The time was summer, deep in September; the leaves on the trees were yellow and orange, the beautiful colors of fire. Nothing could dampen the animals’ mood today. The birds were singing, the deer were prancing, and the bunnies were playing tag in the flower field. In the center of the big meadow, which was lush and green and teeming with life, were two towering, magnificent sycamore trees that could be seen from miles around. The wise owl even said he even saw them from the other side of the forest, while teaching his nestlings to fly.

The trees were special to the animals, if not symbolic to the meadow as well. They were home to so many animals, even if those animals didn’t know it. The birds in the canopies, the squirrels and owls in the multitudes of knotholes in the trunks, the bunnies and deer who slept under the twisting roots, and even the caterpillars and dragonflies seek occasional refuge in their leaves. It was a beautiful sight really, everything so peaceful, calm, and happy. God surely favored this meadow, for the animals felt as safe and warm as ever conceived possible. Nothing bad could ever happen here.

The sun was setting, another day was over. The birds flew to their perches, some with hatchlings squawking their “welcome backs.” The bunnies and the deer scuttled under the roots wound so tight. Squirrels scurried up the tree and inside their homely knotholes, filled with pine needles and leaves for warmth. The buzzing of the insects wings stopped, and all was silent. Night was upon the animals, another slumber awaits.

The animals slept soundly, not a single one woke. This meant that none of them heard the approaching thunderstorm. While they slept, ominous, deep, dark clouds loomed over the meadow for hours, until finally, it began. The wind picked up so immensely, that freshly bloomed leaves were ripped from their branches, and entire branches themselves were torn from their sycamore. But still, the animals slept.

The next thing to happen, the animals were so entirely unprepared for. The vibrations from the CRACK were so intense, that hatchlings were launched out of their nest and plummeted toward the ground. The cries of their mothers were heartbreaking, but they could not move, they were paralyzed with fear. Lightning had stuck the North Tree. Some birds had escaped, and the some deer and bunnies made it out as well. But the mother and father birds had no way of taking their babies with them. The North tree was beginning to fall, and the fire was spreading.

Animals’ cries could be heard throughout the forest. Other animals from outside the meadow broke through the clearing, ready to help the residents of the north tree. Some owls helped the parent birds carry their nest out to safety, the big bucks of the forest helped carry animals out from under the roots. Even the insects were pitching in; they carried the caterpillars off of the leaves and into the flower patch.

Then, the unthinkable happened. While the chaotic scene had been unfolding with the North Tree, the storm regained its power. The wind picked up again, and lightning split the South tree in half. Although many of the animals from the lower parts of the tree had escaped and were out of harm’s way, many of them were trapped, blinded by smoke from the north tree. By now, the animals in the meadow were crying and begging for help. Somehow, someway, maybe God could end this tragedy. The wind had died down a considerable amount now, and the lightning had ceased, but threatening clouds loomed overhead still.

The trees were snapping from the weak conditions. Soon, they would fall. This, the animals could not avoid. Most knew of this, but still, they tried relentlessly to help in some way.

Then, the rain came. The rain was cool and clean, somehow not as threatening as thought to be. It kept the flames at bay, which helped the animals evacuate the ones who could be evacuated.

But eventually, the powerful sycamores toppled over.

With a bone-shattering crash, the animals were homeless, and the meadow was empty.