Nothing could spoil this day.
I admit, my sleep schedule's been all over the place lately. But staying up as long as I did, even for a good cause like hanging out with Ozzy, is something I'm paying for now.
Still. Trying to stay more positive. Today's gonna be a good day. I can feel it.
Just gotta believe.
You ever get to that point where you're too awake to sleep any more, but so exhausted you don't wanna face the day? Of course you do, everyone does. Everyone knows what that's like. That's where I am right now. Thankfully I don't have a job to be late for but I also don't have a lot else to distract me, and the few things I should be doing don't seem like a lot of fun in my current state, so I guess I'm just gonna sit up in bed and surf on my phone for a bit.
Ha ha, nevermind. My phone's not getting service for like the third time this week. Guess I'll just take a shower. My wool feels all greasy and matted and a hot shower would be heavenly right now. Admittedly, it might just relax me enough to want to go back to sleep, but that's fine by me. I wouldn't mind a few more hours. A little nap would do me a world of good.
Several minutes of standing at the back of my shower with freezing ankles and hooves I realize the water isn't getting any warmer. Pilot light on the heater must've gone out again. That's fine. No big deal. Nice cold shower first thing in the morning.
In fact, even better than a hot shower. Because by the time it's over, I'm wide awake. My wool's still all tangled because I rushed, but my unheated room feels positively warm by comparison, and I barely even feel my teeth chattering.
Hey, you know what else is great? Those Buggie Nuggies™ I was saving went bad! It's great, because they're bad for me, so really if you think about it this is just the universe trying to keep me healthy. Instead, I'll have a bowl of cereal!
Just kidding, of course. Re-checking my fridge, I see I'm out of milk. Cool! That's cool and good. I'm glad that happened. Awesome.
Plain cereal sounds fine. No, it's great, actually. I wanted that.
My doorknob rattles faintly, which is the local vixen version of a knock, so I wipe the flaky crumbs off my chin and think of how much more I enjoy having great, friendly neighbors who never cause me trouble than I do being able to have even one meal in peace.
I swing the door open with the best smile I can muster for the oily-furred fox standing on my doorstep. "Morning, Charlie."
"Cormo," she nods back, sharply. "Nice outfit."
Oh, right. Forgot to get dressed after that shower. I've just been sitting at the breakfast table in my wet towel.
"I have news," she adds. I'm prepped for sarcasm, but something about her expression cuts through me.
I can feel something heavy in the pit of my stomach. Whatever this is, I can't remember the last time I saw Charlie looking so serious.
Well, maybe I can.
Ignoring the growing dread, I swallow the lump in my throat and push on. "What is it?"
"I got word from the doctor that the treatment has been a success," Charlie explains, straightening up. "Pandora will be able to receive visitors within a few days."
I think my ears just popped.
"What?" I blink, frozen in place. My hoof's still on the doorknob.
"She's okay," Charlie smiles crookedly.
Before I even know it, the vixen's in my hooves. I've picked her up into such a big hug her feet are off the ground, and I'm squeezing her so tight I'm wringing myself out on her sweater. She throws her arms around my neck in return, her chin on my shoulder, and squeezes me tight enough to almost cut off my air.
"God, I'm so relieved," I choke, a shaky grin plastered on my stupid face as I finally set her down.
"Everything looks good," she murmurs, wiping her face with her sleeve. I notice the entire front of her sweater is damp from my own wet wool, but she's taking it in stride. "Further details are forthcoming but once her system's flushed, there may be no long-term effects at all."
"That's the best news we could have hoped for," I sniff. "I was -- fuck, I'm just glad she's gonna be okay."
"Looks like we all will."
I run a hoof through my headwool, clutching my towel with the other. "I still can't get over all this. It feels like coming out of some long nightmare."
"I know the feeling," she sighs back, barely audible.
I'm not sure what else to say, but Charlie doesn't look like she intends to stay anyhow. She turns on her heels, her immensely puffy tail swishing behind her, and wrings the damp fabric of her sweater as she heads off.
"I'll keep you posted, Cormo. More good news is likely on the way."
"Yeah. Thanks, Charlie!"
The door closes with a soft click.
Holy shit.
I pace back to the table but like hell I'm gonna be able to sit still right now. I grab a hoofful of dry cereal and shove it into my mouth, chewing loudly as I pace around the bare wood floors of my apartment.
Holy shit.
