Archive of Our Own

The white mare cheerfully gorged the last remaining sugar lump from the publican’s outstretched hand – it had been quite a while since she had dined like this. Back in her stable at Manor – or had it been Animal? -- Farm, she had only ever been offered oats and hay, and although she held no detestation for her usual meals, the mundane taste was not comparable to the way she craved the sweet, serene taste of the sugar lumps Jones used to feed her, at least, back when Jones did feed the animals.

However, at a certain point in the horse's life, the average day only seemed to go downhill. She was expected to partake in labor merely to be fed – a bare necessity that all should have, regardless of whether they contributed to the farm or not. Sometimes, the bitter quips she would receive from her former comrades rang in her ears; the harsher of the bunch remarked that "a workhorse is not good for anything if it does not work".

She only ever shook off those remarks when they were directed toward her; no animal on the farm had the right to insult her in such a way! The white horse would boast her ribbons with pride, for her talent was her beauty, rather than being simply another servant on the farm that did nothing more than toil away day-in and day-out. If the other animals wished to constantly perform strenuous labor and risk their lives in battle, then that was their decision, but she would not join them any longer.

Vivid, almost lifelike memories flashed through the horse's mind of the recent skirmish that broke out between the animals of the farm and the humans that formerly controlled it – immediately causing her to recoil in panic, despite there being no immediate threat. For a moment, even the human hand-feeding the horse sugar lumps grew a visibly concerned expression, but it vanished just as he appeared to have briefly left the gate, leaving the horse alone. Why even reminisce about the battle? After all, she hopefully would not be put through any more of them.

The ribbon-sporting horse utterly despised it when there was no one around to indulge her in the pleasantries of life, and she was already reminded once more of how mundane life had grown after the Rebellion. Many of the other animals – aside from Benjamin, the old donkey – treated it as a never-before-seen dawn, the last hope they had, but the horse herself never saw much wrong with the farm as it was other than Jones' neglectful behavior becoming more prominent.

She had everything figured out – the horse would leave Animal Farm and live a comfortable life in one of the neighboring farms, a human-ran farm. To the mare, the other animals' abhorrence for the humans that did nothing more than care for them had reached a tipping point; if they wished for freedom, they would face the stress that came with it rather than dragging her into it.

The horse shuffled on the field near the gate to make herself comfortable, resting her head on her legs and wrapping her tail around herself as protection from the outside world. She briefly realized a clip on one of her ribbons coming undone and pushed it back into its proper place with her hoof. A shout came from past the gate, causing the horse's ear to twitch.

"Mollie!"

At hearing her own name, Mollie perked up – she had not caught the sound of the publican's voice for a long few minutes. But where had he gone? The horse scanned her environment for any sight of him, before being struck with the revelation that she could not recall which direction he had left.

To her dismay, as Mollie glanced around the open area, she felt as if she was not quite the only one there. However, she did not descry anything of value when she scanned her surroundings – aside from a pair of beady eyes that held her in a glassy gaze -- and she immediately swiveled her head toward the direction of it. She could briefly see its pupils dilate as it realized it had been noticed. The horse's ears flattened; what if she really should not have left the farm and answered Clover, who was always in her business? Who knew the kinds of repulsive creatures that could be out to get her?

After a few more moments had passed, Mollie decided it was not something worth her distress, despite the lingering anxiety she failed to shake. Perhaps the publican would return with more sweets for her, or even more ribbons? -- she was used to scarlet and lavender ribbons worn at separate times, but she always wished she could sport light blue ones. Other animals would inquire as to what good Mollie was if she did not work, but she believed a human could be asked the same if she received no luxuries from them.

Now, a few more minutes had passed, which deeply worried Mollie. When would the publican come back and take her away from whatever was observing her in the depths of the forest? She did not deserve to put up with this; she should be in the neighboring farm, enjoying her sugar lumps and ribbons, finally at peace without the persistent pestering of loyalty and diligence from other animals. But instead, she was trapped in the woods, with no clue where she could feel safe anymore.

This wasn't right. Mollie refused to let herself fall victim to any of the repulsive creatures – no, low-lives – that wished to harm her. Eventually, the mare took advantage of the pit of anger in her stomach to cry out: "I know you're hidden in there, watching me... shall you not come out and reveal yourself? Or at least stop observing and leave me be, please..."

