acre. Goodness knew why it chose this of all days to awaken and go on a blind rampage. It was now chained down in the barn with some of smith Weyland's most potent magical bonds. Badger wondered if he was expected to summon that thing to Rose Red's pow-wow as well.
Once everyone that could be gathered was, Rose clambered atop of the Farm's largest tractor, the one Weyland used to clear the big field. The strange man and his fire haired friend were arranged stoically at her feet. "Listen up everyone," Rose Red announced, "There's trouble in Fabletown. Big trouble. And we need your help."
The silence that met this declaration was deafening.
Before it could become too uncomfortable, an angry voice called out from the back of the crowd of animals and other non-humanoid Fables. "And why should that be of any of our concern? When has Fabletown ever raise a finger at our behest?"
There were mutinous murmurs of asset from the gathered crowd. Rose Red opened her mouth to quell them, but was beaten to the punch.
"For shame," King Noble intoned in his deep, commanding voice. "Mutinous reprobates. Did the outcome of the ill-fated rebellion teach you nothing!" He shook his heavy mane in derision, "We must stand together with our neighbors to the south, or fall separately. You yourself, monkey-king, like many others here tonight, owe your life to the mercy of the human Fables in the city who spared your worthless hide after your myriad acts of disobedience. For shame!"
More than just the shaggy haired orangutan hung their heads at this tirade. The lion sniffed heavily and turned his soft, yellow eyes upon Rose Red. "My people are with you, Miss Rose. Thou knowest we have always been faithful to the cause."
Rose gave a crooked half-smile. "Thanks King," she said, "But I was sort of counting on your lot. No, it's the 'mutinous reprobates' I'm trying to appeal to." She allowed her gaze to sweep across the congregation as a whole. "Fabletown is under attack from minions of the Adversary." She waited a moment for that fact to sink in, and for the responsive rumblings of the crowd to die down. Badger felt his own pulse speed up at the thought. The Adversary. The Adversary. That would change most Fables' minds, even the Farm discontents. They may reject the seemingly foreign rule of their human counterparts. They may resent the way their concerns had been repeatedly ignored by the city Fables. They may hate this life of confinement within the borders of the Farm. But none of them would miss the chance to press their jaws to the gullet of the Adversary. Badger felt his blood boil at the very mention of their ancient enemy's name.
Rose raised a hand to calm the mass to silence. "He sent wooden soldiers," she went on, "Bloodless killers, no doubt armed with mundy weaponry, to threaten our adopted homeland." The air filled with grumbles and growls, with squawks and screeches, with crows and lows. Fury writhed in a swift undercurrent to the normally idyllic, pastoral lifestyle of the Farm inhabitants. This was where the wild things were. They would fight, oh yes. They might have their differences, but in this one thing they were in complete accord with the city folk. No one would call the Farm Fables cowards. No sir.
"Mayor Cole," Rose raised her voice to be heard over the growing tumult, "Begs all loyal Fables living at the Farm to come now to the aid of their city cousins." Badger could tell she was reciting bits from a prepared speech. Flowery language was never Rose's way. But it was the way of a war leader, and that's what she was portraying right then. "He has further authorized me to make this offer to all Fables who stood against the established government in the late Farm uprising. The sentences of hard labor you are serving for your crimes will be lifted should you choose to fight in the upcoming battle to protect Fabletown."
There was even more noise following this announcement. "If we survive, you mean," cried the Mother Bear, her paws tightly grasped in her husband's comforting grip. "Better a century of punishment then being dead on some city street." The crowd began to get rowdy. They pushed in against the tractor, forcing the two strangers back up against it. The red haired woman scuttled up behind Rose Red on top of the machine, while the odd man in the suit stood with his feet on the bottom rung of the ladder. He was watching the proceedings with great interest.
"Better an honorable death than a life spent in debased ignominy," rumbled Baloo, in his wise way.
"Yeah!" agreed a vicious little flower, hopping up on one of the tall tractor wheels with a Swiss Army Knife in his grip.
