The Trouble In Twisting Forest

"There weren't always dragons in the Valley." That's how Farnwick Fox began his speech. His voice was stern and strong as he stood before a large crowd on Knotty Knoll. "And," he continued, "Ladies and gentlemen, as the old saying goes, when they show up, you better ask yourself why!"

A sly, self-satisfied smile spread across his pudgy face as the crowd rumbled in agreement, waving campaign signs reading "Farnwick the Only Pick," and "Breathing Fire Surely a Liar."

He raised a reddish paw to calm the audience. He continued, "As your Governor for the past five years and a lifelong resident of Twisting Forest, I know our issues. I know the work to be done. I've started that work and need your votes to continue making Twisting Forest terrific!"

More cheers came from the crowd as the residents stomped, clapped their paws, howled, chirped and nodded in approval.

"Excuse me, a raspy voice came from a nearby tree, "Oliver Owl, from the Forest Inquisitor..."

Farnwick's amber eyes narrowed sharply. He didn't care much for the press and especially disliked Oliver Owl. He was always sticking his beak in where it wasn't wanted, asking questions, making accusations. "Save your questions till the end, please," he said flatly.

Oliver nodded and sat back on his branch, allowing the incumbent to continue.

"My opponent," he continued, "is a worthy adversary, but she is not from here. She doesn't know the issues we face. In these troubled times, change is death! Continuity is critical!"

The fox paused, allowing his words to sink in. He slinked back and forth, stalking the knoll, pausing every now and then to straighten his bowtie and wink at well-wishers.

"I've worked tirelessly in my term to restore peace and prosperity to the Forest and we're on the precipice here," he grinned, returning to the podium.

He licked his lips and turned briefly to face his wife, Felicia, "We've worked tirelessly. And now, we humble ourselves. I humble myself, as I always have and ask you, the residents of this fine forest to help me help you make Twisting Forest terrific! On July 4 vote Farnwick Fox, thank you."

Most residents erupted into a mix of excited chatter and applause while a few grumbled softly, shaking their heads in disapproval.

Felica Fox stood up and strode confidently to the podium to join her husband. Long and lean with a bushy red, white-tipped tail, she cut a striking figure. Her yellow silk bow offset her almost hazel eyes perfectly. She took his paw in hers and raised it before the crowd as if they were already celebrating his victory.

"We will now entertain questions," she cooed, her voice sweetly high-pitched like a young kit at the height of its innocence.

Oliver Owl again stepped forward on his branch, raising his wing, "Governor, again, Oliver Owl, Forest Inquisitor, if I may..."

Mr and Mrs Fox nodded in unison.

"Thank you," the journalist began, "given the inter-species tension in the Forest, I have to ask you why you've chosen to focus your campaign on your opponent, Doralinda Dragon's dragonhood? Do you not think your messaging could be seen as divisive, even bigoted?"

Farnwick sighed loudly then wiped his brow. He leaned forward on the podium and addressed the question, "I acknowledge the signs that some supporters are carrying convey a bigoted message. They were designed by an over-zealous junior staffer that I personally released from my campaign."

Felicia chimed in, " rest assured, the Fox team denounces inter-species violence and tension in all its forms. There is no place for it in our campaign or in our forest."

The journalist continued, looking past Felicia to Mr Fox, "To be clear, sir, are you now saying that you clearly denounce the recent rise in inter-species violence?"

Farnwick straightened himself and stepped away from the lectern. He shifted himself to the edge of the knoll and sat down, eye to eye with his audience. "I do," he replied vehemently, "I am Governor for all residents of this forest. I'd happily break bread or beast, or drink from the same stream as a Dragon. I greatly admire and respect the Dragon culture. In fact, Felicia and I have many Dragon friends."

He paused, again letting his words sink in for effect.

"Next question, someone else, please."

"What about the nesting crisis?" Samira Swallow chirped, "I have 3 eggs about to hatch and can't find a branch big enough to build a larger nest."

"We're working on it," he smiled.

The tiny bird pressed on, "I can't raise 3 kids in the nest I have. There's no room."

"I understand and I feel your pain," Farnwick nodded sympathetically, "initiatives are underway to address the very serious nesting crisis. Initiatives that will die on the order table if I'm not elected."

"Darnell Deer here," a six-point buck stepped forward, "What about the food situation? Grass, berries, they're all in short supply."

"We have a plan to address that as well," the fox smiled showing his razor-sharp teeth, "we know the hardships you face, we're facing them too. We're all feeling the pinch."

"On that note," a low rumbling voice from near the river bank began," Bernice Beaver, reporter for The Bush Beat, "Can you explain why last year when we were directed to shelter in place due to the Terrible Tick Crisis, you were seen hosting and attending great feasts with other forest leaders?"

Fenwick's eyes glowed with anger as he cleared his throat. It was a question he'd come to expect, but one he was tired of answering. He stood up, walked swiftly back to the podium and gripped it with both paws, leaning as far forward as he was able.

"Miss....Beaver, was it?" he took in a long deep breath, I understand how those feasts must have looked." He released one paw, then the other.