For a heartbeat, Mollie's words appeared to carry no impact, as no response greeted her. However, the creature from atop the tree had proven her wrong, cautiously skulking its way out of the leaves that sheltered it. It was quite an unsightly thing.

"Uncanny" was not a fitting descriptor for it; to Mollie, it was much more eerie than that. From the way it tilted its head at her, to how it simply fixed its eyes on her in an unsettling manner, one word echoed in her mind. Disgraceful.

The creature appeared to be feathered, although the vague sense of familiarity it provided her with told her it was more unkempt than it should be. She could no longer look away from it, but meeting its eyes caused cold prickles to go down her spine – cautiously, she recoiled from the bird.

It occurred to Mollie that the bird was not a complete stranger to her, but she never saw it of any value, at least – not enough to recall who or what it was – but the fog clouding her mind appeared to subside when for the first time, it opened its beak to speak.

"Mollie... Comrade Mollie? I recall you from the farm; why are you in the woods?"

Mollie shook her head at the bird more fiercely than she intended. “You remember me --” Her tone was lighter, almost seeming pleased, but was cut off as it shifted into one more chiding. “Why would that be any of your business – as if you are one to ask when this whole time, you’ve done nothing more than stalk me in a tree.”

In terms of expression, the bird hardly reacted, although Mollie could briefly catch a glimpse of the slight flash of pain in his eyes. “I observe all the happenings in the farm and beyond. Having wings makes the task less arduous, and with the view I have, I can then comprehend the way in which it all aligns.”

The horse, who was still in a bit of shock, was all the more taken aback at that admission. "Does that not seem ridiculous to you? Why don't you mind what goes on in your own life? -- especially with what the farm has become, I see no need for you to partake in others' business."

It was evident that the raven did not know how to respond to the question for a few moments with the pause that caused the air to be just a bit stuffier. Eventually, he spoke: "Well, comrade, there never tends to be much that involves me; that is, with the exception of spreading Sugarcandy Mountain's good word. After all, I'm merely a single raven. When I pass on, just as every animal will, we ascend to the same place – if we were good-natured – and it will cease to matter what we were in life."

Mollie's ear twitched, displeased. "I never asked to hear about this. Would it not be more pleasant to enjoy the animal you are now, rather than looking forward – how terrible – to death?"

This time, the bird immediately quipped back with more passion in his tone. "You're misunderstanding; it's not death I look forward to; it's paradise! No other utopia exists in this bleak world aside from Sugarcandy Mountain, where we as the pitiable, suffering animals we were will finally go to rest -- oh, comrade, you fail to understand the place of bliss it truly is."

Mollie paused. She was at last trying to wrap her head around this outlandish concept. The name the bird was spouting broke itself down into fragments in her mind. Sugar... candy Mountain. Sugar, candy Mountain. Such a place seemed sweet enough, but almost too sweet to exist.

The horse – who had managed to settle down a bit – asked the only question now at the top of her mind, without much rationality behind it. "Are there sugar lumps in Sugarcandy Mountain?" The initial irritation in her tone was fading, replaced with a very clearly puzzled one.

As the feathered creature's eyes immediately lit up, Mollie could not help but wonder what exactly she had gotten herself into. She only gazed in shock and perhaps even a slight bit of awe as the bird – which she now figured was a raven – went on and on about a mountain, of all things. "Why, of course, comrade! It is 'Sugarcandy Mountain' for a reason, is it not? Not only are there sugar lumps, but there are ponds of syrup, licorice grasses, and everything beyond your wildest imagination! They are..." He finally took a moment to pause, "... things you only ever assumed you could dream about, brought to reality – or, well, something more akin to surreality."

Mollie could feel her own eyes widen at that and did nothing to hide it. While she did not know if the raven's ludicrous descriptions were true, and likely would never know, she had never believed such a raven – one she had found repulsive – could have such a rose-colored view of the afterlife, perhaps even life itself. However, she could only truly bring herself to feel baffled.

The raven blinked at her with a bit of astonishment. "Most animals never seem to react as strongly as you do – they only ever dismiss the idea of paradise. But you look as if this is your first time hearing my accounts of the mountain at all. Perhaps you never came to listen – of course, I don't say that to evoke any guilt, comrade, but many act as if they have heard this for the millionth time. You do not. In all honesty, that is quite refreshing."

