************

1/12

************

All right, let's do this one last time.

My name is Chenry. I was never bitten by a radioactive spider...

"Ow!" I grunted in pain.

...but I did just get bitten by some hyperreactive animal.

"I'll be taking that," declared a small hooded criminal with a fluffy tail as he leaped over my back, snatching my satchel on the way down. "Catch you later, human!"

"Hey!" I shouted after him as he scurried beyond my reach, hopping over the edge of the restaurant balcony before sliding down a bamboo tree into the thick grove below.

This is the fourth time this week that he's done this—and he's not getting away with it.

"Excuse me," I said, handing a $20 bill to the cheetah waiter to cover my tab. "Keep the change."

Before he could respond, I took a deep breath and quickly exhaled, diving headfirst into the thick bamboo forest below. The pursuit had begun.

Welcome to the story of my life...

Speaking of which, that jump did not go as planned. I landed flat on my stomach with a loud thud, directly onto the metal roof of a moving train.

The hooded mammal chuckled from above. "Too predictable, as always."

I quickly aimed my tranquilizer pistol at him. "Freeze!"

He smiled behind his half-faced mask, taking a cautious step back on the moving train car. "Way ahead of you, pal."

Just then, as we entered Tundratown, the surrounding rainforest environment transformed into a full-on blizzard. The train was engulfed in a thick blanket of mist and snow. Like a ghost in the wind, the hooded mammal disappeared from view. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I felt a swift kick to the face, nearly knocking the wind out of me.

"Didn't see that coming, did you?" the hooded mammal taunted from behind.

Reacting instantly, I executed a sweep kick—probably pulling my hamstring in the process, but it was totally worth it. The little thief fell onto his back as I easily pinned his small body to the train roof. "Neither did you," I quipped.

"Aye, boss! Help me!" he called out desperately. "I've got him distracted! Quick! Now's your chance! Hit 'em' where it hurts!"

"Oh, no you don't," I turned around and aimed my pistol into the blizzard, scanning for any accomplices. But there was no one there. "Wait a minute..."

Without warning, as we entered a tunnel, a thick cluster of icicles struck my head repeatedly. "Argh!" The pain brought me to my knees.

"Oof! That's gonna leave a mark," the hooded mammal said as he backflipped away, landing on his feet. "Guess you didn't know that I work alone? You just fell for the oldest trick in the book!"

"Oh, yeah?" I scoffed, clenching the snow-covered roof of the train to form a snowball. "My turn."

The hooded mammal's eyes widened as I launched a barrage of snowballs at him. He nimbly dodged most, but one grazed his head.

"Hey, no fair!" he exclaimed, struggling to dodge. "You've got bigger paws than I do."

"Just give me my satchel," I demanded.

"Oh, you mean this?" he smirked from behind the mask, tightening his grip on my satchel. "You want it? Come and get it!"

As I readied another snowball, denser and more compact than before, determined to hit the target this time, the train emerged from the chilly tunnel into the scorching heat of Sahara Square. Instantly, the snowball in my hand melted away, leaving me empty-handed.

"Not very seasoned, are you, big guy?" the hooded mammal teased, his tone mocking. "Speaking of which, how's the weather up there?"

Clenching my fists, now wet and useless for snowball-making, I retorted, "Just getting warmed up."

He also took a battle stance, the sly grin never leaving his face. "Looks like we're finally finding our rhythm."

In a swift motion, I kicked up a pile of sand from the train roof, a gust of wind catching it and swirling it toward his face. Instinctively, he shielded himself with his paws and large fluffy tail, which led to his hood being blown off by the desert winds, revealing two sharp, pointy ears.

"Oh, look. Another hooded fox," I remarked sarcastically as I lunged for him. "You guys sure like to keep the 'tricky fox' stereotype going, don't you?"

With another sly grin, the young silver fox dodged my grasp, tail flicking sand in a deft counter. "Actually, I prefer 'resourceful,' but I'll let you stick to the classics if it makes you feel better," he taunted, dancing around my attempts to grab him. "Wouldn't want to disappoint the fan club, now, would we?"

As he sidestepped, he scooped more sand with his tail and flung it at me.

"Argh!" I shielded my eyes, stumbling slightly on the train roof. "With that attitude, you'll never change."

He splayed his paws wide, full of mischief. "Who says we need to change? Being a fox is far too much fun!"

As the train pulled into Savanna Central Station, our wild chase caught the eyes of numerous animal civilians, who watched us in shock and wonder—a large human relentlessly pursuing a crafty silver fox through their busy station.

Who could blame them for their stunned reactions?

Everyone scooted aside as I pursued the young fox up the escalator. He took a sharp left and then a sharp right, scaling up a giraffe citizen's neck without him noticing until he darted toward a bustling area where many hippos, dressed in business suits, were emerging from an underwater tunnel, a unique feature of Zootopia where aquatic animals like hippos traverse between districts. The tunnel entrance was cleverly designed to blend into the cityscape, with lush, water-soaked vegetation adorning its borders, giving it a natural yet urban feel.

"You've got to be kidding me," I facepalmed.

"Bet you can't swim, eh?" the young fox taunted with a carefree wave before diving head-first into the tunnel entrance.

Cracking my neck, I replied, "You're on," and plunged in after him.

The scene inside the tunnel was surreal—a watery thoroughfare where hippos glided past in their suits, some giving us curious glances, clearly not used to seeing such a pursuit. The water was crystal clear, illuminated by lights lining the passage, casting an ethereal glow on everything.

Swimming in the tunnel was technically against Zootopian laws for non-aquatic mammals since it was designed primarily for hippos and polar bears. Besides, it was hazardous without proper training in aquatic breathing techniques, but today was an exception. I was not about to let that fox get away.

Navigating the tunnel felt like a maze. The fox attempted to lose me by darting through various interconnected passageways, but I stayed right on his tail. The chase was intense, our breaths becoming ragged as we maneuvered through the underwater labyrinth.

Finally, we emerged from a service exit that led us underneath the Natural History Museum, coinciding with its grand opening ceremony. Animals of all sorts were gathered, their attention momentarily drawn away by the spectacle of our unexpected arrival.

"Excuse me, coming through," I muttered, weaving through the crowd.

"Make way!" the fox added to the noise.

At the forefront of the gathered crowd, the new assistant mayor, a dignified doe adorned with a ceremonial sash, was poised with an oversized pair of scissors in her hooves, ready to cut the grand red ribbon.

She cleared her throat, oblivious to the chaos brewing at the fringes of the ceremony, and began with grandeur, "Ladies and Gentlemammals, it is with immense pride and great joy that I present to you the cornerstone of cultural heritage and historical discovery in Zootopia—"

Her words were abruptly cut short as the silver fox, sprinting with a mischievous grin, dashed through the ribbon. With a deft swipe of his claw, he sliced it cleanly, preempting the mayor's official act.

"Don't mind us," the fox called out with a wink and a salute as he zoomed past. "Just passing through."

I sighed in embarrassment.

The crowd gasped, a mixture of shock and amusement rippling through the onlookers, before breaking into laughter and applause. Despite the interruption, the assistant mayor adjusted her glasses and managed a bemused smile, remarking to the amused crowd, "Well, I suppose that's one way to inaugurate our museum!"

Not missing a beat, the silver fox didn't waste a moment; he dashed up the museum stairs, and I was hot on his heels. He skillfully backflipped off the balcony, weaving through a display of tribal red foxes, and arctic foxes, and then attempted to disguise himself among a group of silver fox exhibits. I briefly lost sight of him until a drop of water falling from above gave away his position. Glancing up, I spotted him clutching a faux spear from the exhibit.

"There you are," I pointed.

"Chew on this!" he yelled back, tossing the spear right at me.

I barely dodged; the rubber spear bounced off my shoulder.

"Sly fox, dumb human," he taunted, blowing raspberries.

"You might want to rescind that," I called back, my irritation mounting.

"And you might want to stop proving me right," he retorted with a cheeky wink, "Every. Single. Time."

The young fox did a backflip off the museum display, landed smoothly on the marble banister, and slid straight down it before darting through the lobby. He sprinted past a group of cubs, pups, and Junior Ranger Scouts on a school field trip and decided to board their departing school bus. Pulling his hood up to blend in, he casually took a seat next to one of the cubs. Meanwhile, I barely managed to grab onto the back of the bus, clinging for dear life.

As the bus rolled away from the bustling city center, the urban landscape gradually gave way to natural scenery. Storefronts and apartments were replaced by lush vegetation, with tree canopies interlocking overhead and the sound of distant waterfalls filling the air. Vines and flowers encroached upon the road as the cityscape yielded to the vibrant jungle.