He strode across the knoll, back and forth. "But those feasts were not simple parties for our own aggrandisement, they were planned months, years, even, in advance. They could not be cancelled."

The beaver sat stonefaced, unimpressed by the candidate's cunning.

The fox continued, again taking a seat on the tiny hill, adopting a folksy posture, "Those feasts were business meetings - essential to continue diplomatic and business relations with our neighbouring forests."

Bernice rolled her eyes visibly. "There have been reports that during these feasts you and your guests drank Sweet Creek nearly dry. Given the recent water shortages, can you address that accusation?"

Farnwick stared hard at the beaver, his eye fixed in a silent but unmistakable challenge, "One hundred per cent false, never happened!"

Mrs Fox stepped to the dais, cutting questioning short, "If there's nothing more, we'll turn the podium over to my husband's esteemed opposition, Doralinda Dragon. Please give her a warm welcome." She smiled sweetly almost completely concealing her venom.

The challenger slowly walked toward the small hill to faint applause, beads of sweat visible on her greenish, scaly skin.

She began with a bit of a joke, "Mr Fox says there weren't always dragons in the Valley. Well, I don't know what valley that is. But I do know dragons have been in the tri-forest area for generations! Maybe Mr Fox wasn't paying attention."

Chuckles along with slight murmurs of agreement came from the audience.

"It's true," she explained, "that my wife, Delores and I aren't originally from Twisting Forest. We moved here 7 years ago. She, as you know, was mayor of Oak Sector, Woodlands Forest for 12 years before fire destroyed our home and community."

Gasps of sympathy, then a hush fell over the crowd as they recalled the tragedy that had befallen their neighbouring forest. They gave the challenger their full attention.

"We, like many of you," she explained, "came with our family in search of not only a better life for ourselves but a better life for all of us."

Tentative cheers began to rise, the residents each looking at each other with uncertainty and trepidation. Did they dare openly show support for the greenish-brown, fire-breathing newcomer?

"Mr Fox," Doralinda got to the meat of her pitch, "claims to run on his record yet he attacks me and my species." She lifted her head proudly, "cheap shots are for those who have no record."

The cheers grew a bit louder.

"Delores and I have been all in here," she continued, "we started the Nuts and Seeds Bank to feed birds and other herbivores in need and have served 487 families in need to date."

Clapping of wings, hooves and paws began in earnest as the crowd began chanting, "Doralinda, Doralinda!"

Oliver Owl interjected, cutting through the cheers like a blunt butter knife, "Ms Dragon, how will you address the nesting crisis if you're elected?"

Doralinda swished her tail and looked toward Delores, sitting just to her right. Then she nodded toward the two beavers beside her. "I've been working, actually my wife and I have been working closely with the beaver community to address this," she smiled.

"It's not a complete solution, but we've agreed on two key initiatives," she explained. "First, Nibble Free Zones, where beavers will refrain from chewing down trees. And second, Chomp One, Plant One, a program by which the beaver community pledges to plant one seed for every tree they chomp down. Chomp a tree, plant a seed."

More applause.

Samira Swallow frowned hard, her beak set in harsh distrust, "That's great for later, but what about now?" she challenged.

The challenger shook her head, inhaled deeply and looked the tiny bird in the eye, "I don't know," she admitted. "All I can tell you is that I'll do everything I can. These issues have to be addressed now so they don't get worse later."

Bertrand Bear burped then shook his head, "What about me?" he asked. "With the changing climate, I haven't had a decent season's sleep in years!"

Doralinda looked again at her wife, Delores who stood up and came to stand beside her. Her green eyes sparkled with determination. They grasped claws and wound their long tails around one another.

"We've provided 170 sleep masks and cooling units to bears in the past year to keep them comfortably cool during hibernation through the Don't Wake The Bears Program. with your help, we hope to double those numbers."

Fenwick rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion hoping to draw attention to his rival's shortcomings. Felicia sat back, perfectly coiffed and confident, smirking derisively.

Doralinda addressed the inhabitants again, "I don't have all the answers," she admitted. "But, look at your choices, I have concrete plans, what does Mr Fox have?"

Boos from the flat grass began.

"How do we know you're not just out for dragons like yourself?" Roxy Raccoon challenged.

Delores edged her wife aside, "How do you know Fenwick Fox isn't just out for foxes? How have you, as a raccoon benefitted from his regime?"

Roxy paused to think, then stepped back. She hadn't benefitted at all. In fact, scavengings were down at least 30%.

Doralinda took the podium again to make her final plea. "Ladies and gentlemen of Twisted Forest, all I ask is that you closely examine your lives and the kind of community you want to live in. Are you better off? Are your neighbours better off? Who has grown fat while you've grown slim? Who partied down while you hunkered down?"

The audience sat in stunned silence suddenly mentally cutting through the rhetoric to ponder the bitter reality of life in the forest. The scarcity, the heat, the stress of day to day living when nothing ever seemed to be enough.

"I urge you to examine the facts," the dragon continued. "Take a moment to remember your life five years ago, before Fenwick Fox took over. Then think about your life now. I think the choice is obvious, don't you?"