Mollie only nodded. "I never paid much notice to you or who you were. I never thought I would have to, and even now, I don't need to... but I suppose we both love our sugar lumps!" The horse's tone brightened humorously, and to the raven's surprise, she plucked a ribbon from her own mane and pressed it to his neck. "But who are you, anyway? You really did appear out of nowhere."

The raven could not form any coherent sentence – he was awestruck by the eye-catching scarlet ribbon Mollie had clipped to him. In his life, he had gotten plenty of offerings – from Farmer Jones, before his downward spiral – but had never received anything as gracious as the bow that adorned him now. Eventually, after a moment of admiring it, the bird spoke once more.

"I'm Moses, or at least, it's the name I'm most accustomed to. Did you wish to know anything else about the mountain?... Of course, I would gladly tell you!"

"Well, it is quite an intriguing tale, but it can wait. Soon, the human shall return and bring us sugar lumps; let's hope he has enough for both of us, because I still won't share mine with you."

A sudden sorrowful expression made itself clear in Moses' eyes, and the immediate change puzzled the horse. "What could be the issue? I don't see a problem with that – if you wanted sugar lumps, you could take it upon yourself to persuade some poor human into giving them to you."

"Well, no, comrade, that would be a petty topic to fret over. I did not consider myself one to part from Animal Farm completely, but it seems that no one – aside from a few dedicated animals – truly care to listen to me, to be blunt. I suppose they prioritize work over a comforting tale."

Mollie raised her head in agreement, taking a moment to flaunt the remaining ribbons on her mane. "I understand that. What is the point in a Rebellion if it is merely followed by tedious tasks? Snowball told me there would not even be sugar after the Rebellion. All that hard work for not a single reward?"

Moses appeared to be taking Mollie's words into account, pondering another moment before speaking. "No one is forcing us to remain at Animal Farm. Truly, no one is forcing any animal to remain there – we can come and go as we please."

"Yes... but would it not be preferable for you to live on a neighboring farm where all of your needs are met, where you are cared for? Do you desire a solitary life, Moses?"

At that question, the raven glanced away – and even Mollie could notice as with what the raven had stated earlier, he likely was not one that was used to companionship. After all, he had admitted – day in and day out – to constantly observing those that surrounded him without actively engaging. He was the type of creature foreign to Mollie and her own lifestyle, but at the same time, one that she felt a vague sense of pity toward.

In what felt like the blink of an eye, a few weeks had passed – Moses tended to be nomadic, and did not remain in the same place as often as she did, but they still caught up with one another occasionally. The publican had dropped off Mollie at a neighboring farm, where humans with farming duties would tend to her. For the mare, there was hardly ever a day not filled with sunshine. Oftentimes, the humans would clip her mane and offer her ribbons of various colors while Moses spread his tall tales on the days he returned to the farm she was at. Mollie did not see the need for a change. The days of Animalism had ended, at least for her.

Unexpectedly, just after Moses had told his tales of Sugarcandy Mountain, the raven fluttered his wings and parted from the branch on the tree he had initially been perched on. He appeared to be heading toward the direction of a nearby river, far enough to leave Mollie behind, but close enough to where she still paced after him to catch up -- most of the time, Pilkington failed to recall that the stables needed to be locked, and he was lucky for how relaxed the animals residing at his farm were. It was not rare for Moses to vanish in the dead of night, but just a moment ago, he had been striking up conversations with other animals, so Mollie viewed it as odd he would find it necessary to leave now.

"Where could you possibly need to go this instant? -- I do not have wings, at least wait for me to arrive..."

The face of a pig bounced off the reflection of the water, and scratches – deep ones, at that – covered his pelt. Despite his clear agony, Moses did not approach him, and he only took refuge in the wide leaves of a tree, just as he had done before facing Mollie not long ago. Instantly, the boar was recognizable as Snowball, but what was one so respected doing alone in the forest, left to tend to his own injuries? Did the other animals – for a reason unbeknownst to her – refuse to help him?

For a few more painful steps, Snowball continued to stagger, finally caving and sprawling near the river that lapped against his trotters. His ears twitched, as if he was still alert for danger, but neither Mollie nor Moses saw any lingering threats. Snowball's perseverance was clear to both, how he forced himself to rise, but in the end not even that could push him through as he fell to the ground again.