From my precarious perch on the bus's exterior, I could see the silver fox inside, striking up a friendly conversation with one of the kids, completely at ease.

"And if you look to your left," he pointed out, playing the part of a mock tour guide, "you'll see what appears to be a giant shaved sloth clinging onto our bus."

"Oh, shut up," I muttered, rolling my eyes in annoyance.

He laughed through the window. "Try not to have too much fun out there," he taunted, his voice muffled by the wind.

He then stuck his paw out the window, and with a swift flick of his claw, sliced through the school's giant paper banner taped to the side of the bus. The banner, covered in an excessive amount of glitter, flapped wildly before slapping me in the face.

"Alright, fun's over," I grumbled, crumpling the torn banner and tossing it aside. "Stop the bus!"

Upon hearing my shout, the bear bus driver slammed on the brakes. Seizing the moment, the young fox popped out the window and grabbed onto a nearby jungle vine, swinging away with a cheeky grin.

"Be honest," he called out with a raspy chuckle as he maneuvered from vine to vine, "am I not the greatest criminal you've ever chased?"

"You're the most talkative, that's for sure," I grunted, following suit and leaping onto the vines.

He flashed a mischievous wink. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Our chase turned into an aerial ballet, with him effortlessly navigating the canopy, light and nimble. In contrast, I found myself grappling with multiple vines to support my weight, sinking lower with each swing as he climbed higher and higher.

"1000-foot fall!" he cheered, clearly enjoying himself amidst the dense jungle canopy.

Just another Monday at the police academy, I mused silently, my resolve hardening.

Irritated by his taunts and overly adventurous spirit, I climbed up the tree as quickly as I could. Little did he know, I'd dealt with far greater heights in my past lives. Timing my jump with precision, I felt the vine vibrate under the strain and leapt, grabbing onto it just below where he was perched.

"Well, I have to admit," he remarked casually, dangling above me. "You're lasting a lot longer against me than most officers would."

"Oh, please. If Judy Hopps were here, you'd be caught in a giant donut by now." I retorted.

His laugh echoed through the leaves as he glanced downward. "Funny you should mention that," he gestured below. "Looks like you might be headed for a donut yourself."

I followed his gaze and my stomach dropped. Below us was a giant donut shop, complete with an enormous donut on the roof, clearly designed as a novelty attraction for elephant-sized patrons. "Oh, shit."

With a sly grin and a small shrug, he unsheathed his claws. "Nice knowing you," and sliced through the vine.

With the vine in my hand, I fell down into the jungle abyss like Balrog from Lord of the Rings. However, what that young fox didn't know was that I, like Balrog, flung the cut jungle vine like a whip as I fell and snagged his fluffy tail at the last minute.

"Oh, snout whiskers!" he exclaimed before it was too late.

We both tumbled downward, seemingly to our deaths, except that I came prepared by deploying my tactical knife into the side of the giant donut to stop our fall. We were now both dangling at the edge of a giant donut attached to the edge of the restaurant, which was also at the edge of a forested cliff.

"Human, whatever you do, do not let go!" the fox pleaded, his voice tinged with panic

"Don't worry, I won't," I tossed him down a pair of handcuffs from my belt.

He caught them with a disappointed expression. "Seriously?"

I nodded firmly.

He sighed, putting them onto his paws.

"Got you." I declared proudly.

The young silver fox rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine, you 'got' me," he conceded mockingly. "Oh Mr. Great and Powerful White Knight of Zootopia," he added with a hint of sarcasm.

"My satchel, please." I requested with my hand extended.

With another sigh, he finally passed it over. "Fine."

After I lowered us to safety, I flipped through the contents of the satchel to ensure it had everything in it.

"Wait, that's it?" The young fox was flabbergasted. "That's all you've got? You really just chased me all over Zootopia for an empty satchel?"

"Not exactly," I pulled a tiny old photograph from a hidden sleeve to look at it. It was one of my favorite memories of all time.

The young fox peeked over my shoulder, rattling in his cuffs. "Wait. Is that... you?"

"Aye, It is," I nodded.

His head tilted slightly as he studied the picture. "You look... different. Like very different."

"It's an old picture," I explained, thinking back on all the crazy and exotic things that have occurred since then. "Back when I was more, well..."

"...Dense?"

I sighed, having to agree. "Yes, dense."

The silver fox smiled warmly as he gazed at the photograph longer. "So, who's that cute girl next to you?"

I couldn't help but smile as well. She was the best thing that's ever happened to me.

Charity Amara Pawts.

The most beautiful, kind, and loving coyote girl in Zootopia. She was, without a doubt, the sweetest creature I've ever met in my life, out of all the universes combined. And believe me, as an interstellar human who's been deployed across countless universes and star systems, I've done my fair share of traveling to attest to that.

The picture I held in my hands was the very first one we took together—a selfie she snapped of us on the night we first met at the ZPD academy party—the night that changed my life forever. My satchel also contained stacks of love notes and letters that she had written me over the past couple of months. I just had to keep them.

Never in a million light-years did I ever imagine myself being with a coyote girl, let alone falling in love with one. It took me a while to finally come to terms with it. Many of my new friends in Zootopia said it took me long enough. But I could only imagine how ridiculous it might've sounded among my fellow human beings. I'd be ostracized for sure. What would my ancestors think of all this? What would mankind think of it in general? Surely, they'd understand. Charity wasn't just a coyote. She was my world. She was everything to me.

"And you almost broke up with her?" the fox asked incredulously. "No offense, Officer, but that sounds like something a complete idiot would do."

"Yes, I know." I humbly admit.

He kept ranting on. "In fact, you'd have to be the dumbest, densest mammal in all of Zootopia," he stated, pausing for a moment to reflect. "Actually, I take that back. You'd have to be the densest, dumbest mammal in the entire world!"

I rolled my eyes at him. "Okay, now you're just exaggerating."

The fox splayed his cuffed paws in disagreement. "Am I, though?"

I thought about it for a moment, then conceded. "I suppose not."

He had a point. I nearly missed out on the greatest opportunity of a lifetime—to be with someone who cares so much about me, despite my tremendous amount of flaws. To be with someone I can proudly call my girlfriend.

I just couldn't see it at the time, for I was too stiff-necked and stubborn to admit the reality of it. It took many dates for me to realize how blessed I truly was to find her - or rather, that she found me. In my defense, though, it's not everyday you find out that an anthropomorphic coyote girl has feelings for you. No amount of military training can ever prepare someone for that.

Arriving outside the police station toward the end of the day, I was exhausted from all the foot chases I had done around the city, especially the relentless pursuit of that fox who had stolen my satchel. I decided to just let him off with a warning. After all, it's less paperwork for me.

Pushing through the heavy doors, I was met with a thunderous "SURPRISE!" from all the animal officers in the lobby. Confetti flew everywhere, shimmering in the overhead lights, and the officers cheered, their faces beaming with excitement.

Perplexed and surprised, I asked, "What's the occasion?"

"Aww, Cherry, it's your birthday!" Charity ran up to me through the crowd of cheering, whistling, and howling officers, her tail wagging with joy as she wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug. "Don't you wanna remember it?"

I couldn't help but smile upon seeing her. It was so good to see everyone here, especially her.

"How'd you know it was my birthday? I've never told anyone my birthday before," I remarked, briefly going into deep thought. "As a matter of fact, I don't even know when my birthday is..."

"Which is why we picked one for you," Charity said, her eyes shining with affection. "Everybody deserves to have their own special day, right?"

I glanced at the large banner overhead that read Happy Birthday, Officer Chenry! in bold, bright letters. It also had various paw and hoof prints in paint around the edges. The amount of effort and thoughtfulness put into the decorations throughout the ZPD lobby touched me deeply. I was nearly speechless. There was even a freshly-baked blueberry cake sitting on the front desk with my name on it with frosting, and, sure enough, Clawhauser eagerly stood close to it.

As the animal officers were mingling and socializing, I gently escorted Charity off to the side. "You did all this?"

She shrugged playfully, her ears twitching with delight. "I had some help. Officer Francine hung the banner and got the other officers to sign it," she gestured behind us. "Officer Hopps's family made you a cake, Officer Wilde, of course, said he'd help 'supervise,' and Chief Bogo gave us permission to—"

"Right, but..." I stopped her mid-sentence. "This was your idea?"

"Of course!" she answered excitedly, wrapping her arm around my waist. "I wasn't gonna let another whole year pass without expressing how blessed we are to have you in our lives. So you better get used to me spoiling you here and there... and not just once a year." she winked.

"Sweetie..." I took in the special moment, trying to hold back the emotions lest I embarrass myself. "Thank you so much." I pulled her in for another big hug since she deserved it. "But I should be thanking you."

