“We’re gonna be sooo late..” a small, clearly English feline whimpered. Wilson, the serval, a small member of the cat family with an array of black spots and stripes on tan fur, walked alongside his somewhat new roommate. A black-tailed jackrabbit named Springer, who was more than optimistic. 

“Aw, don’t worry, buddy.” Springer said cheerfully, “The ladies who run the desk are real sweet, I'm sure they won't mind us being a few minutes late.” the sweet young hare stated, his southern accent was the only thing that filled the cool night air. Wilson sighed quietly, his triangular ears twitched at every little noise they picked up. 

The two of them were walking back from a gas station, simply buying a few snacks for an exam Springer had the next day, and walking because neither of them had a car. The dorm they stayed at had a curfew of 8:00pm, for the safety of the students that went to their Community College, the only species co-ed college in the country that wasn’t some big-shot fancy university. Even then, they only did it for their own name. You had to pay to get a room where they only had one classification, and a rather large amount for simply proving how much of a racist twat you are. That was not a title either of the boys were looking for, nor could they pay the extra fee, but they were fortunate enough to only share a room with each other and not some massive group of roommates. Both were responsible, and rarely got in each other’s way, but seeing them together turned a few heads in public. 

Wilson looked up at the dimly-lit sidewalk ahead of them. An almost disturbing sight, like it was straight out of a horror movie. He almost expected some horrible creature from Hell to jump out of the shadows and chase them back down the road. He shook his head, trying to clear the idea from his mind. His night terrors were bad enough, he didn’t want to fuel his subconscious any more than pre-existing anxiety already did. He gripped his left wrist, three stripes leading down the back of his hand from a ring of black fur around his forearm. The markings on his body made odd patterns for a serval, he had many more stripes than most of his kind. He even had two blotches on his sides that lead into several stripes and spots and mimicked the feathers of wings. Few people knew about it, Springer was the only one outside of his family that had seen them.  

Springer, the overly optimistic texas hare glanced over at his friend, his brow frowning. He would have said something, but he was never good at cheering people up, interestingly, so he just kept on walking. The sound of their footsteps was faint, yet defining against the silent streets. Though he was a black-tailed jackrabbit, he only had a thin, singular stripe that went from the tip of his tail to the midpoint of his back, ending right between his shoulder blades right up his spine. The tips of his ears also ended in black, that being a defining feature of the breed, but the oddly opaque base color of his fur is what got people’s attention. Instead of the usual cream or sandy color, Springer’s coat was a bright gold that even seemed to shimmer in the light. That was how people identified him, most never bothering with his name. “Go talk to the golden hare from the tech class” or “Find the golden hare from 07, he’ll show you.” were a few phrases he’d heard during highschool. Even after they get to know him, he’s still known as ‘the golden hare’. Springer didn’t really mind this, so long as it got people to know how to find him, and it wasn’t a very good insult, so he didn’t care. 

“Hey, maybe we can order some dinner tonight!” Springer chirped, “Whadoya’ think, Chinese or Mexican?” 

“Oh, I dunno… You decide.” Wilson’s reply was barely a whisper, but having large ears was rather handy when talking to a quiet speaker. 

“Aw, c’mon man. I decide every night, don’t you ever crave something specific?” he playfully elbowed the feline, getting a fake smile in return. 

“No, not really. I just…eat what I can. The food in this town has gotten worse recently, have you noticed that?” 

“Yeah… well I guess we can get- WOAH!!” they were both shoved forward by a force of hot air and an explosion. Wilson’s hands shot forward to protect his face, Springer hitting the ground with his shoulder and a thud as his body skid across the road. Both his shoulder and Wilson’s paws suffered light road rash, being protected by both clothing and fur, both of them got back up and scampered a ways away from the explosion. They stopped and turned back about fifty feet from the fire, the heat still apparent. An old shed had combusted, shooting out bits of fire and burning debris out into the street, turning the crimson gold of the street lamps into a bright, fiery orange glow. The boys stood in awe at the bonfire before them, Springer hoped nothing else was close enough to also catch fire. A minute passed and sirens echoed through the street, no doubt responding to the defining sound of the explosion. Wilson took off sprinting towards the dorm that couldn’t have been a few hundred meters away, Springer following him hastily. Wilson had no idea why he ran, but he didn’t question his instincts too much. If there was anything his sister could teach him, it’s that approaching sirens was never a good thing. 

