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Sugarcandy Mountain, where the animals could finally rest after completing their strenuous labor, entranced Moses quite a bit more than usual. It always did, as he spent his days overtly devoted to it, but tonight it seemed to him to be sweeter. After all, it had always been there for him, and his heart twisted ever-so joyfully when he recalled all he and the mountain had been through together. Until the day he passed on, Moses could not ever be with the mountain in a tangible sense, but he caught the occasional glimpse of it in his mind's eye, and every time he did, a newfound hope sparked within him.
When he would wake, Sugarcandy Mountain was always, without fail, the first thought in his mind. When he slept, he dreamt of the Mountain in all its glory – the linseed cake growing on the hedges, the lump sugar, the clover, and each time would come to the realization that he could not feel more adoration for any other being that ever graced the world, although he cared for each one quite dearly. However, it was the Mountain, in his eyes, that encapsulated the sweetest form of reality, a utopia that he would never experience elsewhere. And so, each day, whether it be spent on or away from the farm, he would sing its praises.
Moses was quite the devoted raven, and it seemed to him that the Mountain answered his calls.
Moses had been perched on the barn roof, observing the animals as they went about their day, of how they toiled away and only ate at the pigs' convenience. He missed the breadcrumbs Jones gave him, which had occasionally been soaked in beer, but Moses could – oddly enough – understand the animals' perspective. They had faced harsh neglect from Jones to the extent that some days he would forget to feed them. Compared to the rest of the animals, Moses got splendid treatment, so perhaps this was necessary.
Still, something about Animal Farm unsettled him. Although Moses had not cared for Jones, a part of him wished he could be his raven again. When Jones was in charge, the animals did not do nearly as much work as they did now, and more importantly, did not put themselves above one another. At least for him, it had been a peaceful life, peering over Jones' shoulder during his nightly readings and gazing up at the stars from the barn roof. Moses could read more than most other animals, albeit not much, which was part of the reason he saw what was happening on the farm. He was not oblivious to it. Over time, the pigs gradually hogged more for themselves. First, the milk and apples, then the beds, then the alcohol (though admittedly, Moses liked to indulge from time to time behind their backs. It reminded him of the old days before Napoleon had taken over). The raven was a clever spy, both before and after Jones' incident with the animals.
Animal Farm was bleaker than Moses remembered. When he had last seen it a few years ago, the animals seemed to have at least a bit of hope that drove them. Now, after his return, every animal that wasn't a pig was so gloomy. It deeply saddened him, which is why his absence from the farm was not nearly as long as he initially planned. Perhaps it was worth it to be a beacon of hope for these tired, overworked animals?
That was the only reason he returned. He knew he was nearing his old age now, along with the few animals that had survived since the start of the Rebellion, so his tales of Sugarcandy Mountain only grew more meaningful. Soon, he as well as the older animals would ascend to the mountain, where it was Sunday seven days a week and no animal ever went hungry.
One day, Boxer, the beloved carthorse, had fallen ill and broken his leg. Despite Squealer's assurance of him being treated in hospital care, there was still an air of tension on the farm, for no animal truly knew what would happen to Boxer.
Moses had never been close with the worker horse, as he would merely tilt his head in confusion at his tales of Sugarcandy Mountain – where the animals would ascend once they had completed their labor, or more simply, passed on. The conversation would always come to an abrupt end. Still, Moses cared for him; he could tell Boxer had the heart of the Mountain itself within him. Whenever he caught a glimpse of Boxer limping, Moses would feel a twinge of pain in his own heart.
That night, Boxer was seen for the last time. A van had been sent to Animal Farm to carry him away. As per usual, Moses would perch on the barn roof and fix his eyes on the stars in a comforting prayer to the mountain above, to the being that created all his fellow comrades, each with their own dreams and wishes, each with their own stories to tell.
Deep down, he knew Boxer would never fret again, despite the sorrow that lingered throughout the farm. Benjamin was still cynical as ever, but the pain in his eyes was evident to the animals. Animal Farm would not be the same without him, ever.
Sudden visions began to churn in his mind, of Boxer smiling as much as a horse could smile and beginning his day by rolling around in a soft, sugary blanket. He would envision Boxer gobbling down candy apples from the apple tree, then receiving the well-deserved rest he had craved all his life by resting on soothing sugar lumps.
"Comrades, do not fear," Squealer would assure them, "I was with him until the very end. They did all they could do to save him, but alas, he died. I realize this is disheartening, but he lived a long and productive life in the service of Animal Farm, which is greatly more fulfilling than the life he would have lived under Jones." His tail would wag from side to side as he stated this; he seemed almost too enthusiastic regarding the death of one of the farm's most diligent workers.
According to Squealer, Minimus, and many others apart of the Committee of Pigs, Animal Farm was prospering. But Moses could only watch as the animals became scrawnier by the day. Oftentimes, the raven briefly left the farm to seek out his own food sources, which could be just about anything.