She returned the gesture, wrapping her arms tightly. "How about we wait until it's either my birthday or someone else's birthday, okay?" she suggested with a giggle. "This is your special day. Let us do the thanking."

With that, I gratefully nodded in agreement. "I'll take it, then."

She looked up at me with a smile, gently brushing my cheek with her paw. "Now, are you ready for your real birthday present?"

"Present?" I asked in surprise. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"Too late, because I already did," she crossed her arms proudly.

Now I was curious. "What is it?"

"It's a surprise," she winked, leaning in to whisper. "Why don't you come over to my house tonight after work to find out?"

I gave a half smile, "Deal," and winked back. I wasn't sure why I did that but she seemed to like it so I did it anyway. The action signified trust, right?

The beautiful coyote leaned in closer but I recoiled back a bit and smiled again. "Charity, please, nobody here knows that we're dating."

Nick walked by with a smirk, holding a slice of blueberry cake. "Yes, we do."

I playfully rolled my eyes and sighed. "Okay, fine. But on the cheek."

Charity smiled and gave me a quick peck on the cheek before heading out. The animal officers and I still had plenty of work to do at the ZPD station, so we quickly wrapped up the party.
The Bull Pen room buzzed with the usual morning energy as officers shuffled to their seats, ready for Chief Bogo's briefing. I took my place among them, my mind already racing ahead of the day's assignments.

Chief Bogo stepped up to the podium, his stern gaze sweeping the room. "Alright! Everybody sit. I've got three items on the docket. First, we have reports of a wolf gang that broke into a security vault on Outback Island last night. They hacked our jam cams to cover their tracks. Your priority is to find them and bring them in."

An officer raised his paw. "Do we have any leads, Chief?"

Bogo shook his head. "Unfortunately, at this time, we have no idea where they went."

I raised my hand. "Actually, sir, we do. They're in quadrant A113 of western Tundratown."

A murmur of surprise rippled through the room. Judy Hopps turned to me, her ears perked up. "How do you know that?"

"They were on page 482 of my report," I reminded them, glancing around at the officers, my expression a mix of exasperation and amusement. "Doesn't anyone ever read my reports?"

Only Officer Wolfard raised his paw sheepishly. The rest of the officers exchanged awkward glances.

Bogo sighed, rubbing his temples. "Alright then. Our assignments are clear. Hopps, Wilde, you take point on this. The rest of you, follow their lead."

As the officers dispersed to start their day, Nick Wilde sidled up to me, a grin on his face. "You know, furless, you might be too good at this. You're making the rest of us look bad."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Just trying to make everyone's job easier. Maybe next time, you guys will read my reports."

"Right..." the fox rolled his eyes. "Maybe if the first 200 pages weren't so dry, we'd consider reading your extraordinarily detailed novel."

Judy elbowed him. "Oh, come on, Slick. We both know you don't read anything longer than a menu."

Nick shrugged casually. "Hey, I like my stories short and sweet. Just like you, Carrots."

"Oh, shush,"Judy nudged her partner before giving me a fist bump. "Keep it up, Chenry. You're a real asset to the team."

I chuckled as I returned her gesture. "More like an ass sometimes, but thank you."

"Sometimes?" the fox smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"Shut up, Wilde."

The three of us laughed, feeling a warm sense of camaraderie before we headed out for the day to complete our assignments. Aside from the occasional frustrations, it was moments like these that made working for the ZPD worthwhile.

I've come a long way from fighting in intergalactic wars. Even as an insignificant, technologically deprecated, low-ranking super soldier, I was hoping to make a difference somehow—to make this world a better place.

************

2/12

************

Even though I didn't have night vision, a heightened sense of smell, or exceptional hearing like most animal officers, my mathematical prowess and previous military experience proved to be a unique advantage to the ZPD. By leveraging machine learning algorithms I had developed over the last couple of months, I could model crime patterns across the city, forecast criminal activities based on species and socio-demographic data, and establish strategic intervention plans for us to act accordingly.

"Let's see," I muttered to myself, typing rapidly on my laptop, "If I apply a logistic regression model for binary classification and then ensemble it with a support vector machine using a radial basis function kernel, the predictive accuracy should improve. But I might need to regularize the parameters to prevent multicollinearity and overfitting..."

Officer Snarlov, who was assisting me with making paper copies of reports, overheard me and looked perplexed. "What are you talking about?"

"Just trying to work out the basic math," I replied, still focused on my screen.

Snarlov set the papers on my desk and shook his head, still baffled. "Nothing of what you just said sounds 'basic' to me."

"It's all relative," I shrugged, more to myself than to him.

The models I designed enabled the ZPD to anticipate potential crimes accurately, allowing us to take preemptive measures and allocate resources more effectively. While we couldn't arrest someone based on their predicted behavior—primarily due to Zootopian laws that protected animal citizens' rights—we could still enhance our readiness and response strategies. The whole 'Innocent until proven guilty' and 'Punishment coming after the crime' themes strongly upheld by City Hall prevented my algorithms from being fully implemented and enforced across the board. Either way, I didn't mind the restrictions they imposed. I just wanted to help out in any way I could. And my new role as a ZPD Analyst/Officer Hybrid seemed to be paying pretty well so far.

Yet, despite the efficacy of my contributions, it wasn't uncommon to feel inadequate compared to my animal colleagues who relied more on their natural-born physical gifts to get the job done. Even so, they still considered me an integral part of the team—even Chief Bogo managed to crack a smile every now and then to show his appreciation before quickly reverting back to his default frown.

"Commendable work today, Mr. Chenry. But don't let it get to your head. I still expect you here at 0600 sharp."

"Yes, sir." I nodded.

For nearly two years, I've lived among the Zootopians as their one and only human police officer. It's been quite a journey, to say the least. Many friends and enemies have been made along the way. Ever since the climate wall incident with the razorbacks, the city has been safe and sound. Even those same razorbacks, who were once my greatest enemies in Zootopia, are now considered friends. It wasn't easy getting to that point, but it was well worth it. As promised, I visited them on occasion in their private swampland whenever the ZPD was having a slower day. I taught Mr. Tusk's youngest son, future Officer Xero, how to become a cop. He was a good kid and made exceptional progress. Even though his father was a reformed master criminal, he supported Xero in every way he could on this new journey—one that would jumpstart the razorbacks' legacy to become more positive contributors to society. Thus, we signed Xero's papers and made his application to the ZPD Academy official. He'll be in good hands, or paws, I should say.

After a long day at the ZPD, I met Charity back at her treehouse. She apparently had a big birthday surprise for me. This was such a new concept for me, so I had no idea what to expect. As we reached the front porch, she turned to me with a playful smile.

"Alright, close your eyes," she instructed, holding up a blindfold

"What's this about?" I asked, sitting down with hesitation as I felt her gently tie the blindfold around my head. "Are you holding me hostage or something?"

"Only if it means keeping you all to myself," she teased, tying the knot down further and gently swatting my hand away as I tried to reach up. "No peeking."

I chuckled nervously. "So what's this really about?"

"You'll see," she assured. She took my hand and led me carefully outside, her soft paw guiding me across the back porch. The sound of the forest at night filled the air, and I felt a gentle breeze rustling through the trees.

"Okay, you can take it off now," she said excitedly. I could feel her tail wagging.

I removed the blindfold and blinked a few times to adjust to the moonlight. There, standing proudly on the back porch, was a shiny new telescope, gleaming under the bright moon. I stared at it in awe, unable to believe my eyes.

"Wow..." I breathed out, stepping closer to examine it. "This is... this is incredible. I never knew I wanted one of these."

Charity watched me with a delighted smile, her tail still wagging slightly. "I figured you might like it! Since you're always looking up at the night sky whenever we go outside."

I couldn't help but get all excited, running my fingers over the sleek metal and adjusting the lenses. "This is a refractor telescope with an equatorial mount. The lens aperture must be at least 150mm, maybe more. And look at the resolving power – with the right oculars, we could probably get a Dawes limit of less than an arcsecond! The chromatic aberration correction is superb, and I bet we could even resolve binary stars with close separations. And with the motorized tracking system, we can follow celestial objects with high precision!"

Charity giggled, her ears twitching with amusement. "I have no idea what you just said, but I'm so happy you like it!"

A mix of gratitude and concern swept over me. "But sweetie... this must've cost a fortune," I said while fiddling with the settings. "You didn't have to do this."

She shrugged, her eyes filled with affection. "You're worth it, mi amorcito. Besides, I wanted to get you something special, something that would make you happy. After all, it is your first birthday in Zootopia!"

I smiled, overwhelmed by her thoughtfulness. "Thank you so much. This is the best birthday present I could've ever asked for."

