Chapter Four

Joan came to later that afternoon. She had been placed in the big barn to recover from her injuries, Mary and Plato taking the responsibility of watching over her as she slept. The rambunctious puppies had been led away by their father to play outside, where the fog had finally been replaced with some sunlight. As the gilt tried rolling over onto her belly, Mary rested a paw on her side.

"Ah, ah, my dear," said Mary with a gentle voice. "You mustn't move about just yet."

"Mmmph," Joan groaned in annoyance, although she hadn't yet the strength to disobey. She fell back onto her side, her floppy ears providing excellent shade from the light pouring in through the barn's windows. "How long was I out…?"

"Just a few hours," replied the border collie. "You're lucky to have survived! Archie certainly did a number on you!"

"Tsk...the bastard…" Joan grunted. "He just caught me off-guard, is all…"

"You were going to kill him," Plato spoke up, a sort-of scolding tone in his voice. Joan scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Please…" she began. "Spare me your lectures. What happened to "take my words as just a bit of perspective"?"

"You were almost killed because you went after Archie," said Plato firmly. "He was trying to flee, but you continued to pursue him."

"And so what if I was?" Joan lifted her head, glowering at the Yorkshire boar. "It's my right as a free animal!"

"Oh, silly me," Plato said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "I suppose next time we should all just stand by and watch you have your brains bashed in. It's your right as a free animal, after all."

"Listen here, you big-headed, self-righteous git-!"

"Dears, dears!" Mary stood up and stepped inbetween the quarreling pigs. "That is quite enough! What are you doing fighting each other? We're meant to be working together now. What sort of example would you be setting for the others if they saw you acting as unruly as Man?"

Neither pig could respond, looking away from the bitch as they began to feel shame. An uncomfortable silence fell over the barn. The other animals had looked up from their resting and chatting, looking over at the three in curiosity. Plato pawed at the straw for a moment, before turning and trotting out of the barn, muttering:

"Forgive me…"

"Hmph…" Joan finally murmured, lying her head back down, though, admittedly, her anger was cooled a bit due to Mary's lecture. The collie bitch turned to the gilt, shaking her head.

"Joan…" she began.

"I'm sorry," Joan interrupted. "Alright? He's just...Well...you know how he is! Always talking with big, fancy words and acting all sophisticated...It drives me mad!"

"I understand that," replied Mary, sitting beside the Gloucestershire. "But you must remember, dear, that it's in his nature to act that way, just as it's in your nature to be free-spirited. Now, don't think I'm taking sides, but...you terrified everyone this morning, Joan, Plato, perhaps, most of all. I understand that it was your right to go after Archie, but...just because you can do something...that doesn't necessarily mean you should do it." Mary paused, seeing Joan's brow furrowing. "Joan, I...I understand...Archie's done so much to you, more than any of us have suffered...But you have to understand that your actions can lead to consequences. Just...try to think more before you act next time, not just for yourself, but for the others, as well. No one wants to lose you, you know?"

Joan remained quiet, but Mary could tell by the look on her face that she was thinking about what she had said. Mary watched the gilt for a moments, before standing up again.

"I'll go and fetch your morning rations," said Mary. "A good bit of food should help the with the healing process."

"Thank you…"

While the two females had been talking, Plato had trotted away from the farm buildings, and towards the pasture. He climbed up the to the highest point, being especially careful not to trod on the graves. As the boar gazed over the pasture, he noticed how beautiful the day had become. One could almost forget that there had been a rainstorm and fog just that morning. The sheep herd was just a ways away, Balthasar, of course, in the lead. However, the ram seemed to be behaving rather strangely. Every couple of minutes, he would begin walking away from the herd, his pace slow, almost, prowling-like. Then, his bell would ring, catching the attention of the herd and sending them rushing after them. This repeated a few times, before Balthasar finally spotted Plato, and trotted up the hill towards him. The rest of the sheep were in hot pursuit.

"Oh, Lord…" Plato murmured. Still, the Yorkshire decided to be polite, and walked down to meet the ram. "Ah, Balthasar. Afternoon. Is everything alright?"

"Not really, no," Balthasar replied, having to raise his voice over the bleating of the other sheep. "Er...you see...now that we're free, I had wanted to try and spend some time on my own. But this blasted bell always bringing the herd after me. Don't get me wrong, I love my herd, but...well…"

"Oh, yes...I understand."

"So, I was hoping that, maybe, you could…?"

"Say no more. I would be happy to."

Balthasar lowered his head, allowing Plato to properly get his teeth on Balthasar's collar. It took some effort, but in a few minutes, Plato had managed to unstrap the collar, and it slipped off of Balthasar's neck onto the ground. Balthasar let out a satisfied sigh, shaking his head.

"Oh, that feels so much better…" bleated the ram. "Thank you so much, Plato!"

"Of course, my friend," replied the boar with a smile. He nudged the collar with his trotter. "I shall dispose of this for you. It's made of leather. You know...cow skin." Balthasar recoiled in disgust.

"Humans really are dreadful, aren't they?"

"It would appear so, yes. Everything bad that happens to us stems from them, after all."