The following morning, Moses would tell more tales about Sugarcandy Mountain, and more animals gathered around to listen than usual. His small audience had become a large one, and he knew exactly what the reason was.
Clover shifted into a comfortable position on the ground, her tail wrapped around her hooves. Even Benjamin sprawled beside her, ears perked and ready to listen, despite bearing his usual uninterested expression. Most animals on the farm, with the obvious exception of the pigs, gave their full attention to Moses. This was much to the displeasure of Squealer, who seemed particularly irritable this morning. Moses assumed it was due to the rumor of Boxer being sent to the horse slaughterer still floating around.
Squealer cleared his throat. "Ahem, comrades, there is work that needs to be done -" but he was promptly cut short by Minimus, who gently nudged him.
"They are in a lot of pain right now," spoke Minimus, carrying the journal in which he would write his poetry. "I'd advise you to leave them be. If our comrades are unhappy, they will begin to detest us. We wouldn't want that, would we? You must realize they are more susceptible to lashing out after the workhorse was taken away. They appear to have valued him greatly."
Squealer let out a sigh, seemingly unwilling to admit forcing them to work was impulsive. "You're correct," he grunted, before trotting away with Minimus still at his side.
And so, the animals were left to Moses' tales.
"On Sugarcandy Mountain, there is no labor because it is always Sunday," Moses chirped with the utmost excitement. "There are licorice grasses and candy flowers. Suffering does not exist on the mountain. In fact, you will forget what it feels like to even suffer at all."
"So why must we live this way now?" Clover whinnied sadly, resting her head on her legs. She then tried to adopt a more optimistic tone, adding, "Maybe Boxer is in Sugarcandy Mountain. I hope he's all better now."
"Precisely," croaked Moses. "He is currently resting on a soft sugar lump. I often have visions of the mountain, as my firm belief has blessed me with them."
Benjamin merely scoffed at this but remained seated. Clover was the one more willing to learn. "... Have you had any other visions?" She muttered her inquiry quietly, but enough for Moses to hear her.
"Not of Boxer, no. But I have seen many of the animals that have passed on. And soon enough..." The sky drew Moses' attention once more, "we will, too."
At that moment, an idea developed in Moses' mind. It was an idea so risky that a considerable part of him believed he would be better off not saying anything, but the other truly wished to believe he could salvage Animal Farm. What was happening was only growing more apparent – with the pigs and the animals earnestly believing what they had to say, and with the rations being cut short. How was it fair that the pigs never went hungry, but the other animals did? Quite clearly, they could not speak up, for they would be immediately silenced or considered a traitor, but what if the raven could make even the slightest difference?
Perhaps Moses was better off starting subtle. "Comrades, are you certain that the life you are living is actually a pleasant one? Is this truly the way you want it to be?"
"Why would you expect it to change now?" Benjamin grumbled. "Even if it does, things will only repeat themselves." The donkey shook his head, got up, and trudged away.
Anxiety welled inside Moses as his thoughts grew increasingly convoluted. The rest of the animals listening just stared at him, some merely puzzled and some utterly dumbfounded, but still intrigued with what the raven was saying. He knew he could not just stop there; now they were more hooked than before. He glanced from left to right, then back again; each pair of eyes was fixed on him.
"I implore that you listen, as much as you might doubt this!" Moses desperately squawked. "Have you not seen how the pigs take the rations for themselves and starve you in return, even though you are the ones that toil away? I may not work, comrades, but at least I do not take your hard-earned meals from you. I would think such diligent animals deserve a life more tailored to them, one that is much more fruitful."
The sheep began their usual bleating, presumably to drown out Moses. "Four legs good, two legs bad!"
Even through the bleating, Clover decided to speak. "Please listen! We are all hungry and tired, and so was Boxer before he died. All we get are a few small rations a day, which isn't nearly enough to feed us."
While many of the animals still disliked Moses, or at least found him incompetent or eccentric, a few were beginning to come to his viewpoint. Yes, they were exhausted – but what were they to do about it? Another Rebellion would use resources and energy that the animals could not afford to spare.
Some of the animals, behind the pigs' backs, of course, began gathering on the outskirts of the farm in the late nights. They discussed their hopes for the future and spoke of an idealized life. Day by day, the animals' wishes consumed their minds, clouding thoughts of their usual dread with a rather shocking amount of hope. They, aside from Moses, still performed back-breaking labor, but were unusually optimistic – with the exception of Benjamin, but that was to be expected.
The tales of Sugarcandy Mountain were beginning to become quite a troubling matter. Gradually, an increasing number of animals were developing faith in the mountain, despite Squealer informing the animals that it was merely make-believe that could be disregarded. The more unsatisfied the animals became with their daily chores, the more the pigs felt they had to take some sort of action. But the question was: how? Targeting Moses or any other followers of Sugarcandy Mountain would cause an uproar amongst the farm, but the longer they overstayed their welcome, the less control the pigs felt they had. Yet, Squealer was devising a plan.