She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around me in a warm hug. "Happy birthday, Cherry!"

As I hugged her back, I looked up at the night sky through the telescope, feeling a connection to the cosmos and to the amazing coyote girl in my arms. It was a perfect moment, one that I would cherish forever. Whenever I gazed into her eyes, I saw the universe in its purest, finest, most beautiful form. Even the best telescope in the world couldn't showcase the same beauty I saw within her.

After that night, I brought the telescope with me nearly everywhere I went—even to work sometimes. I'd invite my new furry friends to come stargazing with me. As a former interstellar soldier, I was always fascinated by the stars, especially in a world like Zootopia, where light pollution wasn't an issue. It was fascinating because a planet like Jupiter wasn't the same compared to the one found in my universe. The most notable feature was the Great Red Spot—a massive storm that had been observed for at least 400 years since its first discovery. By the time I came into existence, the Great Red Spot had been fully dissipated. We only had archived images of it. But in the world of Zootopia, it was clearly visible in its full glory, which was also the case for many other celestial bodies.

As I peered through the telescope, the vast expanse of the night sky opened up before me. The stars shimmered like diamonds on black velvet, and the planets hung like glowing orbs. Beside me, Nick Wilde lounged in the police cruiser, his attention glued to his phone as we worked the same night shift together.

"Wow. You see that solar flare?" I asked Nick, my excitement barely contained as I further adjusted the telescope's lenses for better clarity.

"Yep. I see it, buddy," Nick replied, not even glancing up from his screen.

I frowned. "You're not even looking, Nick. You're on your stupid phone."

"Actually, it's called a smartphone," he clarified with a wink. "And what can I say? I'm just a popular fox," he shrugged, his fingers tapping away on the screen. "So what exactly are we looking at?"

"A solar flare," I pointed at the fiery arc through the telescope. "If my math is right, it's about 50,000 kilometers long..."

"Fascinating," Nick said deadpan, sounding anything but fascinated.

"...which is roughly the size of Uranus," I added, still focused on the telescope.

Nick's head snapped up, his eyes wide with mock horror. "My what?"

I sighed, realizing what was being implied. "The planet, Nick. Pay attention."

Nick chuckled, finally putting his phone down. "You know, you should really work on your delivery, Furless. Almost gave me a heart attack."

I shook my head. "Maybe if you spent less time texting and more time stargazing, you'd learn something."

"To each their own," Nick reclined in the seat further. "Just let me know if you spot anything... less personal."

I rolled my eyes in annoyance. At least he lets me stargaze at 3:00 AM instead of pretending to be busy like most ZPD officers.

In all seriousness, this telescope was a wonderful gift. I became nearly addicted to it, so much so that I had to set a daily 20-minute timer for myself. The only things that could pull me away from the telescope were a speeding sloth triggering the radar gun or a cute morning text from Charity.

Speaking of which, I just got a text message from her:

Good Morning, Amor! 🌞 I miss you already! 🐾❤️ Besitos

Yep, that'll do it.

I couldn't help but smile as I started texting her back. Despite my best attempts to hide it, Nick quickly noticed and gave me that classical look of his.

"Damn you, fox," I quietly chuckled under my breath as I finished typing my reply.

Nick, as usual, had a sly smile on his face with half-lidded eyes, obviously proud of himself. "You know, somehow, 'I told you so'... just doesn't quite say it, does it?"

"Whatever..." I said, not wanting to admit that he was right. "Just go back to your phone."

Yet, I couldn't deny it. Charity was perfect in so many ways. I used to think of her as being 'almost' perfect, mainly because she wasn't a human. I tried my best to maintain mankind's traditions that have been around for millennia when it came to relationships—even if that meant not forming any relationship at all. But I was wrong. Her being a coyote was only a small part of what made her so special.

From her tail wagging, ears perking up, nose twitching, and her beautiful canine smile, it was easy to tell what mood she was in. Whenever she was happy, which was quite often, her bodily expressions were the cutest thing. She had such a beautiful spirit and the sweetest personality I had ever witnessed in any living creature. Hence, I called her sweetie.

But our relationship wasn't without its challenges—it wasn't always paved with gold or rainbows. We were different in so many ways: not just different species, but different cultures, different morals, and often different ways of thinking.

For example, there was a time when I thought I found the perfect gift for Charity. It was supposed to be up there with the telescope. I had spent weeks working on her gift, scouring the outskirts of Zootopia for raw, recycled materials and using every bit of ingenuity I had. Perhaps I could've bought the gift instead, but I wanted to do something a bit more unique and customized.

When I handed her the semi-wrapped box, she looked at me with a curious smile. "What's this?" she asked, her tail wagging gently.

"Open it," I urged, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Charity carefully unwrapped the gift, her eyes widening as she saw the strange-looking items inside. She lifted one out of the box, turning it in her paws, examining it from all angles. "What are these?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"They're boots," I explained, pointing to the ones I was wearing. "Like these. I figured they'd keep you protected on our hikes."

Charity's ears twitched with interest. "Boots?" she repeated, clearly unfamiliar with the term. She glanced down at my feet, studying my boots for a moment before looking back at hers. "So, they're kinda like... paw protectors?"

"Basically," I nodded. "You slide them on, lace them up, and they keep you safe from rocks, thorns, and other forms of rough terrain."

She smiled, intrigued by the concept. "You made these for me?"

"Yeah," I nodded, eager to see how they'd look on her. "Try them on."

She smiled and slid her feet into the boots, sitting patiently on the wooden stool as I knelt down to lace them up for her.

"Over time, I'll show you how to tie a few knots," I offered, securing the last knot on her boot. "It's pretty easy once you get the hang of it."

"Sounds good!" she said.

"Alright, try standing up," I instructed, to which she did. "Move around a little, get a feel for them."

But as soon as she took her first few steps, she struggled to find her balance. The boots were a bit stiff for her, and I imagined the feeling something encasing her foot paws was probably foreign to her. But I'm sure it'd help in the long run. This was the first time I had ever seen Charity wear shoes before. I'll admit, they looked a bit off... but I'm sure that's to be expected until the eyes get accustomed to them.

"They look great," she said with a warm, grateful, smile, trying to hide the discomfort in her steps. "You did an amazing job, amor. Really, you did."

"But...?" I asked, trying to see through her emotions.

She hesitated. "It's just... they'll take some getting used to, that's all," she tried to remain optimistic.

But the longer I watched her struggle to walk around her treehouse, even on simple, flat surfaces, it became obvious. Those boots clearly weren't meant for her, and she wasn't meant for them.

I sighed, feeling frustrated with myself. "They're no good then. They're worthless if they're not comfortable," I clenched my fist into a ball. "I should've known better, sweetie. What a waste of time I invested on such an impractical gift... you deserve better..."

"No, no, amor, don't say that," Charity insisted, placing a paw on my arm. "I promise, I'll find a way to make them work. You put so much effort into these, and I appreciate it more than you know."

I wasn't convinced, but I didn't want to push it. "Alright," I said, giving her a half smile. "I just wanted to give you something useful."

She nodded, her expression softening. "I know, baby, I know. And that means the world to me."

I left for work shortly after, unable to shake the feeling that I'd missed the mark with her gift. All I wanted was for her to be happy and comfortable, but it seemed like I'd only managed to give her more of a burden—a paperweight at best.

But when I came back to Charity's place a week later after a business trip, I noticed something strange outside. The boots I had gifted her were sitting on her front porch, but they weren't empty. Lush green plants were growing out of them, their leaves vibrant and healthy. They were green and growing and thriving. I blinked, confused at first, but then a wave of satisfaction swept over me.

Charity appeared in the doorway, walking barefoot as usual, with that same bright smile. "You said you wanted me to put them to good use," she said, coming up beside me. "So I did."

I stared at the boots, now turned into flourishing planters. "Wow. I... didn't expect this," I admitted.

She laughed, a soft, melodic sound that could make anyone's heart lighter. "I told you I'd find a way. I mean, look how pretty they are! Whatever material you used must've been really good for my plants. They've never grown this well before."

"Huh." I couldn't help but chuckle at the situation. "I guess that's one way to use them."

Charity leaned her head against my shoulder, her paw slipping into my hand. "Aww, amor, they're perfect, just like you. Now I can think about you whenever I water them."

I shrugged proudly. "Well, I did make them waterproof too," I remarked, feeling like all my hard work hadn't gone to waste after all.

Despite our differences, Charity always found a way to celebrate them, often in ways I would never have imagined. She never got mad or upset with me—well, at least for the most part.

One of the very few times Charity actually got mad at me was when I shaved my beard without telling her.