I lean against my window, staring out over the sunny streets below, and a big grin splits across my crumby face.
I knew it was going to be a good day.
All the earlier cobwebs and grouchiness are long gone, fizzled away like a bad smell in a fresh breeze. That dry cereal was some of the best I've ever had. That cold shower was more energizing than any cup of coffee. And the sleep I missed last night might as well be a distant memory. The sun's out and despite my odd start this morning, I threw some clothes on in a hurry and now I'm practically jogging down towards the commercial row. Me, of all mammals.
There's a few nicer shops there and I don't intend for Charlie to be the only one with a gift in-hand when our mutual tiger friend is ready to see us. Yeah, that's right, I'm gonna be there when those doors open. Not a force in this world could stop me. She was nice to me when I needed it. She helped me find my feet. Hell, as embarrassing as that whole 'presentation' I gave back in the lobby of the Crowns was, I think in the end it might've even helped me build bridges with my neighbors. Definitely helped with a certain aardwolf.
Anneke. Oh, Anneke. There's a sore fucking note right now. I'm in too good a mood to dwell on it, but man.
Okay. Reminder to self: find some way to make it right with her. I'll patch that up. I gotta. I can't exactly live on bad terms with my next-door neighbor if I'm gonna survive here.
Anyway, the gift.
See, I don't know a whole lot about Pandora, and the only material thing I truly know she likes is donuts, which I'm certainly not gonna buy, at least not days in advance. I'm not that stupid. But believe it or not, I'm actually a pretty good gift-shopper, so just gimme a few stores to peruse and I bet I could come outta there with something that'll bring a smile to that big cat's face while she's finishing her recovery.
Hell, maybe I can pick up something for Anneke, too. I mean admittedly I don't have a ton of spending cash, being between jobs and all, but hey, I've had to pinch pennies before. I'll be okay.
So, what do you get a 'thirtysomething porn magnate' who's just getting over 'going savage'? I suppose a greeting card that says "sorry you were targeted by a specist conspiracy theory to grab the seat of power in Zootopia" might seem a little impersonal, so I'll have to be clever. Lucky for me, I've got a knack for being clever.
Thing is, Pandora's for sure the most well-off mammal I know, so I won't be shopping for exclusive quality or anything. No, what I need is something thoughtful, even personal. Something that stands out because of where it comes from, not how much it costs. If I can get her a personalized gift that shows a little compassionate insight, it'll make that much more of a--
"Hey. Hey! You!"
I'm pacing down the sidewalk, eyes absently watching the dry cracks and countless black spots of chewed gum that pass along, when I realize someone's shouting.
"Hey! C'mere!"
They're shouting at me.
I stop in my tracks, glancing up, and peer over at the source of the calls.
In the narrow alley passing between an old brick warehouse and what looks like a row of boarded-up brownstones, there's a handful of mammals. One's waving me over.
And I think I recognize him.
I glance around just to be sure he's talking to me, and, not finding anyone else on the street, shrug and head over. I'm racking my brain trying to figure out where I know this guy from. I don't recognize the others sitting around with him on stained wood pallets and squatting with practiced ease by the walls. Five of 'em total: couple canines of some kind, not wolves, uh, looks like a -- what do you call those wild goats? -- and maybe a wolverine? Fuck I'm bad at recognizing species.
But the guy calling to me is a coyote. Wearing a roughed-up looking business suit all undone around the neck, with no tie.
One of the other canines nods. "That him?"
"Lookit you," the coyote smirks, squinting at me. "I almost thought you got outta town."
"Huh?" I blink.
He chuckles, looking over his shoulder and gesturing to me for his friends, who smile back at me.
Turning back, he cocks his head, clapping his paws on my shoulders. "You recognize me, grazer?"
I squint for a second, searching my memory for some way out of an embarrassing slip, and all of a sudden the memory of two professional-looking mammals in line at the fish taco truck pops into my head.
"Don," I suddenly snap my hooves. "Don the coyote! Yeah! Yeah, you and uh, Dewey? Seen you guys around from time to time? Uh, we met at Neil's truck, a while back."
He grins back, and again gestures at me for his friends. "How 'bout that? He remembers!"
A couple of his friends laugh as well, and the enthusiasm is almost contagious. I didn't realize I was a celebrity around here, but I do remember someone trying to film me when I was trying out those tacos. Herbivores downing real meat like that must be a rare enough sight.
