The figures cast by the retreating Shadows were just beginning to disappear over the hill. Jazz's rage had run through the group like a sweet-water river, and now Eufo was gulping up what he could. For the first time, a new found fire flickered in the athletic Senior's dark brown orbs. He watched them return to the camps while leaning on the band hall's broken wall. Jazz was drinking next to him. ""I say we get them back. We worked hard fixing up the hall. Now, it's ruined."
"You're right, Jazz," Eufo sneered. "Tonight we go and ruffle a few of their feathers."
"Yellow-bellied chickens." Jazz spit into the dying grass. Reid and Cornett slowly appeared from trying to clean things up inside. Immediately, Reid didn't like what he saw.
"Are you boys trying to set the field on fire by looking at it?" Cornett chuckled, nudging Reid in the side.
"Come on, let's go over to Jazz's and have a drink."
"Don't start, Cornett, not now," Jazz hissed. "We're going to get back at those loser drop-outs twice as bad as they hit us." Reid's smile faded and he stepped forward to try and obscure their view.
"Hey, Ette said we're not playing like that. When it's started, it's hard to stop, and people will get killed." Cornett solemnly nodded and stood next to Reid.
"We're going to do this by the rules," Cornett added. "And the rules say all war's on the field."
"It's already been started! Just turn and look in there!" Eufo exclaimed. Reid even glanced back to the door. Gliss was just walking out.
"Did I miss something?" the risible youth questioned, scratching the back of his head dully. Eufo pushed by, taking Jazz with him.
"No, nothing's happened. Yet." Reid sighed, watching them go. Cornett was equally distraught.
"I don't like the sound of that. We have to keep an eye on them."
"It's just steam. I don't think they'll be going anywhere." Gliss yawned and started towards the rest of the migrating Trombones.
"Good night, guys."
"Night, Gliss."
"Careful going home, Gliss." And the three parted.
Two torches lit the way as a Baritone, Saxophone, and even a few others crept along the trail out of Brass Mountains. Two boards slammed down over the mouth of the main well, a forgotten source to the Brass sections but obviously still needed by the Shadows. The dark skies overhead roared thunder, and a few fat drops plummeted down. "Is this enough to cover it?" a hushed voice asked. A few more nails broke through the fresh lumber.
"I hope this rain doesn't get through."
"You do realize that the Shadows won't have any water tomorrow. It's going to hit them hard." A pair of eyes blinked and nodded.
"Deserves them right. Quick, hand me that hammer?" The exchange of metal was made. The head of the tool flashed in the light—it was French brass.
"Come on, let's go. It's really coming down." The feet scurried across the wet mud. The deed was done. Not a drop seeped through the wood into the dry well.