"Ugh, Cherry." The coyote facepalmed as she saw me exit the bathroom.

"What?" I asked, wiping my face down with a towel.

"You look like a shaved Lionheart," Charity rolled her eyes and sighed. "Ugh, seriously, why'd you do that?"

I shrugged innocently. "I thought I'd try something new..."

"Something new? Baby, what's wrong with the old you? I think I like the old you a lot better."

"It's just... it seemed like a good idea at the time."

She stepped forward, crossing her arms. "Baby, the next time you want to try something 'new', check with me first, okay?" she spoke sternly yet calmly, placing a paw on my clean-shaven cheek. "You're still handsome and you will always be my baby, but you've already got too little fur on you as it is. Don't shave the little beautiful fur you have."

I glanced back at the mirror again and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Indeed, I did look hideous. Charity was much nicer about it than I ever would've been for myself. Thankfully, human beards in the Stratocracy grew six times faster than a normal human beard. Thus, it didn't take long for it to grow back fully.

Another time Charity got upset with me was whenever I cursed out loud.

"Baby, please don't use that word," she said firmly.

"Why?" I asked her, setting down the wrench as I tried to fix the leaky faucet in her kitchen. "You don't even know what it means."

"Just don't use it, please."

I shrugged. "It's not like we're in a PG movie."

"PG?" she asked.

"Nevermind," I grabbed another tool. "I'm just saying... How do you know it's a bad word if you've never heard of it?"

She rolled her eyes. "Because... it's the way you use it. Your tone and everything that goes along with it. Believe me, I'm not the only one who's becoming more and more familiar with your colorful vocabulary."

I lightly chuckled in amusement. "You know me too well."

She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms. "Promise me you'll try to do better?"

I sighed. "Okay."

As a result, we kept a swear jar for me that probably filled up faster than my savings account, especially on Monday mornings. What started as 25 cents per word had to be increased to $1.00 per word to keep my habit well under control. We raised over $600 within my first month of using it, which helped fund our weekend getaways. But we'd soon need a bigger car since her measly little transport wouldn't comfortably fit a big guy like me.

************

3/12

************

After months of scraping together every penny (and resisting the urge to raid the swear jar), I finally saved up enough money to buy my very first car, the Zooyota Packrunner—predator edition—limited.

"Does it come with leather seats?" I inquired from the jaguar sales mammal.

He glanced up at me from his computer, perplexed. "...I beg your pardon?"

"Leather," I reitereated, "You know, the material that's made from the skin of—Err, nevermind..." I tossed the car catalog to the side, deciding to change the topic a bit. "...Does it come in black?"

The jaguar's confused expression quickly turned into a proud smile. "Why, yes, it does."

I splurged on a few custom modifications to remove the decorative wolf ear spoilers atop the car and requested to fill in the tail holes of the driver's seat with extra padding. After all, I'm a human without a tail (thankfully). If my pants don't need holes, then neither does my driver seat. These customizations not only suited me better but also discouraged anyone else from driving my car too comfortably. The only exceptions were the passenger seats—those were left alone— since I could easily expect to have some animal passengers.

As Jay's car was in the shop, I found myself playing chauffeur, taking his son Joseph to his final year of elementary school while on my way to drop off my girlfriend, Charity, at the Zootopia General Hospital for her nursing shift before I headed to the ZPD for my second job. We all had a big day ahead of us. Charity really enjoyed being what she often called my 'passenger princess' while also being in charge of the music.

"Feet off the dashboard, please," I gently reminded Charity, aiming to keep the new car pristine.

She smirked, then reluctantly lowered her legs. "What, worried about getting a little coyote fur on your shiny new ride?" she quipped with a playful wink.

"Not to mention, those big fluffy tails you guys have," I reminded, glancing over at Charity and then back at Joseph before returning my eyes to the road. "Maybe I need to pick up a couple of lint rollers from Scratch One Dollar today."

"Ha, good luck with that, Cherry," the little black wolf teased from behind. "My mom says our tails are like magic wands—they spread joy and fur everywhere we go. It's inescapable!"

Charity smiled in agreement, crossing her arms as she gave me a sly look. "And besides, what's a little fur compared to all the dirt and mud you drag in from work?"

"Hmm?" I turned to her confused, until I saw dry chunks of wet cement stuck to the bottom of my boots. Shit. It must've been from that foot chase I had with that weasel this morning. Apparently, I didn't hose myself down well enough, and now, the floor mats were ruined and already in need of replacement. "Ah, crap. Not again..."

Joseph could be heard trying hard not to laugh in the background, covering the lower half of his face with his tail. "Not your first time, eh, Cherry?"

Meanwhile, Charity reached over and squeezed my hand with her paw, putting my mind at ease. She then turned up the music to Gazelle's new album so that we could continue enjoying our morning ride together. We passed under a couple of waterfalls, drove through a mist of rainbows, and came face-to-face with a splendid sunrise that stretched across miles of tree canopies. Just another reason to love Zootopia.

As the new song kicked in with an uptown beat, Joseph was having a blast with his head out the window, tongue lolling in the breeze.

"Why do you do that?" I asked, slightly bemused by his canine behavior.

"Because it feels sooo good!" the young black wolf exclaimed, his face lit up with joy. "You should try it."

I raised an eyebrow skeptically. "A little odd if you ask me."

"Only because you haven't tried it yet!" he countered.

"I'll join you," Charity chimed in, rolling down her window to join Joseph in his antics.

Both of them acted silly throughout the ride, tongues out, laughing in the fresh morning air—typical canine behavior. They sure seemed to be enjoying it.

"Hmm," I thought to myself, sticking my head out the window too, only to get slapped in the face by a rogue tree branch. "Ow!"

So much for joining in on the fun. Thankfully, I didn't lose a side-view mirror. Such a trivial concern in an exotic world like Zootopia, especially when compared to military life in my previous world. Back then, I flew gunships with other soldiers as my copilots, constantly fearing our patrols would be shot down. But now, here I was, driving a regular car through Zootopia with a talking coyote girl as my copilot. It was surreal. But Charity wasn't just a copilot. No, she was so much better than that. She was my passenger princess.

Later that day, in a beautiful Zootopian park, Charity and I decided to indulge in some snacks. After purchasing our treats, we found a comfortable bench to sit and enjoy our chosen snacks. I opted for a scoop of creamy vanilla ice cream, while Charity delighted in sipping a refreshing fruit smoothie.

As I was savoring my ice cream, Charity pointed up at me with a gentle smile. "Baby, you've got some chocolate on your face."

Feeling embarrassed, I tried my best to wipe it away using the back of my hand. "Did I get it?"

Charity, playfully shaking her head, replied, "Nope, it's still there."

I made several more attempts to clean my face, growing slightly flustered, using increasing force and friction. "How about now?"

The coyote leaned in closer, her demeanor mischievous, and licked my cheek clean. "Yep, now you're good," she declared in a chirpy tone.

A mix of surprise and amusement washed over me. Did she really just do that? Yet, I couldn't help but chuckle. "That was weird, but kinda cute, so I'll allow it."

Charity giggled at my response, nudging in closer. "I love you, baby."

"Love you too, sweetie," I replied, gently putting my arm around her shoulder. Just like Nick Wilde taught me.

Sometimes I felt like my arm was a tad too heavy on Charity's furry shoulders, but she proudly let it hang on her like a scarf. Physical touch was important to her. Charity's affection radiated throughout the warm park's surroundings and I felt so happy to be with her. She really was the sweetest.

On the topic of sweets...

Later that evening, I started to feel an aching pain in my mouth. A closer inspection revealed that I had a cavity. A big one too. How did that happen? Too many Zootopian sweets, I thought. Sunflower Soda, Carrot Cookies, Pawpsicles, Moose Tracks Ice Cream, you name it. Come to think of it, I haven't had my teeth checked in a long time. My old world had microscopic devices with heat lasers to 'burn away' cavities—an excruciating process, but it got the job done quickly and cleared out any oral impurities and deformities. Unfortunately, such technology wasn't available in a world like Zootopia. Little did I know that this was about to become a growing issue.

"You need to get that checked," Charity urged, clicking her flashlight off as she finished inspecting my teeth.

"Is it really that bad?" I asked as I shifted my jaw side to side to soothe the pain.

The coyote nodded. "It'll get worse if you don't take care of it."

This whole thing felt ridiculous. In my world, animals were the ones with bad teeth, not humans. "I thought you were a nurse, not a dentist."

She rolled her eyes, "Cherry..." and called me out. "I'm serious."

I slowly exhaled. "I'll tough it out."

"Baby, don't be so stubborn," the coyote stopped me with her paw as I tried to head home for the night. "I'll get something scheduled for you."