"And yet...you always insist they be spared when we fight them," Balthasar pointed out. "Not that I'm doubting your judgement or anything...it's just really strange when I think about it. Not that thinking's really a sheep's strong suit, heh…"

"I just don't want to see any more bloodshed," said Plato grimly. "Humans are dangerous, especially when they can get their hands on a weapon. What they lack in strength or some biological asset, like horns or fangs, they make up for with tools that can kill with ease. That is why I only want animals on the battlefield for the shortest time possible, drive the humans away, and return to safety. And…" Plato had began pacing as he spoke, and when he paused, he felt his breathing turn funny, and his eyes began to burn with tears. "And...I know it seems like I'm telling everyone what to do, but...I just feel like if I don't, someone's going to get themselves hurt. I...I don't want this place to become a graveyard, Balthasar. I don't want to lose anyone else."

"I understand, Plato," Balthasar said. "I may not be speaking for the others, but I appreciate what you're doing. You're providing us with some logic; that's what I think, anyway."

"Thank you, Balthasar. And...thank you for this morning. For speaking on my behalf. I admit...I think I had forgotten my own ideals for a moment. I was just as excited as some other animals to see Poppy crush Archie's head."

"Ah, don't mention it, Plato. And it's alright...anger clouds even the calmest of minds, I suppose."

"Hmm…" Plato turned back to the ram, smiling just slightly. "You don't give yourself enough credit, old boy. You're quite clever." If Balthasar had been given the ability to blush, he would have at that very moment. Plato paused again, before speaking once more.

"I think I shall call the animals together tonight in the barn," he began. "Now that the humans are gone...it's time we create this society as Animal Farm created theirs. Could you and your herd spread the word when you get the chance?"

"But, of course, Plato," replied the ram, who turned and began to walk down the hill. "Until tonight, hmm?"

"That's right. Thank you, Balthasar!"

As Plato had asked, Balthasar and his herd had spread the news of the Yorkshire's desire to meet. The day slowly bled into night, and as the stars began to appear in the sky, most of the animals gathered into the farm. Poppy had remained in her stall, lying down with her head on her straw bedding. Her father was about to leave his stall next door, when he paused, and gazed through the iron bars that kept him from craning his head into the stalls to his left or right.

"You won't join us, love?" Gale asked in concern.

"No," replied Poppy, her voice rough.

"Why not?"

"Too tired…"

"This meeting could do you some good, you know? I have a feeling we'll be meeting for happier matters. And since we're free, perhaps you could finally get around to planning that trip to Animal Farm. You could see finally see your mother again…"

"Mother…" Poppy slowly stood up, glancing over at the stallion. "Do you think she would have…"

"Killed a human?"

Poppy winced at the reminder of what she had almost done in her moment of madness. She looked away, her eyes closing tightly.

"I...I just felt so angry at him…" Poppy whinnied bitterly.

"I know, love," replied Gale. "I...I'm not sure of Clover would've done such a thing. Perhaps if someone she knew was in grave danger...she always did have that motherly air about her."

"But no one was in danger...Archie was all alone and wounded, and yet…" The mare shook her head.

"It's alright, love…"

"It's not alright! What would Mother think if she'd known I was going to become a cold-blooded killer? No better than a human!?" Gale didn't respond for a moment. It really was a difficult situation with no definite right or wrong answer. Still, Gale wouldn't let his daughter suffer. She was a good animal, and he knew it.

"I think…" Gale began slowly. "I think she would see that you had lost your senses for a moment, you and the other animals. But that fact that you show remorse now shows who you truly are. Besides...you're still young. You still have much to learn. Fortunately we have Plato, Joan and the others to help us remember who we are, to give us...oh, what the word...perspective?" The elder carthorse paused, allowing Poppy the chance to respond. The mare remained silent, and Gale sighed. He finally pushed open his stall door with his nose and began to trot out. "Remember, love...you're always welcome to join us."

"Hmm…" Poppy murmured, though she said nothing more.

Gale left the horse stalls, trotting towards the main barn, where he could hear the hum of conversation. He stepped inside, seeing the animals settled before the hay bales on which Plato was sitting. He looked for Joan, and spotted her in Mary and Dodger's little corner of the barn. She had finally been allowed to sit up, and was watching the puppies play and run around her in amusement. Gale smiled at the sight, before looking up at Plato. He was looking down at Joan, an unreadable expression on his face. Gale had heard gossip from some of the other animals that there had been a fight between the two pigs. He wondered if things had been patched up between them, though if he had to guess, he would have to say no. The stallion decided to take a seat, trodding carefully in the straw as not to trample the geese or ducks. He settled down in the back of the barn and began to wait in silence. A few minutes passed after that, Plato keeping an eye on the barn door to see if any other animal was going to come in. After about ten minutes, Plato decided to begin. He very loudly cleared his throat, catching the animals' attention and causing them to shush each other. The barn fell silent in a matter of seconds.

