As Clover looked down the hillside her eyes filled with tears. If she could have spoken her thoughts, it would have been to say that this was not what they had aimed at when they had set themselves years ago to work for the overthrow of the human race. These scenes of terror and slaughter were not what they had looked forward to on that night when old Major first stirred them to rebellion. If she herself had had any picture of the future, it had been of a society of animals set free from hunger and the whip, all equal, each working according to his capacity, the strong protecting the weak, as she had protected the lost brood of ducklings with her foreleg on the night of Major's speech. Instead—she did not know why—they had come to a time when no one dared speak his mind, when fierce, growling dogs roamed everywhere, and when you had to watch your comrades torn to pieces after confessing to shocking crimes. There was no thought of rebellion or disobedience in her mind. She knew that, even as things were, they were far better off than they had been in the days of Jones, and that before all else it was needful to prevent the return of the human beings. Whatever happened she would remain faithful, work hard, carry out the orders that were given to her, and accept the leadership of Napoleon.

Answer 1

Clover's reflections cut deeply as she surveyed the landscape marred by the chaos unleashed by the very revolution they had fought so hard to realize. This was not the utopia she envisioned or the harmonious farm that had been promised. Instead of unity and equality, the farm was drenched in fear and oppression, ruled by those who had once promised liberation. The strong, instead of protecting the weak, had become oppressors themselves, embodying the vicious cycle of power that Old Major had cautioned them against.

Memories of working alongside her fellow animals flashed through her mind, filled with hope and dreams of a better future. Yet now, all she could see were the consequences of ambition corrupted by power—dogs patrolling the perimeter, guarding the interests of those who had risen to dominance. The crime of dissent became a death sentence, and loyalty was demanded through intimidation.

Though she recognized the stark reality that their current situation was far better than the days under Mr. Jones, Clover struggled internally with the heavy toll of compliance. The ideals of freedom, equality, and fraternity had been twisted and perverted beyond recognition, and her heart ached for the camaraderie that had been lost. Yet, in the face of this turmoil, her resolve remained unwavering. She convinced herself that perhaps another revolution would come, one that might right the ship and restore the vision that Old Major had laid out.

With a heavy heart, she swallowed her doubts and accepted her role, convinced that her diligence could help foster change from within. In her quiet moments, she dreamed of rekindling the spark of rebellion, not to overturn their leaders but to hold them accountable, to fight for the ideals that had been introduced so passionately long ago. But for now, she would tread carefully in this perilous environment, keeping her head down, ever loyal to the cause, while silently nurturing the hope that one day, they would reclaim their dream.