Guess word got out.
"Hey, nice seeing you around. I'm actually--"
"I remember you too," he smiles, gripping my shoulders tighter and giving me a friendly shake. "You're Cormo. You're Remmy Cormo."
I nod, shrugging sheepishly.
He grins wider.
"This is that piece of shit."
His grip on my fluffy shoulders pulls into a tight-fisted clutch and all of a sudden he's hauling me back, all but throwing me down into the alley. I stumble awkwardly just to stay on my hooves.
"Hey, easy, man! I get--" I turn to face him, and suddenly he's a foot away, charging me with an elbow-first shove, knocking me back again. I trip over someone's foot and like that I'm falling, crashing into a pile of old wooden boxes. My back hits a crate at a rough angle and I yelp out in pain.
My heart's pounding and my mouth is suddenly dry and the world's spinning around me and I can't even figure out what's going on. I clutch for a handhold to pull myself up, but just as I start, I feel something on my chest, and look up to see the goat pressing a metal pipe against my attempt to rise and shaking her head 'no'.
Maybe I'll just lie here for a minute longer, then.
"Remmy fuckin' Cormo," Don paces up to me, his paws rapidly clenching and unclenching as he speaks. "Thought you'da left town. You probably should'a. Gone the way of all your fuckin' friends."
"What are you talking about?!" I bleat, and the goat presses the pipe harder against my chest, wagging her hoof at me.
"You got some real fuckin' balls," the coyote growls, pacing around me. "Struttin' around here in broad fuckin' daylight. How the fuck dare you show your fuckin' face."
I gasp for breath. "Don--"
He spins, lurching down to grab me by the wool of my chest, and hauls me to my feet with impressive strength.
"You woolly little freak." He hisses through his teeth at point blank, flecking saliva onto my face. "Fuckin' make-pretend wannabite piece of shit grazer. You made a real fuckin' mistake."
I shake my head, just trying to hold on as everything spins out around me. This doesn't feel real. Nothing does, except maybe the pain in my back.
"Don, I'm--"
The ranting coyote throttles me, yanking me forward and back by my wool so hard I nearly get whiplash, and everything goes dizzy again. With a shove, he sends me stumbling back the way I came. I almost make a break for it in a panic, but some kinda spotted cat I didn't even notice before is blocking the way back to the street. He plants his foot against my fluffy midsection and with a stone-faced frown just kick-shoves me back towards the rest of the group.
Right back to Don.
He's in my face again, and that cheerful expression is long gone. In its place is a face twisted with a kind of anger I'm not sure I've ever seen in my life. Every muscle in his face is tightened, his snout's wrinkled and his lips are pulled back into a fierce, sharp-toothed scowl.
"We open our fuckin' doors for you. You come in here like you're one of us. You're not one of us. You're a fuckin' snake. You're poison. You're shit. You're scum of the fuckin' earth."
I don't even know how to react to that. My jaw hangs open and I blink, wordlessly, as his snout twitches and his bleary eyes narrow.
"It should'a been you," he bristles in a low and chillingly intense tone, slowly building in volume. "It should'a been you. Instead of my buddy in a downtown hospital bed it should'a been you on a slab in the fuckin' morgue!"
He throws me back, and I slam so hard into the wall behind me I hit my head even through my wool padding.
Everything's spinning worse than before, and I can barely keep my eyes on Don as he storms up to me.
"Look, man," I choke between gasps. "I-- I didn't know anything about that, I'm sorry to hear--"
"Take a good look, guys," he shouts, right in my face. "Because this is the piece of shit they let slide."
Over his shoulder, I can see the other canines moving up behind him. The goat circles around behind them, keeping a squinty eye on me, a huge sneer on her face and that metal pipe slung over her shoulder like she's itching to use it.
"Bellwether might'a forgot you, but we didn't."
I think my eardrums just popped.
"...What?" I blink, incredulously, and a deep chill runs up my aching back, right to my throbbing brain. "I'm not-- you think I'm with them?! I'm not a fucking conspirator!"
He leans into my face until I have to pull back just to avoid a headbutt. "You roll into Pack Street right before a 'savage' attack. You got seen following around the mammal who got tagged. You were even there the night it happened. Ground fuckin' zero."
How the fuck does he know I was--
Cliff.
The local gossip. He was there that night. I talked to him. He must've--
"It was chaos, man! Sirens and crowds!" I bleat, shaking my head. "A lot of mammals were there!"