---

They made it back to their dorm, slamming the door shut and locking it tight. Springer leaned against the door for support as he tried to catch his breath. They were both good runners, but both of their bodies specialized in speed, not so much endurance. The boys panted and sighed, both of them breaking into a nervous, “we almost died” type of laughter. After a moment, Springer straightened his back and stepped into the kitchen and got them both some water, setting down the bag of snacks on the counter. Wilson made his own way to their shared bedroom and sat on his twin-sized bed, taking off his backpack. Springer entered the room, handed a full glass of water to Wilson, then set his down on the nightstand. 

“Well,” the golden hare started, “how often does that happen, eh? Heh.” the serval faked a smile again, his tired eyes gazed downward. 

“That road’s probably gonna be closed, so ordering food is outta the question…” Springer thought aloud, taking a big sip of ice water to soothe his throat, leaning against the wall.

“That’s fine, I can make do with what we’ve got. I'm not that hungry anyway. Besides, I think we have pasta in the pantry.” the serval responded, “Well, I can get the water boiling.” Wilson said, standing up and stepping into the kitchen. He dug around in the cupboard, pulled out a saucepan and filled it with water. He clicked on the electric stove, then left the kitchen to click on the TV and  wait for the water to boil. Wilson sighed, flicking through the channels, blankly staring at the moving pictures, retaining no information. Springer joined him eventually, leaning over the back of the couch. 

“You like this show?” he asked. 

“What? Oh, no.” Wilson replied, voice strained and tired. He rubbed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Springer asked, sitting down. 

“No,” Wilson grunted, “How’s your shoulder?” 

“What?” 

“Your shoulder. When we fell, you fell on your shoulder.”

“Oh. Yeah, it’s fine. Hardly bleed at all.” The hare rubbed his arm. He knew Wilson had just changed the subject, he did that when someone brought up his health, but Springer never pried. But, maybe it’d be better if he did.

“That’s good.” Wilson murmured. He stood up and made his way to the kitchen, the pot of water beginning to bubble. He stood there and stared at it for a while, Springer poking his head in.
    “You know a watched pot never boils, right?” he remarked. 

“It does if the heat’s high enough.” Wilson replied hollowly, eyes glassy. Springer frowned, then stepped in and opened the refrigerator, retrieving grated cheese and butter. The high-pitched rumble of the dry pasta being poured into the boiling water caused him to look over his shoulder at the serval, who stirred the pot with a wooden spoon. 

“Any minute now…” the small cat muttered rhetorically, “Stay awake, damn you.” he mentally hissed at himself. 

Springer leaned on the doorway, eyes watching the moving pictures on the television, ears listening to the serval in the kitchen. However, there was nothing to listen to. Wilson was completely silent. Springer glanced over his scrapped shoulder at him, the serval standing in the same spot with heavy eyes. 

“Hey,” 

“Hm?” Springer said gently, Wilson replying with a small sound. 

“I can watch the pasta, you go lay down.” the golden hare said.

“You sure?” 

“Yeah. Go find us somethin’ to watch.” Springer said with a gentle smile. 

“Okay…” Wilson muttered, stepping past the hare. He flopped on the couch, remote in hand, clicking right past channels like the News, infomercials, sitcom reruns, and reality shows. Either unnecessary, depressing, or irritating, none of those things were anything of interest. Finally settling for one of those conspiracy documentaries, he exhaled. 

