Chapter 5
The Rooster's Call
Amidst the chaos, a wise old Rooster, known for its cryptic pronouncements, crows insistently. It seems to be trying to communicate something vital to Kito, a message lost in the roar of the flames.
The air, once thick with the scent of woodsmoke and blooming river reeds, now choked with the acrid bite of burning thatch and fear. Kito, his heart a hummingbird trapped in his chest, watched the orange tendrils of fire lick greedily at the village rooftops. Panic, a cold, clammy hand, squeezed his throat. He’d dreamed of adventure, of dashing deeds and daring escapes, but this… this was too real, too terrifying. The Performer, a vibrant splash of crimson and gold against the inferno, was rallying the villagers, his voice a booming counterpoint to the crackling roar. Kito admired him, oh how he admired him, but even the Performer’s dazzling presence seemed small against the monstrous hunger of the blaze.
Then, through the din, a sound cut through the chaos, sharp and insistent. It was the Rooster. Not just any crowing, but a frantic, desperate series of calls, each one a piercing question mark against the backdrop of destruction. The Rooster, a magnificent creature of burnished bronze and midnight black, with eyes like chips of obsidian, stood on the highest point of the stable roof, his comb a defiant scarlet flag. He’d always been an enigma, this old bird. He’d perch on the highest fence posts, observing the village with an unsettling stillness, and when he did speak, it was in riddles that made even the wisest elders scratch their heads.
Kito, despite the tremor in his knees, found himself drawn to the Rooster’s insistent cries. It was as if the bird’s very being was vibrating with an urgent message, a secret that lay buried beneath the panicked shouts and the hiss of flames. He stumbled through the thickening smoke, the heat prickling his skin, his eyes fixed on the Rooster. The Performer, noticing Kito’s movement, called out, "Kito! Stay back! This is no place for children!" But Kito didn't hear him. He was caught in the Rooster's gaze, in the desperate rhythm of his call.
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