"Yeah," he almost roars, grabbing me. "But just one sheep."
One of his buddies prowls up past him and spits on me. Literally just spits on me -- right on my wool, but misses my face, at least. I'd be pissed, if I wasn't so fucking scared. I keep glancing between Don and his friends, and the end of the alley.
I consider calling for help, but right about now I'm remembering the streets were empty.
I try to swallow, but my throat's dry. My hoof twitches.
"You got it all wrong, man!" I plead. "Just now I was on my way to get Pandora s--"
"You keep her name out your fuckin' mouth!"
The coyote moves suddenly and I flinch away from a sharp heat on my face, like I've just been stung by a bee. All of a sudden I'm staggering away from Don's group. I consider making a run for it, but there's no way I could outrun these guys.
I touch my face and look down. There's a red stain on my fluffy white palm.
Oh, fuck.
Glancing up, I see Don, flanked by his friends, paws flexed to claws and glaring at me with an intense look of pure, disgusted hatred.
"Maybe you didn't hear, grazer, but Bellwether got got." Don sniffs, wiping his face with the back of his dirty black suit sleeve. "Your friends, too. But ZPD missed one, huh? Half-assed it like they always do. Well guess what, cotton-head -- we don't take no fuckin' half measures here."
He takes a single step and suddenly my hoof flies under my shirt, like it's got a mind of its own.
Everyone kinda stops for a second, and some of Don's guys look sideways at him, but he doesn't even flinch.
"He ain't got shit," the coyote murmurs, continuing his approach.
I stumble backwards, fumbling through my wool, and a moment later--
I've got it.
A gift from my Alpha.
I grip the metallic whistle in my hoof and without the faintest hint of hesitation, I bring it to my lips and blow like my life depends on it -- because it very well might.
For a second time, everyone stops in their tracks.
I stop.
My ears are ringing from the most piercing sound I've ever heard in my life.
The sound of silence.
"No," I breathe, clutching the whistle, desperately. "No."
The goat grins, chuckling. "What the fuck was that, cotton-head?"
I stare at it, then quickly bring it back up, blowing again.
And again, nothing.
Oh god.
Oh god.
I'm fucked.
It's broken. It's fucking broken.
Oh, fuck. I should've taken better care of it. Maybe that time I threw it in the drawer?! Fuck!!
I need it and it's fucking broken!!
I try one last time, emptying my lungs into it as hard as I can, but all that comes from the whistle is a quiet, hoarse kind of wheeze.
The goat just bursts out laughing, like it's the funniest thing she's ever seen.
"Holy shit, lookit this fucking clown! Hey, Don, you think he's--"
Sweat pouring from my forehead, I slowly look up to see the goat glancing around at the others in her group.
She turns her head to the side, hefting her improvised weapon. "Hey, what's with you?"
Everyone's got an odd look on their face -- everyone but her. Don, particularly, is glaring strangely. He's biting his lip, ears perked up high, and his tail -- like several of the others -- is fluffed up and bristly.
"You know whose that is," someone says, almost too quiet to hear.
"This piece of shit's not worth my time," Don snarls, spitting on the ground in my direction.
"Yo, what?" The goat blinks, moving up to him.
"He'll get his," Don warns her sternly, holding her back with one arm. "But I got better shit to do than cut my teeth on this sobbing piss-baby."
The others nod, murmuring agreement, while the goat shrugs, looking as lost as I feel. "Don--"
"C'mon," he turns, heading down the alley in the other direction at a brisk pace and snapping his fingers in the air. "Leave the fuckin' traitor to his own shit."
Don and his pals make a hustle towards the opposite street, while the herbivore of their group gives me this last crooked parting look, squinting in genuine confusion.
As for the coyote himself, he pauses at the far end of the short alley to give me one last snarling glare.
"This ain't over, grazer."
And just like that, they're gone.
And I'm standing here with a whistle in my hoof, spit and sweat in my wool, and blood dripping from my snout.
I know I shoulda left. They're gone, but they were here. But right now I'm just trying to get a grip on the world revolving around me. I dunno how long's passed -- no more than a couple minutes, tops -- but I'm sitting on a broken wooden box, staring at the shiny whistle in my red-stained hooves, and all of a sudden the most horrifying noise I've heard all day comes outta nowhere.