At least the dorm was peaceful. There wasn’t much drama around school, but sometimes the news would come out with a murder, oftentimes the victom being an herbivore. Even if they didn’t have a suspect, a lot of people would jump to the conclusion that it was a carnivore who killed them. Sometimes, it was undefyable, some of the body parts being chewed off. With hundreds of reports a year, tension between classifications grew every day. The “Carnivore Panic Act” was passed and allowed herbivores to attack and even kill a carnivore unwarranted because “they feel threatened” and try it as self defense. The act wasn’t a big thing in Europe, and in fact was eradicated across the country, which Wilson was grateful for. 

Moments later, the golden hare sat down with two bowls of pasta, handing one to the serval. 

    “Thanks.” the cat said, taking it and resting the warm dish in his lap. Springer started eating long before Wilson did, the serval finally lifting the utensil to his mouth after a solid minute. Springer looked away, focusing on the TV. The silence was odd, both of them usually being much more talkative. Springer thought that maybe the explosion just shook him up, as it would, and that once he got a little food in his stomach, he’d settle down. Maybe it was best if they both just went to sleep after supper.  

---

The boys stayed up watching TV and playing a few rounds of war, the card game, until around 9:43 at night, then deciding to get to bed. Wilson lay face-up in his bed, staring up at the ceiling and picking out designs that vaguely resemble either faces or the shape of animals’ heads. He had wrapped the sheets snugly around his waist, the fabric clinging to his fur due to the unusual hot and humid weather. It was September, and supposed to be around 20 degrees celsius, or 70 fahrenheit, but it was over 80. Not that the two of them couldn’t handle a little heat, both being desert animals, but it was making the general public miserable. 

He flipped onto his front, letting out an exhausted, quiet groan. He always had trouble sleeping, and when he did manage to fall asleep, he’d often be rudely awoken by a nightmare, then have to deal with the lingering anxiety, then try to fall back asleep only to hear the screech of the alarm clock. To see him with dark bags under his eyes was common. Combined with his constant squinting due to his light-sensitive eyes being irritated by the blinding LEDs that lined the hallways of the school, he always looked either sad or annoyed. 

He tossed in his bed, then sat up and rubbed his eyes. Wilson reached for his glass, hoping to soothe his pounding headache and burning throat only to find it empty. He sighed, standing up to refill the glass. He hoped he wasn’t getting sick, it was only the second month into the year, and he knew getting sick this early would affect his schedule badly. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly since that night, over four years ago, when his sister was sent to The Isle of The Damned. She even managed to escape and make it back to the mainland, but her time here didn’t last long. 

Wilson filled up his glass, quietly made his way back to the bedroom and set his glass down, then walked to the bathroom where he gargled a hydrogen peroxide/water mix to hopefully kill any virus that would make the next week or so miserable for him. After gargling with water, he sat back down in his bed, took a deep breath and a few sips of water, and lay back down. He found himself staring at the ceiling again, but this time he felt as though he might be able to fall asleep. But, after a few minutes, he realized that this was gonna be a long night.

---

Springer awoke to several hard knocks on the door and a stern voice shouting something. Him still being half asleep, he couldn’t register what was said, but he groggily sat up and made his way to the door. He peeked out the peephole and gasped lightly and hastily opened the door for the two very angry looking men in suits. 

“Uh… howdy. What, uhm, do ya need-” he stammered, his eyes adjusting to the bright hall lights. 

“Springer Bonfield, I am detective Docsone, this is officer Cowel. Do you know anything about that fire down the road?” one of the officers, a gray wolf, asked. He held up his badge, the other figure then holding up his as well. 

“Oh, no, sir. See, my friend and I were just walkin’ by-”

“Who’s your friend?” the officer inquired with an almost disgusted tone. 

“Uh, Wilson. Wilson something, Pomble I think. Why?” he questioned. 

“Pomble?” the other officer, a hawk, asked, “as in Aurora Pomble?” Springer thought for a moment. He knew Wilson had a sister, but was Aurora her name? He wasn’t sure how common that last name was, but there were surely a couple families with the same last name in the country. 

“…maybe?” Springer squeaked. The hawk looked at the wolf, who simply took a deep breath, seemed to process something in his head, then simply ease his gaze. 

“Would you mind if we came inside?” he asked. 