Such a coward Moses was to not help an animal in need – was what Mollie, who had sheltered herself in a bush, would be hypocritical to believe. She recalled how Snowball had always reprimanded her for the most trivial of behaviors, such as wanting to keep her ribbons in her mane, and remarked that such lovely trinkets were nothing but the "badge of slavery". In her opinion, the true badge of slavery was that Snowball refused to let himself rest despite the pain he was so evidently experiencing. He had become a slave to himself and his own mind.

Neither Mollie nor Moses left their hiding places. But eventually, Mollie concluded that she did not wish to adopt the same behaviors as such an eccentric raven, no – perhaps she would be what Moses could not be and shape herself into the better animal of the two. It was her ribbon that Moses adorned, not his own.

Mollie peered outside the bush that once provided her with shelter and finally faced the former proprietor of the Rebellion.

At first, Snowball's eyes were glazed, not processing that it was Mollie that loomed over him. His eyes flicked toward the mare and back again, before his face curled into what was partially a snarl, but fully a displeased expression. Still, the frail state he was in overwhelmed him, and he could only choke out a "Mollie, fetch me a few leaves from the bush." She hardly noticed that the pig did not refer to her as a 'comrade'.

Despite her lack of respect for Snowball, Mollie did as she was told and plucked a few leaves from the nearby bush. When she hunched over to apply them to Snowball's wounds, he immediately recoiled from the horse. "I thank you for your generosity," the pig's teeth were clenched, and a strong hint of sarcasm could be heard in his tone, "but that will not be necessary. I can tend to my own wounds."

As he did so, Snowball flinched in pain a few times but eventually managed to cover each of his scratches – still being visibly irritable, he bared his teeth at Mollie – and she backed away with an equally irritable expression. All of this caused a certain anxious raven to fly out of the branch he had perched on.

"Oh, you." If Mollie assumed Snowball's irritability could not escalate above what it had been, she was quickly proven wrong. At seeing Snowball's immediate negative reaction toward him, a flash of panic could briefly be discerned in Moses' gaze before fading.

"My condolences regarding your... predicament..." Moses gestured with a wing toward Snowball's leaf-covered wounds, although it was quite clear that the raven was only feigning amicability.

Snowball shook his head. "Your condolences are not required. Not a single genuine word comes from your beak."

As much as the raven attempted to hide it, his own expression was beginning to morph into visible irritation almost matching that of Snowball's. Even Mollie could see where Moses was coming from – who did Snowball think he was to reprimand them as he did, despite them never having wronged him?

After a few minutes of silence had passed, Snowball's ears twitched, presumably beckoning the duo over to him. By this point, the horse and raven were greatly tired of him but had no choice but to listen to what he wished to say.

"Quite clearly, being grouped with both of you is not a favorable outcome, but – if this is what must come to fruition – then, out of my unfortunate desperation, I have a task for you. I doubt either of you indolent animals would care to know why I am not in my initial position at Animal Farm, but I shall inform you anyway."

Though Mollie would never admit it, Snowball was right. She could not care less about the state of Animal Farm – but Moses seemed to contradict his words. He tilted his head, as he usually did when he stared with curiosity, which caused even Snowball to ease up a bit.

"Napoleon is a tyrant," growled the white pig, slamming his trotter on the ground before wincing in pain. "He does not care for the well-being of our --" Snowball hastily corrected himself, " -- my comrades, and I cannot let such impressionable animals be left to the hooves of this false ruler. Believe me, if I was in a better state, this matter would be completely mine. But as I am evidently not, you must prove your worth and assist me --"

Mollie, who had ostensibly released any rational thought, immediately cut Snowball off with clear irritability. "Why would you expect us to carry out your work for you? Moses and I left Animal Farm of our own volition, whereas I would assume Napoleon managed to turn the farm against you. That is unfortunate, but shall it not be considered unfair for those with no involvement to be dragged into this?"

Snowball's lips curled in a snarl. "I have previously stated this matter would be my own, if that was possible, but you fail to understand how dire this situation is. It cannot wait. At the very least, I must have information regarding the direction Napoleon is driving the farm in."

Unexpectedly, Moses offered his input. "Well, I suppose this is something I could do, considering I have experience with being a spy. If I should earn your trust, you may rely on me, Comrade Snowball..."