Somewhere between a battle cry and a psychotic shriek, the words come ripping through the silence of the empty street.
"COME ON YOU MOTHERFUCKERS, I'LL TAKE YOUR FUCKING EYES OUT! I AIN'T AFRAID OF GOING BACK TO JAIL!"
My whole body tenses up. I nearly fall off the crate in recoil as a fluffed-up aardwolf screaming her head off comes careening around the alley corner like a bat out of hell, punctuating her shrill roar with the nerve-prickling crackle of a hand-held stun gun.
"Anneke?!" I stare wide-eyed up from the trash heap I've practically just fallen back into.
She pants, whipping side to side to look around the empty alley, and cocks her head at me.
"Remmy?"
I just try to breathe. Two scares in one afternoon is about my limit. "Anneke, what the hell-- are-- what? What was that about going back to jail?"
"Sounds scarier. Is--" The aardwolf lowers the zapper slowly, her bristling striped mohawk slowly relaxing. "Are you okay?"
"I mean-- I am now, yeah. I... there were these guys..."
She nervously thumbs across her weapon. "Are they gone? You sure?"
I struggle to stand. My legs feel like putty. "Yeah. Yeah, they-- they left. You have a stun gun?"
"Girl's gotta protect herself," she sniffs, reaching up to brush her mohawk down flat, even as the rest of her fur bristles. She breathes deeply, trying to calm herself down.
"You scared the shit outta me."
"That was the point," she says, still clutching her zapper.
I blink. "What are you doing here?"
"I heard the whistle," Anneke pants, looking almost as shaken as I feel.
My hooves trace the metal grooves of it, much more carefully now. "I thought it was broken."
"It's a pitch-whistle. Used to call it a dogwhistle. I forgot, some mammals can't hear it."
I stare, my tone low and quiet. "But you did."
"Three blows -- absolutely life or death. No one else was around I think, so... I mean. I came running with all I got."
With a deep breath in through her nose, Anneke pockets the device. Faintly, her lip begins to curl, and I see a hint of teeth, now all too familiar. My heart quickens a little as the fresh memory of Don pinning me to the wall flashes through my head.
"...But if I knew it was you, I wouldn'ta bothered."
My snout drips red, but I feel too pathetic to even wipe it with my hoof.
As bad as the cut on my face feels, that might sting worse. I don't have the energy to defend myself. All I can do is hang my head, staring at the sidewalk as it grows blurrier beneath me.
I've been frustrated before, miserable even, but this feeling... it's so much worse. My heart's tight in my chest and the floor's spinning and the sky is coming down, and everything smells like salt. I don't have it in me to clench my hooves, to sniffle my running nose. It's hard to believe there was any optimism in me, just ten minutes ago. Whatever there was is gone. I'm spent. Deflated.
I've never felt so hopeless in my life.
"Do you really hate me that much?" I swallow, wetly.
Weakly, in my peripheral vision, I see Anneke moving strangely, lifting her paws a bit and then dropping them -- more than once, in fact, like she's trying to make some kind of gesture and just failing halfway, rolling her head one way then the other. Something fighting inside her.
Finally she drops her arms to her sides and shakes her head, reluctantly.
"...no," she admits, sighing.
I sniffle, looking up at my neighbor as she takes her turn to stare at the concrete.
"I don't," she grumbles. "I don't-- I mean, I'm not happy with you, but that doesn't mean I want you to get fuckin' jumped or knifed or some shit."
I wipe the blood and snot off my nose, and turning to me, her ears perk up and her eyes widen.
"You're cut," she notices.
"Yeah," I nod dumbly.
She walks up to me quickly, and without meaning to, I flinch. She seems taken aback herself, straightening up like she's just taken real stock of this.
"Who the fuck clawed you?" She peers at me, leaning down to get a better view of my face. "Do you know who it was?"
I nod. "Yeah."
"Hey, all right, c'mon. Remmy, hey. This way, okay?" Anneke gestures, reaching out to gently guide me by my midsection without startling me. "Al would-- or I guess Betty, or Oz-- shit, the whole Pack would put my ass through the wall if I just left you to walk home alone after that. So we're goin' home. Okay?"
"...Yeah."
It's too hot out.
What I wouldn't give for a little cloud cover. Or a better outfit that's not dirty and bloody and sweaty. I feel like everyone I pass is gonna be staring. And fuck, my throat's so dry. I wish I'd had more to drink. My guts are in knots. I should've had something more robust for breakfast than just dry cereal. And as hot as it is, I'm shivering. Wish I'd taken a nice hot shower.