“No, come on in.” Springer stepped to the side, a little nervous, but knowing what rules they were bound to made him feel a little more comfortable. 

“Do you know anything about the old man who owns that shed that blew up?” the wolf asked as Springer closed the door. 

“No, sir.” he simply responded. 

“Nothing at all?” 

“No, sir.” 

“We’ve questioned many witnesses to the event, and almost all of them say they saw a rabbit and a small cat-like figure running away from the scene and straight here. We talked to the lady at the front desk and she pointed us straight to you and your roommate. I'm sure you know it’s rather rare to see a carnivore and an herbivore just bumming around together, especially at night. What were you doing out so late?” the detective asked. 

“We were just gettin’ snacks at the gas station down the road. We don’t have a car, and the bus doesn’t run that late.” Springer responded, sitting down on the couch with his hands in his lap. 

“Why did you go out so late?” the detective questioned. 

“We didn’t, it was still light out when we left. The thing is, we walked right past it the first time around.” the hare chuckled, “You’d think they’d wanna make a gas station obvious, but that’s not the first time I’ve walked past it. If I had a nickel for every time I got lost here, well I-I just might be able to go to a better school, heheh.” the hare chuckled, tugging on his shirt caller, the expressions on the detectives’ faces still stone-cold. He always did this thing where he’d try to be funny when he got nervous, but it usually made things worse. His only saving grace was when his ear twitched to the sound of a yawn behind him, signifying his very sleepy roommate was awake. 

“Hey.” the sleepy cat muttered, rubbing his eyes, hardly noticing the two new faces until he nearly bumped into one of them. 

“Oh, shi-'' he stammered, then bit his tongue. 

“Wilson! Good morning.” Springer coughed, the grin on his face too wide to be genuine. 

“W-What’s going on?” the serval asked, trying to conceal his tail starting to puff up. 

“We just have a few questions about the fire last night. Witnesses say they saw you boys running away from the scene. Why did you run?” Docson asked, examining the cat closely. The last name Pomble was rare enough, let alone another serval with it, in such a small town nonetheless. 

    “Well- we had to! It scared the life out of us, and we heard sirens. It was a fire.” Wilson said, though, the more he thought about it, it would make them seem more guilty.

“Small cats are uncommon in this part of the world, do you happen to be related to Aurora Pomble?” The hawk took two steps forward and stared down at him. 

“Uhm, I don’t see how that’s relevant.” Springer piped up. 

“Aurora Pomble, a serval, tried for arson, but escaped. She was last seen with a male serval thought to be her little brother, then they both disappeared.” 

“Cowl, that is NOT relevant! And frankly not professional.” Docson scolded, “I’m sorry for wasting your time, we’ll be going now.” the detective apologized, Springer waved at him. He bumped Cowl in the shoulder, glaring at him. 

“Get in the car.” he ordered quietly, Cowl glancing back at the boys before following the wolf out the door. Wilson turned to look back at Springer, who shrugged. 

“Well, that was… something.” he scratched the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, you could say that again.” Wilson replied. Springer looked at the clock.

“We still have an hour, we can go back to bed.” the golden hare suggested, but Wilson shook his head. 

“I’m not going back to sleep now…” he murmured. 

“Yeah, I should probably study a ‘lil more anyway. Mind helpin’ me with flashcards?” 

“Sure.” 

---

   Springer groaned as he walked through the door, leaning on it as he closed it for purely dramatic effect. He wasn’t even sure if Wilson was back yet, but at least it was his day off from work. He stumbled into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out some leftover pasta from last night. He served himself, then stuck the bowl in the microwave for thirty seconds at a time until the food was hot enough. He always liked it with a little extra cheese, so that’s exactly what he added. 

   He took his bowl and sat on the couch, flicking on the TV and waiting through the commercials. His ear twitched at the sound of the door unlocking, it must have been an early let-out.  

    “Howdy.” Springer called.

    “Hey. Hey,” Wilson started, “can we talk about what happened this morning?” 

    “What? The cops?” Springer asked, mouth full of pasta, not fully paying attention. 