"Oh, really?" The pig replied with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "Then," Snowball briefly glanced at the sky, taking in the stars and moon that embellished it, "you have until dawn to gather information and report back to me. I merely require general information on Napoleon's plans for the farm, and once I have this, I can then craft spreadsheets on possible methods of preventing those plans. You have a single task, Moses. I ask that you do not disappoint me."

Mollie perceived observable doubt in the corners of Moses' eyes yet still reconsidered – perhaps Moses had some benefit in agreeing – after all, he got to be rid of Snowball for the entire night. Plus, there was no way she could simply return to the farm with the pig on her tail, nagging her to carry out his duties for him. She simply sighed and went to sit beside Moses.

"I take it you are assisting Moses?" Snowball questioned her in a gruff tone, and she only gave a brief nod in response. "Very well, then."

"Unless you two find information that must be reported instantly, I do not wish to see either of you in my sight until dawn. If you do not return, I will assume you are dishonorable and went to your own farm instead of completing the task you were given. Farewell to both of you."

"Moses, I'm not quite sure what you were seeking by agreeing to what Snowball wished for us to do... this cannot be safe, can it? Perhaps they will not mind you. If they see me, however, they will most definitely have a few harsh words..." Mollie slumped over as she trotted along.

"Why not simply leave the spy work for me? That way, you will not need to get involved, and you will not face repercussions from Snowball or the remaining animals on the farm. I do not believe this is something you should have to do – after all, I was the one that agreed in the first place," replied the raven.

"I believed that was already clear. This isn't worth dirtying my hooves over." Mollie's tone shifted into a more self-assured one as she flaunted her ribbons, but it was perhaps her way of concealing her anxiety.

When the two arrived at the farm, Mollie sheltered behind a bush for the primary purpose of ensuring she would not reveal herself to the animals, but also to keep tabs on Moses' whereabouts. It had not been that long since Moses had last seen Animal Farm, merely a few weeks, but waves of familiarity and even nostalgia washed over him, nonetheless – even at his first sight being the animals toiling away. In the early days of Animal Farm, they had worked diligently, but never to this extent... it appeared quite harsh.

Imagery of Sugarcandy Mountain ran through Moses' head for a few seconds to soothe himself, but he eventually went through with his word and glided into Animal Farm. Almost instantly, Minimus, the farm's composer and poet – recalled Moses, and his eyes lit up -- but not in the same way they did back then. He was visibly paranoid.

"Ah, Moses, my dear comrade! You've been gone for quite some time now." Minimus, with his journal in hoof, beckoned him over, taking notice of the scarlet ribbon clipped to his neck. "Oh, how did you acquire this?"

Moses rushed to justify himself. "I realize clothing is against the Commandments – if you'd like, I can remove it --"

Minimus' ear flicked. "My friend, clothing was never against the Commandments; you must be misremembering. Everyone deserves a trinket every now and then as a form of self-expression, do they not?"

Moses thought for a moment. He supposed he was quite scatterbrained, after all – it would not shock him if he really did forget. Yet, something seemed different about the farm in a way he could not pinpoint, with the animals – aside from the pigs, of course – laboring more than usual, and even Minimus himself appeared to him to be a different pig than he was when they had shared tales together.

Minimus sprawled into a comfortable position on the ground. "What made you decide to return, comrade? I should clarify I am ecstatic you did, but this seems – how do I put it – abrupt."

Hastily, Moses struggled to conjure an explanation before one popped into his mind. A blatant lie, at that, but an explanation, nonetheless. "With all the recent traitors in Animal Farm, I find myself growing rather anxious being here, so I took my leave both for the sake of keeping them out and distancing myself from any residents that may be concealing their betrayal."

Minimus' expression oddly grew more understanding after watching Moses stumble over himself to provide any sort of justification. "Indeed. We mustn't let harm fall upon Comrade Napoleon."

"Well, what of Snowball after his exile?" Moses inquired, trying to squeeze as much information as he could out of his former comrade.

"Ah... I realize you may not wish to hear this, Moses, but he had been conspiring with Jones and the neighboring farms. I deeply admired him, so his loss is unfortunate, but his absence will greatly go toward the benefit of Animal Farm now that we do not have a traitor in our midst."

Moses tried to appear solemn. "I understand."

"To be quite honest with you, what you did was very honorable! You are doing your best to keep the traitors out, and if my respect for you wasn't evident already, I hope it is now." Minimus seemed genuine with his words.

