The sun had barely kissed the horizon, and already the squirrel kingdom of Acornia was having a full-blown nut-fueled rave in the middle of the Bestiary Mountain forest.
Flags woven from enchanted leaves waved in the breeze.
Acorn beer—yes, that was a thing—flowed freely from mushroom keg fountains.
Mushrooms, squirrels, gliders, and a few traumatized chipmunks partied like it was their last autumn on Earth.
Tiny hammocks swayed between branches as squirrel soldiers sobbed over lost comrades, toasted their bravery with half-eaten pinecones, and then immediately tried flirting with squirrel medics.
There were candlelit nut vigils, emotional nut hugs, and at least three acorn-based proposals within the first hour.
It was chaos.
It was purification.
It was adorable.
Raven stood at the edge of a mossy knoll, arms crossed, staring at the festival below.
His eyes narrowed in silent contemplation.
"This looks like a Red Bull commercial but for rodents," he muttered.
