I wrote a poem recently about the pointlessness of prejudice, especially racism, using a woodland scene to do so. Then I used the idea of my poem to make this story featuring Guilmon. He seemed the ideal character to use here due to his naivety…

Mute: You mean his stupidity!

Me: Shut up! I put a lot of thought and heart into this so please don't mock me for it.

I have a strong believe in equality for all so please respect it…

Mute: She's also aware that squirrels probably don't act like this in reality so please don't criticise her for that! She's using them for symbolism. SYM_BOL_ISM. And it should be pretty easy to guess who or what they represent…if you adore squirrels then perhaps you shouldn't read the fic…and she doesn't own Digimon…

Me: (weak smile) Thanks for being so supportive on this topic Mute…

Mute: You're welcome…just don't expect it to last…

Tranquil waves of golden light bathed the minuet slice of paradise known as the park, as it began its daily assent into the sky. The dancing sunbeams flowed freely where the shadows prohibit them. And 'dancing' along with them was a carefree soul. A carefree soul that forced his clumsy body covered in red, black and white leathery skin, to twirl round madly in a fruitless attempt to capture the oh-so-elusive beams of light.

The child-like dinosaur gave up his antics, laughing gleefully, in order to regain his breath. He lay on the ground for a while and became aware of a nagging thought in the back of his head that refused to let him rest.

Guilmon frowned. Was he hungry? No that wasn't it otherwise his stomach would feel empty and 'talk' to him. And he wasn't bored either. On the contrary the mad dashing around he had just participated in had left with a feeling of deep contentment and inner peace. So what was it?

"Takato!" the Digimon yelled suddenly, eyes widening at an alarming rate. That was it! Takato had told him yesterday that he would arrive later than usual today. That meant he had no one to play with as all the other tamers had gone on holiday to other parts of the world, miraculously smuggling their partners along with them without their family's knowledge. How Kazu had taken Guardromon with him on a cruise around the Mediterranean was anyone's guess and Jeri was going to visit a pen-pal in France. So that left Guilmon with only Takato for companionship. And now Takato was gone.

Guilmon let out an annoyed growl and rolled over onto his stomach disrupting two squirrels from their slumber of acorns and hazelnuts. At once the red reptile's ears perked up in anticipation.

'Ohh, this is going to be fun!'

Squirrels were fun. Those little puffballs of fuzzy grey and russet always proved to be an entertaining challenge while roaming the park. Almost instantaneously the chase was on. The small mammals raced through the leafy boughs above their pursuer's head with the fire-breathing fiend close behind.

They halted, fur bristling. Their tormenter slammed to a stop, puzzled. Then he saw the cause for the delay.

Directly six metres in front of the grey duo was a young red yearling, peacefully gnawing on a battered pine-cone. Sensing an intrusion on his lunch break he raised his head to meet the glares of his graphite-coloured cousins. Three pairs of eyes gazed at each other, hostility clearly marked in each.

Below, Guilmon shuffled uncomfortably. He knew squirrels to be peaceful creatures and now they had suddenly metamorphosed into raging demons. The Digimon felt very uneasy.

'Wish Takatomon was here…'

There was lunging, lashing, clips of fur flying, snarling jaws and two colours interwoven. Neither side knew why they were fighting, they just obeyed the blood in their veins that urged them to fight, that called for them to prove their superiority. An ageless conflict was being put into play once more. All that mattered was the battle and the outcome. All there was was the fight. Nothing existed outside the raging bloodlust…

Guilmon watched in horror as the fighting intensified and the once beautiful fur became waterlogged with blood. Sure, he was a Digimon used to battle having witnessing and participating in many. But most of the time he only fought because he needed to. Some part of him knew there was no need for the mindless bloodbath above his head to take place. There was a some sort reason they were doing this though, he couldn't quite put his ivory-coloured claw on it.

'Why?'

A scream shattered his thoughts and made his blood run cold.

A rag of bedraggled red fur sailed downwards resulting in a thunderous clash of bone and muscle against the hard cold mud.

Guilmon raced over to the now prone body, noting the departure of the grey squirrels. He viewed the sorry sight that had once been a living breathing creature. Even the eyes were ugly, no trace of vitality in them now, filmed over and dull in death. Ants started to crawl over the statue.

A light finally clicked in the dinosaur's head.

'They were different!'

Yes, that was why they were fighting…because they were different colours. That was why the young, red one had been sentenced to death, his crime being no fault of his own. The minority falling before the majority.

Guilmon sighed. The whole thing just felt wrong. He would have to talk to Takato about it later. But first things first…

The child-like dinosaur gently scooped up the dead body into his arms before setting off to find a suitable place to dig a grave.

'Don't understand…'