When the animals worked as usual, a few of the pigs could briefly hear them mutter prayers to Sugarcandy Mountain. In response, they would simply shoot the exhausted animal a harsh glare and go their separate ways, but it was clearly becoming a bother.
The name "Sugarcandy Mountain" engulfed the farm as a wildfire would. Some of the animals tried to ignore it, but to no avail. No matter how the animals felt, they parroted the name – when they were hopeless, jovial, fearful, shocked, or anything of the sort, forming a devotion to the mountain only Moses had felt before this.
The Mountain's followers recalled the harsh struggles they endured each day; the work was laborious, and they were being pushed to an extent they could no longer cope with. This time, however, the regular amount of tension during the meetings had only grown, and along with this, an unfamiliar emotion greeted them: rage. They felt foolish for their initial gratefulness towards the pigs, towards Napoleon's empty promises of guidance and leadership, towards Squealer's blatant lies, towards the reduced rations that were apparently to "benefit" them.
Squealer had paced around the farmhouse for much of the day, as he tended to when he was choosing words. The frustration and anxiety he had repressed in the Mountain's rising churned within him, and after a few weeks of this passed, he had come to the realization that he needed to act before Moses' tales reached the point of being too out of hand. Finally, he had caught Moses – who was on his lonesome when he wasn't spreading the gospel of Sugarcandy Mountain – and beckoned the raven over. Squealer's usual quirk of his tail whisking from side to side was visible.
"Comrade," he squealed, "is it not evident that you're going a bit far with your talk of 'Sugarcandy Mountain'?"
For a few moments, Moses could do nothing except give Squealer a puzzled glance. Was Squealer really just going to have a word with him, or did his intentions hold more malice?
"Well," Moses croaked with a slight disquiet he wished he could hide, "our comrades have been expressing their concerns with me. We are exhausted and famished. As a member of the Committee of Pigs, it should be clear to you that something must be done about the situation of Animal Farm."
"You perform no labor," blurted Squealer, "so why are you the one to speak about this, comrade? You come and go as you please, and not one animal on the farm has tried to prevent you from doing so. You are hardly one of them."
"When you assisted in the creation of the Commandments," retorted Moses, "you agreed that all animals are comrades. Why should that exclude me?"
Squealer's expression quickly morphed into that of a displeased one. "Come with me to the farmhouse, and we shall discuss our grievances there," he ordered in a rather cold tone before trotting away.
Moses felt a nagging apprehension, but by Squealer's order, still followed him inside. Perhaps he would have a chance of getting through to Squealer, however slim that possibility may be.
Inside the farmhouse, he was "greeted" by Napoleon, Minimus, Pinkeye, and a few other pigs, all of which crowded around him. Moses quickly scanned the inside of the farmhouse, and to his horror, Napoleon's nine dogs were situated in place.
"I should be taking my leave now..." Moses uttered, anxiously flapping his wings and preparing to glide away if necessary.
"Comrade, cowardice is not in the spirit of Animalism!" Squealer reminded him. "Remain here, and we may discuss things peacefully."
Despite everything inside Moses screaming that this was an unsafe situation, he was frozen in place. Had all the effort he put in for Sugarcandy Mountain all been in vain?
"Would you care to explain what you have been indoctrinating our comrades with, Moses?" Napoleon growled in one of the harshest tones Moses had heard in all of his years.
At that moment, the raven felt something inside him snap. Why was it that every ounce of devotion he directed towards the Mountain led up to this?
Moses struggled to keep his composure, and his voice cracked as he spoke, his fearfulness and anger merging into a single indescribable emotion. "It was a necessary plan, Comrade Napoleon. What else would you like me to explain?"
To the raven's dismay, a grin parted Napoleon's face. "I require nothing more of you."
Mere moments after his statement, a blinding flash overtook Moses' vision, and he was immediately overtaken by the pack of dogs rushing towards him. He made a last-ditch attempt to fly away, but a dog's tooth sank deeply into his wing, causing excruciating pain to lash through him, a type of pain he had never experienced until this point. Blood gushed from the wound, and before he knew it, Moses' entire body was battered to the core – he could do nothing more than let out a measly croak, which was nothing compared to the sheer pain that tormented him. Even so, a single question crossed his mind.
Did he really deserve this?
Maybe he had angered his beloved Mountain in some way. Perhaps this was his punishment. Still, Moses swore that he had been filled to the brim with nothing less than devotion for the Sugarcandy Mountain he had cherished all his life, and yet, this had happened to him. What had he done wrong? When he took his final glance at the world, would he really be with the Mountain as he had planned?
Some of the animals tried to peer inside the barn to get a closer look at the ruckus, but they could not see the raven’s small frame through the ravenous circle of dogs. This was it. At least Moses could die knowing he had spread the word of Sugarcandy Mountain all that he could – it had been his first and only purpose.
But Moses was quite the lonesome raven, and it seemed to him that the Mountain never answered his calls.