The next day was rough. Selections for the Clarinet army were quick and well-decided, Reid and Liggy being the first platoon leaders. Clare found herself in Bell's division playing first part. They all met in the clearing of Woodwind Woods, three groups of ten, each under a section leader. Reid led them all. The rest of the Clarinet population listened in fear and anticipation as Reid explained how the woods should be secured properly. Clare could only watch her mother dabbing at her eyes, her little sister Net still thinking this was a silly parade.
Cornett strolled through the diagonals of his triangle form, each trumpet straight and stiff. The two assistant section leaders, Val and Tru, stood at the last line of the wedge. As soon as Cornett returned to the point, the three of them joined together. "We'll have to take them all," Cornett said sadly.
"Even the younger ones?" Val replied, unsure. "They've barely learned how to march!"
"We need them all," Cornett repeated. "Any Trumpet that can march will. You know we're the first…" His voice trailed as Tru winced.
"Don't say it, please," the sophomore whispered. "I don't want to hear it."
"It's true," Cornett sadly continued, bowing his head. "We're the first to go."
"Not this time," Val sternly remarked, turning sharply to the rest and ordering them to lift their horns. With a few motions of her hand, a part of a trumpet code, the group began a concert scale. "Not this time," she said again to her confidents, who joined in on the warm-up next.
The ceramic jar shattered against the cool rock wall, young children crying out at the dark forms rising from the sparking fire. Jazz didn't mean to actually throw the dish; he merely let go. Prano sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Was that really necessary?"
"Why won't you listen to me!" Jazz shouted, threatening the wall with another empty glass. "We can't march the freshman now, we're all going to die!"
"Shut up," the mild-mannered Barianne moaned before taking one last drink out of her own cup. "I'm sick of hearing you say that."
"It's the true," Jazz growled. "No one wins in these wars, no one."
Sou, the revolutionary female Tuba leader and Eufo, the equally well-known comic Baritone leader, had arrived at the Trombone camp earlier that evening. Sou watched the freshman polish their slides with amazement; each Bone was a separate, working machine. Gliss sighed, shaking his head slightly. "I don't know how we're going to pull through this. I haven't thought about war since…well…"
"I know what you mean," Eufo added, for once being serious. "Only a few of the seniors remember what the last one was like."
"I'm glad we decided to work together," Sou said quietly. "It seems as if our sections are always hurt the worse."
"We're like walking targets out there."
"Marching targets," Eufo corrected, and they all shared a brief smile.
The screaming of the black stallion echoed through the farther mountain valleys, its thundering hoof beats waking up all from their slumber. Mellody pulled her tame less steed to a halt and struggled to keep balance. Hunter rushed out from his tent and took hold of its head. "What on earth is wrong?"
"Shadows," Mellody gasped, falling from the stallion's wide back into the arms of a fellow horn. "Shadows were near the far lake. I saw them—all of them! There were hundreds…hundreds of wicked little shadows…" her eyes rolled back and Hunter's eyes widened.
"Quick! Wake up the juniors! Get horns on all sides of the settlement; there can't be a spot left open!" The farms came alive and the horns began to resound through the valley. Hunter took control of Mellody's horse and sprinted out of the clearing. He would alert the watchmen at Battery Peak first: they were supposed to be guarding the lake as well.