"Forget it," I gently moved her paw aside. "I'm not gonna let a bunch of animals clean my teeth."

She raised an eyebrow, giving me a bemused look.

I sighed. "...No offense."

"Just let me find someone for you, okay?" she spoke reassuringly. "I think I know some reputable mammals who would be more than happy to help you with—"

"Don't bother," I sternly interrupted her as I stormed out her front door. "It's not gonna happen. Case closed. End of story. Good night."

And just like that, I went home. No way in hell I'd let these Zootopians use their primitive dentistry methods to clean my teeth. No one's putting their paws in my mouth. Hopefully, Charity would forget about it and move on.

The next day, I woke up to her usual cute morning texts without any mention of last night's topic, which was pleasing to see. No more dentist stuff. Yes, I was in pain, but I didn't care. I made myself a seasoned bug meat omelet and munched my way through all the discomfort.

I'm sure I'll get used to it...

The main highway toward downtown Zootopia was clogged with construction, causing a ton of road traffic, so I took the metro to get to work instead. Everything seemed normal so far. Sheep passengers were reading their magazines, lion cubs were giving me funny stares, and a few rodents were hitching a ride on me. Apparently, I've been around the city long enough that they considered my shoulders to be more comfortable than most antlers or tusks from other animal citizens. I didn't mind it; sometimes their little tails got itchy or they'd accidentally drop a few cheese crumbs, but it was considered impolite to ask them to step down, so I just let them do as they pleased.

"Excuse me, Mr. Chenry." a random voice called out.

I looked up from my phone but saw no one standing in front of me.

"Over here." the voice said again.

I glanced over my left shoulder, but no one was there.

"Other side."

I turned to the opposite shoulder, somewhat startled. An older mouse with glasses was standing on my right shoulder.

"What the? Who are you?" I asked.

"So sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he waved his tiny paws apologetically before clearing his throat. "Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Doctor Maximilian Bartholomew Cheddarton Squeakwell."

"That's a mouthful." I remarked.

"Yeah, I'm working on that," the mouse confessed with a nervous chuckle. "But anyway, I'm your dentist. Just a friendly reminder that you have a dental appointment coming up tomorrow."

"Huh?" I raised an eyebrow, realizing Charity didn't forget to make the appointment. "No thanks. I'm good."

"Oh, but you're not," the mouse pinched the tip of his nose. "I can smell your breath from a mile away."

"That's your opinion," I crossed my arms defiantly. "And besides, we're in the subway."

"Nope, he's right," a random armadillo passenger spoke up.

"Shut up." I didn't ask for his opinion.

"Just go to the dentist, dude," a skunk teenager complained from the opposite end of the subway car. "Even I can smell it from here."

"Exaggerate much?" I asked mockingly.

"Nope. My eyes are literally burning right now."

"Don't stand so close, I can smell your breath," a red panda grimaced from behind.

Alright, that settles it. With a more than displeased look, I turned back to the elderly mouse standing on my shoulder.

"Well, Mr. Chenry?" he splayed his tiny paws. "What do you say?"

Damn these animals and their sensitive noses. "Okay, fine." I finally gave in. "I'll go."

As soon as they heard that, the entire subway cart erupted in a round of applause. I gave them the middle finger in response.

With a satisfied nod, the elderly mouse on my shoulder checked the agenda on his phone. "We've actually got an opening for 3:00 pm today, if you're available."

I sighed as the train conductor announced the next stop over the intercom. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

"In the meantime, do us all a favor..." a lady porcupine opened up her purse to pull out a tiny object. "...and please take this mint."

I shook my head in annoyance, rejecting her offer as I stormed out of the train cabin. No one can tell me what to do. But only a few seconds later, I stopped in my tracks and quickly came back for the mint. I popped it into my mouth before exiting the subway car once again. The mint was berry-flavored so I just couldn't resist.

Might as well enjoy one last sweet before getting tortured...

Later that day, I sat uneasily in the oversized dental chair, feeling like a giant among the quaint dental office decor of Zootopia. I could feel the air flowing through the only hole on the bottom backrest of the chair—a hole designed primarily for animal tails; a design I heavily disliked.

The idea that I was about to let a team of mice clean my teeth was, to put it mildly, unsettling. Back in my world, such a scenario would be considered absurd, a joke at best. Yet, here I was, in a world where the impossible seemed to be the norm. What's next? Getting a haircut from a team of squirrels?

My train of thought broke once I heard soft footsteps enter the room.

"Alright, Mr. Chenry, the team is ready for you," chirped the receptionist, a cheerful rabbit with a clipboard nearly as tall as she was.

A group of mice, clad in miniature white coats, approached with an assortment of tiny ladders, bridges, and dental tools.

My eyes widened in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me," I muttered under my breath, watching as the first mouse climbed a ladder to reach my mouth. "You're really going to clean my teeth? All of you?" I asked, eyeing the team of minuscule dentists gathering their equally tiny tools.

"Are you doing alright, sir?" one of them inquired.

I sighed, my apprehension palpable. "It's just... I've never had my teeth cleaned by mice before. This is... pretty new to me... and, quite frankly, bizarre."

Dr. Squeakwell climbed up the stepladder to meet my gaze and smiled. "We understand your concerns, Mr. Chenry. But rest assured, you're in capable paws. Our size allows us to be thorough, meticulous, and efficient at our work."

"If you say so..." I trailed off.

"You'll be just fine, I promise. I've been doing this for over 30 years," the elderly mouse reassured as one of his assistants passed him a long, metal tool with a mirror at the end. "Now, open wide for us, okay? Try not to swallow us whole if you can help it."

As the procedure began, I couldn't help but feel the odd sensation of tiny paws and tools working diligently in my mouth. A series of stepladders and bridges allowed the mice to navigate my teeth with surprising agility. Despite my initial reservations, I found myself marveling at their efficiency.

Dr. Cheddarton adjusted his glasses, peering into my mouth. "Fascinating! Your teeth are so uniform and straight compared to the carnivorous canines we usually see."

His assistant nodded. "Doctor, the enamel here is different—less dense than what we see in predators, yet more resilient than many herbivores."

The dentist continued his inspection. "These wear patterns are interesting. They don't match up with any of the dietary habits of Zootopian animals."

The assistant added, "No continuously growing teeth here. That's quite a relief. Rodent incisors can be a nightmare to maintain!"

I sighed, already feeling a bit self-conscious. "Is there a point to all this?"

Dr. Cheddarton smiled kindly. "Just making observations, Mr. Chenry. Your teeth are quite unique, but we'll take good care of them. Now, about that cavity..."

He went on to explain his findings to his team after taking a few X-rays of my affected back tooth. The mice scurried around the room, gathering tiny instruments I had never seen before, as if they were preparing for a major operation.

"...This is gonna hurt, isn't it?" I assumed.

"Just a little," the mouse replied, making a pinching gesture with his fingers. "More than a tickle but way less than paying your taxes."

With what appeared to be a tiny micro-scalpel, Dr. Cheddarton meticulously removed the decayed portion of my tooth, followed by an air abrasion tool to clean and smooth the cavity walls. A separate crew of mice then applied an etchant gel, rinsed it a few times, and added some bonding agents. Layer by layer, they filled the cavity with composite resin, hardening each layer with a curing light.

"See? Not so bad, is it?" Dr. Squeakwell chirped during a brief pause, his tiny face beaming with pride.

Unable to speak with the tools and arms in my mouth, I simply grunted in acknowledgment. I couldn't wait for this whole ordeal to be over. God knows what these mice were actually doing to my teeth. They could be yanking them out one by one for research purposes for all I knew. I touched my teeth briefly to confirm they were still intact. As the minutes ticked by, the assistants finished polishing the remaining fillings to perfection, ensuring they blended seamlessly. Finally, they rinsed my mouth out with high pressure hoses and provided a fluoride treatment with a strong minty flavor.

"There we go," Dr. Cheddarton announced proudly. "All finished. How does that feel?"

I tested the new filling with my tongue and was pleasantly surprised. "Huh. Not bad," I admitted, my tension gradually eased as I felt significant relief from the cavity pain. It's almost as if the cavity wasn't even there.

"Check it out!" Four of the mice lifted up a handheld mirror for me to see my freshly cleaned dentures. They were white, brilliant, and quite impressive.

I couldn't help but nod in genuine approval. "Wow," I swiveled my head around to get more viewing angles. "That's good. That's better. Wow."

Although I didn't want to admit it, I had developed a grudging respect for these miniature dental professionals. They really outdid themselves. My teeth felt cleaner than they had in ages, a testament to the meticulous care of the mouse dental team despite the quirkiness of the experience.

"Thank you," I expressed my gratitude to them.

