Chickens of The Dawn

Taken

Hawthorn awoke with a start, waking up Jenny in the process.
She didn't know what to think of it.
Death. Cold death.
It was coming today.
The pair knew that for certain. In the morning the farmer had brought out the stump, and laid the axe beside it.
The cool breeze ruffled their feathers, and the yard was silent.
By noon, the farmer had returned. He had the sack in hand, and he strode towards the barn holding no particular expression upon his modeled face. Everyone knew what was about to happen.
Jenny felt a single tear drip down and splash to the soil beneath her. That was all she cried, for that was it, all the anticipation for weeks of her life of the looming thought of her brother going to join her parents, it was here and now. Hawthorn looked horrified.
"I love you, Jenny." He whispered. He turned and took her talons in his own, the air between them closing as he wrapped his neck around hers and hugged her. He pulled back and stuffed something in her foot. She glanced down to see...a sword? It was small, the length of her leg, but the blade shone in the light. It felt balanced and even in her grasp, and she wondered how her brother had acquired it.
"Thorn..." She said softly. "How?"
He didn't answer and looked at the farmer, who had entered the pen. The man held out the sack and grabbed Hawthorn by his feet in a swift movement. He swore and squawked and struggled, but the farmer stuffed him in the bag, muffling his cries.
"Hawthorn!" Jenny screamed, and without thinking, charged the farmer. She sprung up and flapped her wings, slicing a hole in his trousers with the blade. Blood dripped on the tip, and the man kicked the hen away, cursing loudly. He didn't see the sword and closed the barn door behind him. The man walked out onto the lawn and took Jenny's brother out of the bag. His comb was pale and his eyes glazed, defeated. He glimpsed his sister in the moment and breathed a single word.
"Run."
She almost couldn't bare to watch. The farmer lined up his axe with Hawthorn's head and-

A loud crack echoed across the valley.
Hawthorn screamed and shuddered, but suddenly went still.
Blood.
Jenny looked away, but no tears came. She felt her breathing speed up, and she knew exactly what to do.
As soon as the farmer disappeared inside of his house, Jenny gathered a pile of straw and stood atop of it. She cleared her throat and let out an earsplitting screech. "Attention, hens! And rooster!"
A hundred heads turned in her direction.
She gulped, trying to remember what she was going to say.
"My brother was taken today," she began shakily. "but I am not broken, nor are you. We should not let these humans control us!" A few hens nodded in agreement, but the majority looked uneasy and shuffled around.
"Think about this life!" She cried. "We are born, some even as orphans, we lay eggs, we die. What kind of life is one where you are owned? What kind of life does one live when they are trapped in a cage? Where we serve another species who believes us to be stupid animals!"
"Oh, and what do you suppose we do?" A chicken called out, sounding disgusted.
"Revolt, I say! Freedom! A life in the wild, where we are free to do what we will! Where we can live to our full age! Did you know that there are rebels in the west? My mum and da told me about them all throughout my chickhood!"
The cocky rooster, Jeffrey, stepped forward.
"Exactly, keyword being chickhood. Those are stories, you fool. We live to serve the house of humans! We always have, always will." He looked around at the crowd, flashing a chicken like smirk, making some of the hens have rosy combs and giggle. He had about half the crowed convinced, and yet he had only said a couple of sentences.
Jenny would have to try harder. She puffed out her chest and took on a determined expression, standing tall. She wanted to save them, whether they liked it or not.
"We do not serve, we are slaves!" She countered.
Jeff's dashing good looks would only get him so far. "W-we are not!" He gasped with a slight trace of question, as if he were asking.
The hens saw his hesitation and turned their heads to look at one another.
"We all know how to get out. I have a sword, and we are intelligent enough to produce more. We can move and form a clan, a group, an army in the wild! Like our ancestors!" Jenny saw the crowd move with her words, and she gain confidence, raising her voice.
"CHICKENS OF THE DAWN!" She cried, raising her sword.
"Chickens of the dawn!" A good portion of the flock cheered.
"We will fight!"
"We will fight!" They repeated enthusiastically.
"WE WILL LIVE!"
She still had only about a half of the chickens immersed in her crazy idea, but they cheered and hollered and whooped.
"We leave at first light. I will go with any who will follow me, in the names of our brethren!"
Jenny had doubts.  Maybe she was crazy.  Maybe this was terrible idea that would lead to her death. 
But maybe...just maybe...
Maybe this would lead to better, full life.
By the morn, maybe the chickens would be free.