The raven's eyes sparkled – he had lied – but the kind words caused his heart to swell with gratitude and pride. He tried to remind himself that what Minimus told him did not truly mean anything, as he arrived with malicious intent, yet... the words he received that should have meant less than the blades of grass beneath him meant the world to him, if Moses were to be honest with himself.

When Moses would glance down at Mollie's ribbon that was now his, what once filled him with joy only filled him with guilt. It belonged to Mollie, not him. Even so, he felt a horrible sense of remorse for wearing it at all; according to Minimus, the Commandment about clothing had never changed, but he still felt wrong about it. But it was the most beautiful thing he had ever received.

Minimus looked to be lost in thought for a moment before speaking. "Why don't I take you to the farmhouse to let the other pigs know about your return, as well as how clever of a spy you were for the farm? I'm certain they could make good use of you!"

"Comrade, I doubt that would go over well, they detest my tales – and me as an animal --"

"They will no longer! You have proven that you can benefit the farm, my friend. I knew I was not wrong by seeing the good inside your soul. You are honest, true, and well-intentioned."

Moses flinched. Perhaps he tried to be well-intentioned, but currently, he was doing the opposite of being honest. Still, he supposed he should play along as to not get himself in any trouble, though he did so for a more self-centered reason he refused to admit to himself.

The composer pig ushered Moses into the farmhouse – was it simply him, or did the pigs appear more formal than they did before – even more human-like. Squealer now sported a monocle, Minimus a beret, and Pinkeye a patchy coat. The most blatant offense was Napoleon, who had a bowtie around his neck.

Just as Moses did.

As he caught sight of Moses, Squealer immediately squinted. He had gained quite a bit of weight, and seeing through his eyes seemed to be a struggle. "Comrade Minimus, why have you brought the raven here?"

"He is here because he has become a loyal comrade! Hearken, the sole purpose of his disappearance over the weeks is due to him looking out for the benefit of Animal Farm, but I shall let Moses speak for himself!"

Embarrassment overwhelmed Moses, and he struggled to find any words to respond with. "All I really did was keep an eye out for the traitors, Snowball and..." He paused with a slight bit of guilt. "Mollie."

"I only trust you because I trust Minimus," remarked Squealer, "but are you aware of their whereabouts? If you see any suspicious activity, you are expected to report it. Always be wary."

"I observed them near the river in the forest --" Moses stopped himself; he was bordering on sharing crucial information... but a part of him wished to go on. "I spoke to them as well. Snowball is plotting against you, Comrade Napoleon --" What was he thinking?

Napoleon tilted his head with clear skepticism. "You have been absent for weeks, and before then, your only reputation on Animal Farm has been spreading false tales and doing no work. Tell me, why would we believe you?"

"I have no expectation that you will believe me, comrade. That is why I'm conversing with you now – to prove my honor."

Suddenly, Moses felt a slight nudge, and Minimus was behind him, pouring a small amount of beer into a glass. Beer reminded Moses a bit of the days before the Rebellion – the days where Jones had not been so neglectful, when he cared more. Hesitantly, Moses took the glass in his wing.

Pinkeye – the pig with a perpetual bad eye, hence the name – turned away from Moses as Minimus slid him Pinkeye's own glass of beer from across the table. "I take it we are letting him stay for now?"

"Of course!" Minimus chirped. "You will see his worth."

Moses stared, glassy-eyed, not at the pigs, not at anything, really. He wondered how he had gotten himself into this. More questionably, he wondered if he even wanted to pull himself out of it. If Minimus could think so highly of him, perhaps the other pigs could, as well. And Moses found that he was not fully opposed to taking that challenge.

Squealer had ingested his own glass of beer a bit too quickly – as well as a few more – and was already slurring his words. Thankfully for Moses, that appeared to make him less skeptical of him. He was chatting the night away with all animals present and treating Moses like a friend. A real friend.

Moses was tempted to speak of Sugarcandy Mountain that night, but he abstained from doing so. He had plenty of time for that with Minimus later; after all, this would not be the only night the raven was "spying". The longer he stayed, the more sentimental he felt toward Animal Farm, and the less control he had over that emotion. He hardly noticed beer splatter on the ribbon he still wore, for the alcohol was too sweet for him to care.