Dr. Cheddarton and his team of mice lined up side by side and bowed their heads modestly. "You're welcome, Mr. Chenry! Remember, dental hygiene is important, no matter how big or small," he reminded, his colleagues nodding in agreement. "Take good care of your teeth, and they will take good care of you. Until then, we look forward to seeing you in the next six months!"

As I left the dental office, I chuckled to myself, shaking my head in amazement. Only in Zootopia could a human have his teeth cleaned by a team of mice. It had to be one of the most peculiar yet pleasant experiences I've had this entire week. Let's not do that again.

I guess Charity was right. It wasn't all that bad. And I owed her a big apology.

"How'd it go?" she asked me later that night. She was doing dishes in her kitchen.

I plopped down on her sofa, exhausted from work. "Well, I got tortured, thanks to you. As a matter of fact, the cavity got so much worse after multiple failed surgeries. The doctor says it's practically incurable by now. Thanks a lot."

"You're such a liar," she playfully tossed a wet rag at my face.

I sighed, reclining my head back. "You were right. It wasn't that bad." I slowly exhaled after a long pause. "But still..."

"Still what?" she peaked her head out.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" I asked, referring to today's unexpected dental appointment. "I could've scheduled it myself...."

"No, you wouldn't," she affirmed, rolling her eyes as she exited the kitchen. "And besides, you're my Chair-bear. I know you well enough that you can sometimes be stubborn, moody, and hot-headed..."

"Temperamental?" I added.

"That too," Charity smiled, resting her paws on my shoulders before she started squeezing them. Whatever technique she was using, it sure felt relaxing. Both my body and my teeth received a tremendous amount of relief that day.

I stared momentarily at the ground. "I think I owe you an apology."

She stopped for a second. "For what?" she giggled. "You know I'm just trying to take care of you, right?"

I gave a half suppressed chuckle. "I don't know how you put up with me sometimes."

Charity paused, then replied softly, "That's easy. It's because I love you, silly. Even if you are a pain in the tail sometimes."

And she was right about that. I was a handful—or, in her case, a pawful—at times. Yet, she never gave up on me. She always knew I could improve, which I strived to do daily. It wasn't easy but she was worth it.

************

4/12

************

The next day, the sun shone brightly over Zootopia, casting a warm glow on the bustling streets filled with cheerful mammals. Large parade floats adorned with vibrant flowers and colorful banners rolled by, accompanied by the lively sound of music and laughter. I walked hand in paw with Charity. Her beautiful, fluffy tail was painted in the iconic black and white stripes of a skunk, a striking display of her support for the skunk community at the Skunk Appreciation Parade. She spent most of the morning painting it. As an extrovert, she naturally had lots of gal friends throughout Zootopia—some of which were skunks. Charity beamed with joy, her outgoing nature thriving in the lively crowd. I, on the other hand, was more of an introvert, but I tagged along anyway.

As we strolled alongside the parade floats, a skunk participant recognized me and approached with a friendly grin. "Hey, I remember you from last year! Where's your skunk tail?"

With a reluctant but willing gesture, I turned to reveal a fluffy apparatus clipped to the back of my belt. "It's right here," I declared.

The skunk's eyes widened with surprise and delight. "Hey, you're actually wearing it this time! Heck yeah, dude! That's what I'm talking about!" He pumped his fist proudly in the air as he and his friends cheered loudly from behind. "It's always nice to see a fellow mammal show support for us skunks!"

I brushed the rainbow confetti off my shoulder. "Don't push your luck, kid. It's only for today."

"Hey, that's alright. Nobody's perfect," the skunk replied with a grin. "Even if it's only for today, at least your support doesn't stink... well, you know what I mean."

I managed a small, almost hesitant smile. "Right, well, just doing my part. Try not to mace me if you can help it."

"Relax," the young skunk said casually. "If we really wanted to spray you, we would've done it already."

My eyes shifted awkwardly from side to side.

The young skunk nodded in gratitude before running off to catch up with his friends and family marching ahead. I sighed in relief.

As the other skunk performers and floats moved alongside and around us, Charity leaned into me, resting her head against my arm. "I'm so glad you came with me today. It means a lot."

I looked down at her, my expression softening. "Anything for you, sweetie. But please... let's just keep this as a biannual thing."

Charity smiled slyly. "Oh, so you mean like twice a year? Sure. We can make that happen."

"Oh, no, no." I raised my hands up, shaking my head. "I mean every two years. At least. Maybe more."

Charity giggled, her tail swaying playfully. "Oh, love. We'll see about that. I'm sure I'll find another way to persuade you. You gotta admit it, it's pretty fun!"

I glanced around at the joyful faces and the vibrant parade floats, the skunk tails swishing lightly by our sides as everyone danced to the nearby concert float. "I suppose it has its moments."

As we continued walking down the Sahara strip, I couldn't help but ask, "But don't you ever worry that someone here is gonna have an accident?"

"Not really," Charity shook her head. "You're more likely to trip on a mouse's tail than to get sprayed by a skunk. Trust me, they're really careful around here."

I raised an eyebrow. "Trip on a mouse's tail? That sounds like something I would do."

She leaned in closer. "Well, in that case, I hope you packed some tomato juice," she teased. "After all, it's a small price to pay for showing support."

This made me slightly nervous. I stayed close to Charity so that I could blame it on her if anything were to happen. Thankfully, nothing ever happened. The skunks spared me from their foul smells this year.

If there was one thing Charity taught me that day, it was the importance of tolerance. Honestly, skunks weren't all that bad. They were pretty decent and chill mammals once you got to know them. Not to mention, they were great contributors to society through pest control, sanitation services, and world-class fragrances. In the past, I had been a jerk to them, merely viewing them as lesser creatures. But Charity treated skunks, along with all other mammals in Zootopia, with love and respect. She made them feel like they belonged, just as she did with me.

There was so much I could learn from that coyote...

With a new sense of purpose in this world, it opened up so many doors for me to establish meaningful connections with other mammals. These connections were crucial to becoming a successful police officer—to make their world a better place. But such connections were often blocked by a language barrier; Zootopian dialects, if you will.

Chief Bogo assigned Nick Wilde to help me understand these Zootopian dialects. We'd go on day patrols together and practice. It was rough being with that fox sometimes, but at least he helped make the day go by fast. He pretty much knew every mammal in Zootopia—which also meant we'd go into unfamiliar neighborhoods, particularly those where nearly everyone spoke a Zootopian dialect.

I was still trying to figure out these so-called 'Zootopian' dialects. Hell, even Gazelle spoke one of these strange dialects.

One hippo lady, in particular, had failed to pay her monthly mortgage for nearly two decades, so it was time for Officer Wilde and me to deliver the bad news: an official foreclosure message from the Zootopian government that they would seize her property in the Marshlands if the next payment wasn't met. Simple enough, but the catch? This hippo lady only spoke in a Zootopian dialect. Nick taught me a few basic words and phrases over lunch break, but it was difficult to remember them all.

"Alright, you take point on this one, furless," Nick insisted as he parked the police cruiser.

"Me?" I asked in surprise, slowly stepping out of the cruiser.

Nick closed his door, giving me the legal paperwork . "Do you see any other furless mammals roaming around?"

I glanced at our immediate surroundings and saw no one else nearby.

With a nervous sigh, I asked, " ...How do I say good morning again?"

"Buenos días," Nick reminded me as we walked up the wooden steps.

"Buenas tías?" I tried again.

"Buenos días," he emphasized, ringing the doorbell before standing right behind me.

I nervously clenched the paperwork in my sweaty hands. "I... I don't think I can do this, Wilde."

"Relax, buddy. There's no pressure." the fox said. "You'll only offend the lady immensely if you make one small mistake."

I shot him an evil stare. Nevertheless, I took a deep breath and stood up straight in a professional manner. I didn't feel ready for this, but Officer Wilde insisted that I do the talking since it'd be good practice for me.

Please don't answer the door, please don't answer the door, I begged internally. That's when I heard heavy footsteps coming our way. Dammit.

The lady hippo answered the front door, swinging it wide open. She was only wearing a few ragged towels around her body while still being covered from head to toe in thick mud, likely from her mud bath.

"Okay, um... hola. Buenos tías, señora," I greeted in the Zootopian dialect, trying my best to get the accent right. "Soy Oficial Chenry, y este zorro es mi compañero, Oficial Wilde "

She crossed her arms impatiently, huffing from her nostrils as if she didn't want me to be there. "Aye, por dios, ¿tú otra vez? ¿Qué hace una criatura como tú aquí, husmeando e interrumpiendo mi hora de baño?

I had no idea what she just said. I looked back at Nick, who encouraged me to say something.