"Thank you," said Plato. "Now, comrades, tonight marks our first night of true freedom. All humans that once lived or worked on this farm have gone, and we can now tend to our own affairs. Now, I understand that we have gotten off to a rough start...from losing comrades to butting heads with them." Joan could feel eyes stare into her at that statement. "But...I believe we can move past that. No matter what happens, no matter how much we fight...we are still comrades at heart. We care about each other, we respect each other...that is what will make this society work, comrades. I propose that we begin by lifting our spirits."

Plato paused, clearing his throat again. He then then began singing "Beasts of England". The other animals listened carefully, at first not quite feeling that sense of excitement they had felt when the pigeon had sang it to them before. But then, Joan began to sing, followed by the puppies, who were entirely sure what they were singing exactly, but nevertheless, wanted to join it. Mary and Dodger joined in after that, and soon, the other animals followed. They started off rather halfheartedly at first, but as they got through each verse and recalled their victories of the past 24 hours, they began to feel something swelling in their chests. They realized, all over again, that they were free, that they would no longer be hurt by Man. Finally, a tremendous uproar came from the barn, and this time, no human was going to interfere.

In the horse stalls, Poppy could hear the commotion, her ears swiveling in the direction of the barn. Even in her state, she, too, was beginning to feel hope, that she was doing the right thing, not just for her own good, but the good of her comrades, as well. She remained in her stall for the remainder of the night, but hummed along to herself, her tail whisking to the melody.

The animals sang "Beasts of England" about five or six times, and by them, they had become high off of the euphoric energy the song had given them. Plato began to speak again. He reminded the animals of Animal Farm and what it stood for, according to the rumors. The animals there worked to provide for themselves. No longer was their milk or eggs stolen, but rather went into the creation of the next generation of free animals. There was also a system of education, and every animal had learned to read and write in some capacity. No animal killed another, not even for food. This point had caused some uneasiness in Dodger. Dogs were carnivores, unlike the majority of the farm. What were they meant to eat? Mary had pointed out then that there was a supply of dog biscuits and kibble. Some questioned this, as kibble was supposedly made of meat, while others argued that it wouldn't be fair to starve to dogs, as they couldn't help being born carnivores. Eventually, the majority came to agree that the dogs could eat the kibble, and once it ran out, an alternative would be figured out.

"Shall we rename Golden Hills to Animal Farm as well?" asked a goat.

"Hmm…" Plato pondered. "It wouldn't be very unique of us. We might be following Animal Farm's influence, but we can afford to have some individuality. If we are going to rename the Golden Hills Farm, we need something to represent us and what we stand for. Our farm is going to be a sanctuary for all animals, a haven for all beasts." Plato then paused, his eyes widening. "Wait...that's it...Animals! I propose that the farm now be called...Beast's Haven."

The barn was silent as the animals thought over the new name. It buzzed around in their minds, some of them even testing it out on their tongues. Before long, the animals began to cry out in approval, chanting the name over and over again. After some time, Plato lifted his trotter, and the animals began to quiet down.

"Alright, comrades," Plato continued. "Is there anything else anyone feels the need to discuss?"

"Might we become allies with Animal Farm?" Gale questioned.

"Well, I don't see why not," responded Plato. "Besides, perhaps it would be good for us to learn how to read and write. I'm not entirely sure what use it'll be, but it never hurts to be prepared. I request that the pigeons fly to Animal Farm in the morning and offer our alliance, perhaps even tutoring, if they'd be so kind. Does the farm agree to this?" The animals approved, and the deed would be done. The meeting came to an end shortly after that, and the animals began to head off for the night. Plato watched as the barn slowly became empty, apart from the family of dogs and Joan. The Yorkshire stepped down from the hay bales, slowly passing by Joan and the dogs. The gilt followed his movements with her eyes, and Mary did the same to Joan.

"Perhaps you should make amends with him," Mary suggested, before herding away the puppies in order to lay them down for bed. Joan continued to watch him as he stepped out of the barn. She suddenly got to her feet, trotting after him. She stepped outside, the cool air being an almost welcome change to the warmth of the barn.

"Oi," the gilt called out, catching Plato's attention. The boar turned to her, his eyes widened in surprise.

"Joan…?" he said.

"No, I'm her twin sister, Janice," Joan scoffed.

"I...just wasn't expecting you to talk to me," Plato admitted. "Not after…"

"Mmm...well, about that…" Joan paced about, finding it hard to look the boar in the eye. "Mary had a talk with me after you left the barn. Gave me a bit of...perspective. Heh...ain't that the word of the day...Anyway, I realized that...I wasn't exactly being fair to you. I admit, I act without thinking most of the time, and not only end up hurting myself, but…" Joan finally managed to turn her gaze towards the boar. "You lot, as well…"

"Joan…" said Plato softly. "I have...been unfair to you, myself. No matter how I feel, I should never try to control you, or anyone else on this farm. Everyone has the right to act as he or she chooses, and I have to accept that."

"But…" Joan added. "Perhaps we should act with common sense every once in a while, yeah?" The two pigs shared a laugh.

"You're looking better, by the way," Plato commented. "The swelling on your head's gone down a bit. It was almost as big as mine before." Joan laughed, much louder this time. The pigs began to to walk, side by side, towards the pigpen, joking with each other all the way. It seemed that things were finally beginning to come around at Beast's Haven.