    “No, the chipmunk in the broom closet- YES the cops!” Wilson pinned his ears. 

    “Okay! Dude, what is it?” The hare flicked off the TV, but refused to put his food down. 

    “Doesn’t it worry you that people think we did that?” he pleaded, “And… that one cop brought up my sister.” The serval sat down next to Springer. 

    “Oh, so, Aurora is your sister?” Springe asked, Wilson confirmed by nodding. 

    “I don’t know exactly what she did, all I know is it involved fire. I think they think we’re harboring her.” 

    “Well, that oughta be fairly easy to prove. Where is she now?” Springer tapped his foot on the table and forked more pasta into his mouth.

    “…she’s dead.” Wilson choked. Springer halted his foot and chewing, prematurely swallowing his mouthful. 

    “Oh. Well, at least we can prove we’re not harboring her.” he stated, Wilson subtly nodded. 

    “Aw, c’mon. I’m sure they know we’re innocent. They’re trained to read body language ‘n crap. I’m sure we’ll be-” three hard knocks interrupted him. The boys looked at each other, then over their shoulders at the door. Wilson swallowed hard while Springer got up to answer it. He peeked through the peephole and stiffened, opening the door to the same faces he met this morning. 

    “Uh, h-h-howdy-” 

    “Search warrant, step aside please.” the wolf ordered as they let themselves in, holding up a document. There were more of them this time, two of the canines having “SNIFFER K9” badges on their uniforms. One went into the kitchen, one went straight to the bedrooms and closets. 

    “Officer, what’s this about?” Springer asked in as non-threatening a tone as he could. 

    “When we were in here earlier, I caught a whiff of-” 

    “Sarge!” one of the K9s called from the kitchen, holding up a medium-sized box of explosives. 

    “-gunpowder.” Docson finished, stepping over to the K9. 

    “Where did you find that?” Springer whimpered, the K9 pointed at the cabinet to the far corner. 

    “Sir, there’s gotta be some misunderstanding, there was never any explosives in there. I-I just looked this morning!” Springer pleaded, the other K9 knocked on the wall and got Docson’s attention. 

    “I found catnip in one of the end tables.” She held up the little baggie full of dry leaves. 

    “Hey! I have a prescription for that!” Wilson frantically dug in his pocket for his wallet, then showed them his doctor's card. 

    “There’s a lighter in here, too.” the first K9 called, setting it down and rummaging through the drawers. 

    “Young man,” Docson sighed, “you’re both under arrest for possession of illegal explosives.” 

    “What?” Springer exhaled as the wolf unhooked the handcuffs from his belt and cuffing the young hare, Officer Cowl doing the same with Wilson. 

    “You are under arrest on suspicion of arson and possession of illegal explosives. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence,” Docson resided, Springer protesting, but not fighting because he knew that fighting the arrest would only make things worse. 

    “Officers, there has to be some kind of misunderstanding! I swear to god those weren’t in the drawer this morning!” the young hare pleaded. He knew they weren’t, but then how did they get there? Clearly, they didn’t just grow a pair of legs and decide to live in the pantry, so… had someone planted them? Who? Neither of them really had any enemies, not at the school anyway. But, you needed either a student ID or permission from someone who lived there to get into the dorm buildings. Where do you even go to buy explosives? He did say explosives, not fireworks, right? Even then, fireworks were illegal here, too, and you still couldn’t have those on a school campus. Someone had to have planted them, but Springer couldn’t think of who. He wasn’t popular, but he wasn’t outwardly hated by anyone either. Maybe Wilson had an enemy. Someone who knew his sister, perhaps. But, that still wouldn’t explain how they got into the school. Unless it were a school official, but again, Springer didn’t know anyone who’d hate them this much, especially not a teacher. In fact, most professors and staff liked him. So, a jealous student, perhaps? He did have an athletic past, maybe a rival school, or a jealous teammate. Either way, accusing someone of framing you wasn’t all that effective if you had no idea who it could possibly be. Their only real hope was that either someone else would be found out, or a trail would prove them innocent.