Chapter Three

The sky was covered in a layer of silvery-gray clouds that morning. The cockeral's cry was heavy and forlorn, reflecting the mood of the rest of the animals. A small shower had started up about an hour earlier, forcing the animals to spend their first day of freedom inside. At the pig pen, most of the pigs were inside, not bothering to take advantage of the cool mud produced by the rain. Instead, they crowded at the entrance of their shelter, gazing out at Joan, who, despite being free to sleep inside with them, was lying in her corner outside. Some of the porkers had whispered that she had been crying, not that they blamed her. Plato pushed his way past the other pigs, making his way out into the rain and mud. He trotted up to Joan, nudging her with a hoof.

"Joan," he began. The gilt turned her head, staring up at the Yorkshire with cold, empty eyes.

"What do you want?" Joan asked. "Just leave me alone."

"I just wanted to see if you were alright," replied Plato, sitting down beside her. "I know you're upset, and so am I...we all are. But...I think they'd all want us to be happy, for their sakes. Irons is gone; we can be free now."

"We're not free yet," Joan shot back fiercely. "The farmhands are coming soon."

"They'll be easy to chase off. Together, we're strong, remember? Isn't that what you said? What she said?" There was a moment of silence, before Plato continued. "Look, Joan. That representative might've inspired you, but you were the one to inspire us. I never thought I'd be organizing a plan to raid the farmhouse, but look what happened. That was because of you, Joan. You've always been a beacon of hope for us, even before this whole rebellion thing. Sure, you're a bit, erm, overzealous sometimes, but I think I speak for every animal when I say that we'd forever be lost and afraid without you."

Joan expression grew more thoughtful as Plato spoke, and eventually, she allowed a smile to appear on her face. She sat up, blinking away the rest of her tears.

"Hmm," she murmured. "I suppose someone's got to fight the humans while you sit around giving speeches." The two pigs shared a laugh, and coincidentally, the rain came to a stop. Plato stood up, shaking droplets of water from his skin.

"Well...we'd better get ready for the farmhands," he said.

For the next few minutes, Plato and Joan gathered the animals together in the middle of the courtyard. Aside from a few complaints about the bad weather, the animals assembled quickly and quietly. The only animals who were absent were Mary and her puppies, who were, naturally, exempt from any fighting. As Plato paced in front of his comrades, he reminded them of their final task. Despite the farmhands' larger numbers, Plato explained, they only had whips at their disposal, rather guns or some other lethal weapon.

"But whips hurt," said someone.

"I know, comrade," Plato replied. "But you mustn't fear the whip. Remember your bravery from last night, and the bravery of your comrades. Use the pain of that whip to fuel your desire for freedom! But remember, comrades: only use as much force as you need. Our goal is the drive the humans off, not to kill. In fighting Man, we must not become as cruel as he is."

Nearly all of the animals cried out in agreement, the only silent creature being, of course, Joan. Plato watched her carefully. He could see that the desire for vengeance still lingered in her eyes. He turned to her.

"Joan," he began. The other animals turned to look at the gilt. Joan stared at Plato, silent but radiating an air of defiance. "Joan, can you agree to fight in the name of liberation rather than retaliation?"

"After all that they did to me?" Joan shot back with a snort. "Why should I?"

"That's a good question," Plato responded. "One I cannot give a straight answer to. Joan, I understand completely why you wish to kill them. The tortures you've lived through far surpasses anything the rest of us have suffered. Don't think I don't wish to see the humans pay for their crimes as well. But what I want more than revenge are comrades I can enjoy freedom with. The last thing I want to see is someone getting struck down in an attempt to fight. Is it wrong to wish for the safety of my friends, Joan?" The Gloucestershire was silent, her gaze falling to the side as she absorbed the boar's words. Plato was also quiet for a moment, before letting out a small chuckle.

"Look at me...trying to tell you what to do, what to think...You're free to act as you see fit, Joan. Take my words as just a bit of perspective." Plato began backing away, but paused with Joan let out a sharp:

"Wait."

Joan looked up at Plato. The boar couldn't quite make out the emotion in her eyes. The rest of the animals continued to watch in interest.

"I'll...consider what you said," the gilt finally said, causing Plato to smile in relief.

"I appreciate it, Joan."

The next thirty minutes or so consisted of the animals waiting in the courtyard. The rain had finally come to a stop, but a layer of fog had gathered in its place. The farmhands wouldn't be able to see the animals waiting for them, but the same could be said for the animals in regards of the farmhands. The pigeons took to the air, scouting the land for any signs of humans. Their patience was soon rewarded when, one by one, the farmhands entered the farm gates. Half of the pigeons flew back to the courtyard.

"They're coming!" they twittered frantically. "They've just come through the gate!"

"Forward, comrades!" Plato cried as the animals tore across the courtyard. The pigeons guided them down the steep, rocky trail that led to the farm's entrance. Their voices mingled together in a mighty roar, one that stopped the farmhands in their tracks.