The red haired woman was looking about herself in wide-eyed amazement. Aghast, she leaned forward and whispered in Rose's ear, "Is that a…a sunflower?! With arms and…and feet?!" Badger spared a glance for her and saw her lips drawn back from her teeth in displeasure. "He seems…kinda angry."
"He's always like that," Rose explained blithely, with a dismissive wave of her hand, the turned her full attention back on the conglomeration of Farm Fables. "All who want to join the Fabletown forces, give your name to Mustard Pot Pete and he'll keep a list. Those who don't," her eyes grow dark, "You're on packing duty. Help Weyland load as much of the animal weapons and artillery as you can fit onto every truck the Farm has. We'll need everything we can get."
After she finishes there was a pause, as if no one was really sure where they were going, or what they were supposed to do on arrival. "Well," she encouraged, waving her arms exasperatedly, "Move!"
The Fables moved as one, crashing into each other in their hurry. Badger moved towards Rose Red and pulled himself up on the tractor. As her second in command, it was understood that he'll be following her wherever she choose to go. He got an unasked-for helping hand from the suited man, and a boost up to where his leader was standing, observing the calm chaos. Badger tried not to shudder too much at his touch.
"Stinky," Rose Red said, finally noticing him, "I just had a horrible thought. If we load all the weapons on the farm trucks, how will we get everyone in them to transfer everyone down to the city? We just don't have that kind of space." She turned eyes full of concern and ringed in dark circles toward him, as if hoping against hope that he might have the answer. "How are we ever going to transfer a makeshift army of animals and the like along with all their guns to New York City before tomorrow evening?!" He voice raised in desperation.
"That shouldn't be a problem," the new woman said with a smile.
"How do you figure?" Rose asked.
"Well, the TARDIS," her friend cocked her head over her shoulder at the blue box which had so suddenly and mysteriously appeared out of nowhere, "You may have noticed, is bigger on the inside."
"What?!" the man shouted, abashed, whipping around from his place on the narrow foothold.
"All your big guns – and by that I mean your Fable friends, cause I don't think we'll be takin' any real guns thank-you-very-much – can fit inside with room to spare."
"What?!?!" shrieked the man in a nearly girlish manner
"Oh, hush you," the woman placated, patting him on the arm. "It's all for a good cause, right?"
"But…but…" The man appeared at a loss for words for what very well may have been the first time in his long life. "They're big," he complained, sounding like a petulant child. "They could hurt the…the floor…and the controls. Some pretty delicate controls in there, you know."
"Oh right," his companion rolled her eyes dramatically. "As if I haven't seen you take a mallet to those precious controls a thousand times before. Look, we said we would help, they need some quick transport, and we can provide. It's as easy as that."
"Easy," said the man, looking a tad green. "Right."
What followed next was a study in organized confusion. It had been centuries since the Fables had practiced mobilization tactics. But still, the Farm Fables were probably better off than their counterparts, having gone to war (of a sorts) only a few years prior. It was quickly decided that the Farm's trucks would be, for the most part, utilized to transport guns and ammunition. The majority of the Fable-folk, especially the very large and conspicuous ones, would go in the disturbing, squealing, blue box.
Badger stood by Rose Red's side throughout, watching the preparations. There was something he wanted to tell her, something he needed to tell her, but he wasn't sure how to go about it. He climbed onto the top rail of a wooden fence that Rose was leaning against, and found himself a spot comfortably near Rose's ear. "Miss Rose," he said, lifting himself a little taller with his paw upon a steadying fence post, and addressing her in a calculated half-whisper. "Are you sure about this?"
She looked at him quizzically, "Of course, Stinky. Why?"
Badger gave a quick glance over his shoulder to where the suit-man was holding the door of his blue box open with one hand and watching with some trepidation as a parade of ungulates passed through. "That man," he started, turning to face Rose, "Doesn't smell right."