The night became hazy. The raven was seeing double, and the voices of the pigs became muffled. He realized he would have to drag himself back to Mollie, who had certainly left by now, and Snowball. Moses had left the farm with a basket of three apples, though one was coated in somewhat of a bitterness he had repressed for so long.

In the reflection of the river, a horse gazed back at Mollie, but it seemed to be less herself than before. The formerly bright colors of her ribbons were faded, and her mane was matted. This was not her. Yet, she did not do much about it.

When she had observed Moses in the bush, the farmhouse swallowed him up and he never came out – Mollie could not help but feel concern for him in hopes he would return in an at least somewhat decent state – more decent than the mare's current state. It was selfish of Snowball to force his own work onto them; it was selfish of anyone to force their own duties onto another. All most of the animals seemed to perform all day was labor. It was unfair. No one deserved such a fate.

A small silhouette crawled through the slight opening in the bush, and had the leaves not rustled, Mollie may not have noticed Moses' return. He had an odd look in his eyes, but Mollie did not mind; she was only relieved he was alright. How considerate of him to have returned with apples, as well!

Snowball, who had been trying his best to ignore Mollie, audibly groaned at seeing Moses back early. "Well? What did you discover?"

Moses felt a pit in his stomach at what he was about to do. "Napoleon is quite clearly the new head of the farm. Everyone loves him – and the ways of Animalism appear to have changed. Other animals aside from pigs work so much more than they initially did, and the ones that are pigs seem to indulge in a few drinks every now and then." Moses was uncertain of how he managed to keep his composure as the world spun around him.

"That is not at all fair to them," Mollie stated after Moses had finished his drunken tangent. "Why should the pigs get so much freedom?"

"We need our freedom because we pigs need a clear mind to make decisions," retorted Snowball. "I see you have brought gifts for us; is that correct? I suppose we will need sustenance if we expect to survive like this."

The pit in Moses' stomach only felt worse. "Well, yes, comrade." He could not bring himself to say anything more as he passed the apple to Snowball. Despite the raven's poor memory, he recalled which apple it was.

Aside from that of a slight almond scent, it had no odor. The apple was still sweet enough, and Snowball still bit into it, just as he did back when he had power in Animal Farm. For a few long, drawn-out moments, Snowball only thoughtfully chewed the apple with his spreadsheets laid out in front of him, but there was no going back now. A prickle down the raven’s spine caused him to quiver; he had made his decision from the moment he passed the apple onto Snowball.

It was then that the pig began to writhe, instantly realizing what had been done to him. In shock, his eyes narrowed into slits with a mixture of anger and confusion, then dilated in pain – Moses' heart raced faster at seeing what he had done to the pig without a kind word for him. He was no longer an animal, not even a human, but a creature that could do worse.

Panic settled into Mollie's eyes. "What is happening to him? Moses, are you not going to help him?"

"He cannot be helped, comrade... I'm sorry. Please believe me; I truly am!"

Silence, then another long pause, a pause that seemed to last for an eternity.

Mollie possessed a coldness no animal had seen before. "This was deliberate, was it not?"

"No – the pigs devised – they helped..." Moses had no words to lie with. After all, he was never genuine, but perhaps this once, he would be – when he had no other option. Snowball would pass on, either way. "I'm afraid so."

The coldness grew warmer, but not warm in the way the pigs had been to Moses, warm and filled with rage. "Why, Moses? I had assumed I was wrong about you. You wished for all animals to be their best selves; the Mountain you cherish and worship and adore wished for you to be your best self, but you're nothing more than scum. Worthless and repulsive scum. Perhaps you were correct to figure how little you matter – because you are selfish at heart."

Mollie's words were scathing, and struck Moses as a knife to the heart would. His chest tightened – he felt the ache in his stomach as his already spinning world began to spin even more – somehow more than it already did. One by one, Mollie plucked each and every ribbon off herself, but Moses could not bring himself to remove his. It was beautiful and shiny, despite the mess the beer had made of it.

The horse was not a pretty sight. Her mane was matted, with no trinkets to adorn it, and her face held only rage.

The raven, on the other hand, was beautiful. The beer spill had only made his own ribbon glossier, and his feathers were more well-kempt after the farmhouse meeting than they had been. His beady eyes held a striking stare. The sweetness of the beer still lingered on his tongue.