Wish I could take one now.
The sun beats down on me and Anneke while we plod back home. Not that far, but it feels like a million miles right now.
"Me wanting you to not die doesn't mean I forgive you," she mumbles.
"I know."
"I just-- what the fuck, Remmy," she sighs. "After that whole-- presentation you gave in the lobby, I really thought there was something different about you. How the fuck did it come to this?"
Her tone's not angry and accusatory like it was the other day. Instead it's just... sad. Same way I feel right now.
I just sniffle, rubbing my bleary eyes.
"Sorry," she sighs again. "Sorry, I-- I shouldn't be grilling you after you just got fuckin'-- god, I really am sorry."
"It's okay," I cough. "You still got more tact than me."
She strokes a dark paw through her headfur, through the zig-zagged mane that runs down her neck, and shakes her head.
"I'm sorry too."
"Yeah."
"I mean it, Anneke. I know I've hurt you--"
She shakes her head. "Okay, just-- just stop, okay? We don't have to do this right now."
"I never meant to--"
"All right, fine, look." The bristling aardwolf stops ahead of me on the sidewalk, folding her arms over her chest. "You're in no shape for this, right? Okay? And yeah, I appreciate that you're saying sorry. Okay? Happy?"
"I'm not happy while you're still upset," I sniff. "I'm sorry that--"
"Look--" she interjects, frazzled. "Just-- okay? You keep saying that. You keep saying you're sorry. You keep saying that. Why? Huh? Just-- why? Why do you even want to apologize at this point? Is it just because you don't want to be in trouble? Can you not stand the idea of someone who just doesn't like you? Or is this some path of least resistance thing?"
I stare at the sidewalk for a second, wiping my sopping face with my hoof and turning over her question.
It's a good question.
And even through the blurriness of the world around me, some strange little piece of something still pierces through. All I can do is answer. So I take a breath.
"When I-- when there was that big block party. A couple months back? I had basically just moved in. I was grouchy and angry because I just wanted to sleep, but I ended up out in the party anyway. And I stayed. Way longer than I had to. I just kept-- and I-- I saw something."
I glance to her, but she's just waiting for me to continue, so I do.
"I saw something I'd never seen before. I-- I don't know. Everyone was having fun. Everyone was having-- it was-- I-- I don't know. I'd never seen anything like it. It was this-- this other world. It was this other world. Everyone was having so much fun and just getting along so well and everything was good, and it-- I saw this little world you all had, and I--"
I shrug weakly, letting my hooves drop to my sides.
"I wanted to be part of it."
My shoulders slump and I sniff deeply. When I look up at Anneke, she's still standing there with her arms folded, but the fur around her neck's gone all fuzzy.
"Shit, that's..."
She drops her arms too, then, brows arched high, runs a paw through her headfur.
"That's a really good answer," Anneke sighs, shaking her head.
I chuckle reflexively, but it gets stuck in a choke, and I sorta just lamely sniffle out of it.
She nods in the direction of home and, with one paw outstretched, brings me back alongside her to continue the walk.
"Maybe it's more that you want us to be part of your world."
"Huh?"
Anneke glances sideways at me as we walk home, breaking the silence of the last few minutes. "You've been here how many weeks now? And you barely care about us enough to know a thing. You don't want to be part of our world. You just want us to accommodate you."
I stare at the sidewalk, blankly, and keep walking with her.
"You don't even know us. Like -- what's my last name?"
I sniff. "Van der Velde, isn't it?"
She shoots me a surprised look, brows arched, and a second later, slowly nods.
"What's my favorite color?" she asks, tone now much more probing than accusatory.
"Purple?" I cock my head, ears flopping. "You wear a lot of purple, including your swimsuit. And the only time I've ever seen you wear jewelry, it was amethyst, so--"
"What's my favorite food?" The aardwolf squints.
"...sliders?"
Out of nowhere she *laughs* and I nearly jump.
She shakes her head, gently putting her paw around my shoulder and gesturing down the sidewalk. "No, ha. No."
A car passes on the quiet street, rustling loose newspaper into spirals in the air.
"...But that's a nice guess."
I don't know how long passes by the time we reach our shared building. I've never wanted to get inside and back into my apartment so badly.