Rose lifted her hand absently and rubbed it behind her ear. "Bigby signed off on him," she said, "He's not on the side of the Adversary."
"It's not that," Badger hissed. He didn't know how to explain this to her, a human, who could never truly be expected to understand the wondrous world of scent. He wasn't certain he could find the words. Erudition had never been his strong point. "He doesn't smell evil…just…strange."
A flash of red and a rush of air at his side alerted him that Reynard had joined the discussion with a dexterous leap onto the adjoining fence rail. "Lightning," explained the fox, his ears perked with interest and his fluffy tail curling about his black legs. "He smells like lightning." Badger nodded his agreement and Reynard glanced at the blue box over his shoulder. "Or more accurately, he smells like the calm before the storm. The rush of heavy dark clouds over open countryside, dragging torrents in their wake. Over-warm wind sliding through field grasses." Reynard's eyes narrowed as he looked back at their human companion. "Green sky that tastes of hail and cyclones."
Rose Red seemed to consider that for a moment. Placing hands upon her hips, she said, "Well, that decides it. Reynard, you're going with the Fables traveling in the box thing." Reynard's eyes widened, showing the tiniest glimpse of white. "The animals trust you, especially the ones you helped escape from the Homelands. They'll need someone they know they can look up too, someone who can speak for them and speak well." She looked up to where a rhinoceros was now attempting to squeeze through the relatively tiny doorway of the box, scooted helpfully from behind by a pair of winged macaques who had locked hands above his hocks. The man in the suit stood by helplessly, looking appalled.
A soft night wind stirred her bangs, blowing them into her face. She raised a hand to clear her hair out of her eyes. Red strands slid between white fingers. "You can trust Donna," she commented dreamily, "She's a good sort. I'll tell you, it's not the scariest thing I've ever done, riding in that box…TARDIS…whatever they called it." She returned her gaze to her two attentive listeners, "But it's up there."
Badger blinked up at her in confusion. "It's a box," he said, pointing out the obvious, "I don't see how you're supposed to ride in it anywhere."
"Don't be a fool," countered Reynard with a self-important sniff, "I'll assume you didn't take the time to scent around its base. It smells like the lightning man. It's magic for certain. It probably flies or something else amazing."
He stared crossly at the fox before returning his attentions to Rose Red. "Are they from the thirteenth floor then? Magic users?"
She shook her head, closing her eyes as if in pain. "No, they're…" Rose sighed heavily, "Look, it's a long story. And we've got a long drive ahead of us tonight. I'll tell you then, okay?" Her eyes opened and looked hopefully into his own.
"Of course, boss," he grunted in reply. Then, throwing a meaningful look at Reynard, cocked his long head over his shoulder at the blue box behind them. The fox nodded, made a courtly bow towards Rose which earned him a smirk and an eye roll, and leapt from the fence to the well tilled field beneath. Badger watched as the lithe red form seemed to slither over the ground towards the light pouring out from the open door. For a moment, his body appeared in profile before it. A black shadow with pointed nose and perked ears frozen against the bright yellow background of the door frame. Then, quick as thought, he slipped inside to…to…goodness knew what.
"Miss Rose," Badger found himself whispering, "Whatever is in there?"
"I think the better question would be, what's not in there," she groused.
He turned to face her in confusion. "Miss Rose?" he asked, a hint of worry in his voice. She was not looking at him, but rather was staring over his head at the box and the two odd persons flanking its entranceway.
"Forget it, Stinky," she said, lowering her eyes. Her lips were pulled inwards in a strange sort of smile that showed very little of her rosy hued lips. It stretched out her cheeks and made her appear more serious. Older. Less carefree. "There's just some mysteries in this world even we're not meant to know."
As quickly as it came, the worry slipped from her face like water swirling down a bath drain. She tipped her head thoughtfully to one side and asked, "Does Mary know how to drive stick?"
"I think so," he said, his nose wrinkling. "But there's no way I'm riding with that wool-for-brains lamb of hers."