The tress all fell one at a time, as if living dominions. There was no hope of redemption. They were all going to fall, whether something interfered or not. For an outsider, watching was the only thing left to do. Boom. Boom. Boom. The sounds of the deaths echoed through the forest as more and more left to their doom. Animals scattered as the breaking trees fell ever closer to their beloved homes. Deer dashed and foxes slinked through the already fallen, attempting to dodge the falling. Run, run, run. It was never simpler than that. No longer where the political divides of the forest important. Deer and wolves ran together. Rabbits and foxes fled side by side, not bothering to worry about the other's presence. Owls flew directly over scattering mice yet never swooped down to disturb them. The distruction was more relevant than the divides. Never had the forest been this way and, until the next event of tumbling trees, it never would be again. For only distruction has the power to bring everyone together.