"What the bloody hell…?" one of them began. The farmhands watched in growing terror as the animals' shadows appeared in the fog, a large amalgamation of heads, bodies and limbs. Joan was the first to emerge from the fog, and with her jaws parted, she attacked the first man to come in her sights. The rest of the animals followed, and a battle ensued. The farmlands fought back as best they could, lashing at the animals with their whips, but the animals no longer felt fear. The farmhand Joan had attacked fell over onto his back, and with a yelp, he threw up his arms in an attempt to avoid having his face bitten. Joan had been prepared to gore into the man's arms with her tusks, when she was suddenly kicked in the side. She flew off the harmhand, squealing in surprise and pain, and landed roughly on her side. She scrambled to her trotters and looked to see who had kicked her, and to both her disgust and pleasure, she saw that it was Archie.

"You damned pig," Archie seethed. "You're dead." Joan glared at her former torturer, the past season of cruelty running through her mind. She wanted to kill him, she wanted to see him suffer…Now was her change for payback.

"Die!" Joan roared, charging at Archie. Archie stood his ground, but Joan wasn't deterred. Archie aimed a kick at her, which only caused the gilt to smirk. He really thought she was some dumb animal. At the last possible second, Joan darted to the side, narrowly missing the kick. Once she was behind Archie, she lunged for him, and before he could even realize what going on, Joan had sank her tusks into his the back of his thigh. Archie let out a horrific scream, thrashing his leg about to try and shake Joan off. It did nothing but make Joan bite down harder and harder, blood running down the man's leg. The sickeningly sweet satisfaction of watching Archie suffer was beginning to cloud Joan's judgement. She pulled her head back, forcing Archie to lose his balance and fall over. It was only then that Joan let go. She had a better idea of where to bite. Archie, meanwhile, was crawling away, dragging his injured leg behind him. Joan charged once more, rounding Archie's body again and aiming for his throat…

THWACK!

Joan cried out shrilly, staggering back and shaking her throbbing head. Archie had hit her with a rock he found on the ground. A bleeding gash had formed on Joan's right temple. Taking advantage of the situation, Archie crawled up to Joan and bashed her head with the rock again, and again, and again. The blows were quick and excruciating; Joan couldn't pull herself out of the way. With a soft moan, Joan slipped away into unconsciousness and collapsed. With a crooked smile, Archie raised the rock once more to snuff out Joan's life, when the air was pierced by a sharp whiny.

"Don't touch her!" Poppy shouted, her feathery hoof landing hard on Archie's back. The farmhand was pinned with a surprised gasped, and looked around. The other men were retreating now, some of the animals chasing them off through the farm gate. Even the man Archie had saved from Joan found his life more valuable. Archie soon found himself alone as the animals surrounded him. The animals looked at Joan and then at Archie, rage burning in their eyes. Poppy then placed her hoof on Archie's head.

"How dare you!" the mare snapped. "How dare you hurt her! I'll crush you, you horrible man!"

"No, Poppy," bleated Balthasar. "Remember what Plato said. We shouldn't kill out of petty revenge like humans do."

"It's not about revenge," growled Dodger, the fur on his spine standing on end. "It's about justice! The bastard murdered Joan!"

Immediately, the animals began to argue over what should've been done with Archie. A majority called for his execution, while the minority,made up mostly by Balthasar and his herd, called for his banishment from the farm. Gale tapped his hoof against the ground, gaining everyone's attention.

"That's enough," his voice boomed, trying to sound as authoritative as he could. He turned to his daughter, his gaze turning soft. "Listen, love...don't do something you might end up regretting…"

"But…" Poppy began tearing up. "He...He killed…"

"No…" said Gale, shaking his head. "We've all jumped to conclusions. Look at Joan; she's still breathing. She's alive." The animals looked, and saw that Gale spoke the truth. It seemed to quell their anger just a bit. Gale turned to Plato. "Plato...what do you think we should do?"

Plato had been silent the entire time, standing over Joan's body protectively, and staring at Archie with cold, unfeeling eyes. He never looked away, not even when Gale had called him. He didn't respond to the question at first, but, instead, slowly walked up to Archie, who had been quivering under the animals' withering gazes, and shoved his snout into his face.

"You listen to me, Archie," he began in a low whisper. "If I, or any of my comrades, so much as smell you or your kind on this farm after today, there will not be any mercy, I guarantee you." Of course, Archie couldn't understand Plato's snorts and squeals, but with his mind being clouded by anger, Plato hardly cared. The boar turned, walking back to Joan, muttering, "Drag him out of here. He's harmless against us now."

Some of the animals continued to murmur their desire to kill Archie, but they did nothing to argue against Plato, who very clearly wanted no more to do with the situation. Most of the animals began to head back towards the barns, Balthasar and his sheep taking the task of removing Archie from the premises. Poppy distanced herself from the others, walking far behind them with her head lowered. Gale looked back at her, his ears falling back. He began to wonder...was all of this really worth it? The humans were finally gone and yet...there was no happiness to be found. Where was the utopia the pigeon representative had promised? Gale just couldn't be sure. What he did know what that Plato was right. The animals needed to remain righteous and good. If they adopted man's violent nature, not only would they in danger of becoming more human, but they would also in danger of destroying themselves.