She speaks up for the first time in several minutes, looking sideways at me with an almost pitying smile.
"Guess you're in it now, Remmy."
I shrug. "It's gonna be okay, right?"
"Yeah," she nods instantly. "We'll take care of it."
We pass Betty's building -- quiet, with no sign of the big black wolf -- and come up towards the steps of the Crowns.
"And to think," she smiles strangely, shaking her head. "None of this ever would've happened if we'd just left you alone like you wanted."
"I never wanted that."
Anneke stops a few steps from the front door, looking over her shoulder with a curious expression.
"I said I did," I continue, shrugging carelessly. "I went on and on saying all I wanted was to be left alone. But every chance I had, I tried to spend it with you guys. Not just at the party, I mean. I didn't call in a noise complaint. I spent my night out there, eating sliders and chips and drinking soda and just... talking with mammals there."
The aardwolf turns to face me completely, so I push on.
"The day I got locked out of my apartment -- the first time we ever met -- if I hated it that much, I could'a gone anywhere. But I stuck around with you guys. Even early on."
She smiles, in spite of herself, glancing at the ground.
"You know that guy who lives on our floor? That wolf who's always carrying a laptop around?"
"Uhhhhh... Phil?" She squints, like she's trying to remember.
I shrug back. "I dunno. That's my point, I mean, I don't even know his name. But that guy, he lives right here and he's not part of the pack. Spoke to him maybe once. My first few weeks here, I didn't even know he existed. That guy -- that's what 'I wanna be left alone' looks like. 'I wanna be left alone' doesn't mingle and share stories. It doesn't hang out in the lobby, and tag along to the gym, and go drifting at parties and eat ABC lollipops."
She tilts her head curiously at me, and I manage a weak chuckle.
"So yeah," I sniff, clutching my shirt in both hooves to wipe my face on it -- which I immediately regret, given the greasy, red streak it leaves. "...you guys can feel free to come bug me any time."
"What the fuck is this," Al rises to his full impressive height, the 'great white wolf' of the Crowns turning to both of us as we enter.
"He got fuckin' jumped," Anneke mutters.
The Alpha comes over to me quickly, planting a heavy paw on my shoulder and tilting his head one way then the other to inspect me, even sniffing at the air. I must look like a fucking mess.
"Remmy. You okay?"
"I'm all right," I nod, quickly. "Just shook up."
He thumbs across my snout with surprising care, inspecting the smear of dried blood on his paw. His eyes narrow and the muscles in his face tighten visibly.
"Who did this." Notably, it's not a question.
"Just some guys," I shrug.
"Remmy." His paw squeezes my shoulder -- firmly, but gently. "That whole 'no snitching' thing you seen on TV, I appreciate what you're going for, that's for cops. You gotta tell me. That's how this gets sorted. That's how this doesn't ever happen again."
I hesitate, glancing at Anneke behind me, and she nods, softly.
"This is what the Pack is for, Remmy. Let me take care of it."
"This guy, Don. He's a, uh--"
"Coyote," Al growls. "Yeah. I know the pack he runs with."
"They're a-- of course they're a pack," I blink. "Makes sense."
"Look. Hey. Remmy." Al gestures upwards with his index finger, and I meet his eyes. "Listen to me, okay? I'm gonna take care of this. You got me?"
I nod slowly.
He pats my shoulder again, more firmly. "This is never gonna happen again. I'm gonna make a hundred percent sure of it."
I nod again.
"You look like hell warmed over," he chuckles, his stern expression finally softening. "Go wash up, get some rest. Take the rest of the day off. Anneke, put him to bed, would'ja?"
"What?!" She scoffs, almost laughing. "Have Betty put him to bed!"
"Betty's not here," Al explains as he would to a child. "Now put the Omega to bed."
"I can put myself to bed," I interject, glaring at both of them.
The aardwolf smiles up smugly at Al, who shrugs and puts his paws up, relenting.
I cough into my fist. "...but I wouldn't mind if Anneke did it."
All of a sudden Al claps his paw to his mouth, wheezing into it, and turns away. Anneke gives me this indignant, scrunchy-faced glare like she's actually really mad but also trying not to laugh anyway.
"You're really fuckin' pushing it, Remmy," she bristles, glaring over her shoulder at the snickering Alpha. "Fuckin'-- come on. I'll get your baby blankie."
Guess I'm taking that nap after all.