"Right, um... " I continued on, pretending I understood her. "Tenemos un masaje del gobierno para ti."

For some reason, the hippo lady's confused gaze suddenly turned into eyes widened with excitement."Ooh, ¿Enserio?"

"Um, sí?" I raised an eyebrow, holding up the paperwork. "Necesitamos darte un masaje duro."

"Ah, muy bien. Muy bien. Entra, por favor," she invited us inside her home, to which we followed her. She then laid down on a nearby sofa, flexing her muddy back. "Okay, estoy lista."

I turned towards the fox. "Um, Nick, what the hell is she doing?"

He smirked. "You promised her a massage, didn't you? Now give her a massage. That's what she wants."

"What?" I was flabbergasted. "I never said that!"

Nick simply shrugged. "Sorry, buddy. But you actually did."

The hippo lady gave us a head nod in acknowledgement as she continued to make herself comfortable.

I sighed, facepalming. "Estoy embarazada."

Nick nearly lost it, laughing uncontrollably.

I realized what that word actually meant. "Oh, shut up, Nick."

The rest of that day did not go well for me. We finally gave that hippo lady her eviction notice after she got her impromptu government support. Despite her financial predicament, she didn't seem bothered by the least bit. That was the only positive thing from this embarrassing experience.

"Rough day, huh?" Charity asked, sensing my 'grouchy' mood as we walked on the beach later that day.

I sighed, skipping a stone across the water. "We had to leave an eviction notice for a hippo lady today."

Charity's ears fell flat. "Aw, that must've been hard."

Shaking my head, I skipped another stone across the water, doing it harder this time. "...I ended up giving her a massage."

The coyote's ears perked up as she smiled. "Aww, that's very sweet of you."

"No, it sucked," I countered with a frown. "It was just supposed to be a message, not a massage."

"Oof," Charity winced, squeezing my hand with both her paws. "You got your words mixed up, didn't you?"

I shook my head in disdain. "Freakin' Wilde was no help whatsoever."

"Oh, Cherry" she rolled her eyes in amusement "Maybe you should leave the language teaching to me, eh?" she suggested with a small pat on the back. "I could show you a thing or two."

"Really?" I turned to her. "You'd do that?"

She nodded with a smile. "Of course, amor. After all, I do have a talented tongue," she declared with a wink. "I've spoken many Zootopian languages and dialects ever since I was a cub."

"Good." I gave two thumbs up. "Because my next patrol is tomorrow. So where do we start?

Charity had us start with the basics. Simple greetings, farewells, and quick conversations. Even a pickup line or two. The sunset painted the sky in hues of bright orange and pink colors, casting a warm glow on our path. She used the surrounding beach environment to demonstrate a few words as we walked around the rest of that evening.

"And 'la playa' means 'beach,'" Charity explained with a gentle smile.

"Great. So, what's 'sand'?" I inquired, eager to learn more.

"Arena," she responded, grabbing a pawful of sand and slowly pouring it into my cupped hands.

"Harina?" I misunderstood.

She giggled lightly. "No, that's flour."

"Ah, like a sunflower?"

"No, no, like the flour you use for baking."

"Right. And baking is 'cocinar', right?"

"Not quite, but close,' she said. "Baking is actually 'hornear', and 'cocinar' is cooking."

"Argh. This is so hard," I pinched my forehead, frustration creeping into my voice.

"Baby, you got this," Charity tried to lift my spirits. "It can't be nearly as hard as mathematics. And you're a lot better at math than I am."

"Yeah, but math makes more logical sense." I remarked.

She squeezed my hand, her reassurance as warm as the evening air. "Don't worry, you'll get it eventually! I promise. Just think of how many more mammals you'll be able to connect with—even with those beyond Zootopia.."

"But you're the only one I really want to connect with," I said, stopping to look into her beautiful eyes.

Her face lit up with a radiant smile. "Lucky me, because you're all mine anyway."

We laughed together, the sound mingling with the gentle rush of the waves. Continuing our walk, I felt a deep sense of contentment just being beside her, the challenges of learning a new language suddenly seeming a little less daunting.

Charity, seizing the opportunity presented by the scenic beach environment, decided to quiz me a bit more. "Alright, quiz time. What does 'oceano' mean?" she asked with a playful glint in her eyes.

I smiled slightly, feeling a bit more confident. "That's an easy one. Ocean."

"Y el 'mar'?"

"That's 'sea, right?"

"Yep! You got it!" She gave me a high four.

I gave her a high five, feeling a little more confident in my abilities.

"And 'el sol'?" she continued, pointing toward the scenic horizon.

"The sun," I replied, following her gaze to the sky now streaked with purple and gold.

She nodded, pleased with my progress. "Very good! Now, let's try something a little different," she said, her voice lowering to a softer, more tender tone. "What does 'abrazar' mean?"

I paused, scratching my head. "I... don't know that one."

Without a word, Charity stepped closer and wrapped her arms and tail around me in a warm embrace. "It means 'to hug,'" she whispered, her breath tickling my ear. "Ya ves?"

"I see," I chuckled, hugging her back. "That's good to know."

"Now, for another one," she continued, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. "What about 'besar'?"

I was stumped again. I tried racking my brain for an answer but couldn't come up with anything. "Sorry, sweetie. I don't know that one either."

She gave a cute smile, "I'll show you," and gently pulled me down towards her. Standing on the tips of her toes, Charity pressed her dark lips softly against mine as she closed her eyes. I felt the slight cool dampness of her nose brushing against my cheek. I was so nervous, I didn't know what to do, and yet, strangely enough, I kind of liked it. The moment between us was brief yet sweet, filled with the gentle sounds of the ocean waves and the soft rustle of the palm leaves. As we parted, she whispered, "That means 'to kiss.'"

I let out a shy chuckle. "I...I have to say, you're a pretty good teacher."

"Well, I always give extra credit to students who show promise," she winked, her paw gently touching my cheek, her furry fingers tracing a line down my jawline. "Te amo, mi bebecito."

I smiled with a newfound confidence. "I understood that one."

"Aww, you did?" Charity's eyes lit up with joy. "Aww, I'm so proud of you!"

"Gracias." I tittered.

Over the next few days, I became increasingly familiar with the Zootopian dialect, slowly but surely making progress. Zootopian languages and dialects were still a pain, but, you know, I figured they're like field-stripping weapons. Just repetition, repetition. Charity and I practiced every day after work, and she seemed to enjoy creating custom lessons just for me, especially when they shifted toward 'love' language. If she weren't so cute, I might not have been as enthusiastic about participating.

Just a little higher," she said.

I scratched behind her ear. "Like this?"

"Higher."

I moved my hand further up her head.

"Just a teeny bit higher," she repeated, practically purring. "Un poco más arriba."

I adjusted my hand again, just a smidge higher, and scratched right behind her left ear.

"Ah, yeah, that's it... that's the spot... keep going..." She sighed contentedly, her leg instinctively starting to shake. "Mmm, that's my love language right there."

I chuckled. "Speaking of which, that reminds me..." I leaned across the couch to pull out a special object from my satchel. "I saw this flower today and thought of you because it's beautiful and - Well, I don't really like it... but I thought you might like it because you're beautiful," I said as I nervously scratched my head. "But I like you anyway - err, I mean, I don't like you, I love you... I'd- uh, uh...." I sighed, cursing under my breath. "I mean, I love you so much. I actually love the flower too, but I love you more than I love the flower."

Charity stifled a giggle, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "You didn't rehearse that, did you?"

I sheepishly handed her the flower. "I thought I did..."

She shook her head, smiling warmly. "You're so cute."

Yep, that was rough, I thought. But thankfully, it worked out. Love languages were the greatest linguistic challenge I had ever faced in my life, surpassing that of unreformed Egyptian, Haskell, and Malbolge. Yet, that coyote girl was worth it.

************

5/12

************

In addition to learning other languages, Charity and I did everything together during our spare time, especially on the weekends. We rock climbed the red arches at Sahara Square, we went sledding on the frosty slopes of Mr. Big's estate, we ran marathons with camels under the hot sun, we did yoga and practiced martial arts under the many waterfalls of Rainforest District, we cooked and cleaned around each other's houses, we relaxed on the back porch hammock, we stargazed with my telescope, and we even danced in the rain to name a few things.

New things, new opportunities, and new words to add to our language lessons.

And we even went to new places we'd never been to before...

'Welcome to Marsh Market' is what the sign read ahead of us.

...which also meant new mammals to connect with.

Our buck-toothed beaver tour guide, Nibbles, excitedly inhaled through his nostrils. "Breathe it in! Whoo!"

Wearing a straw hat and a blue polo shirt, I stood on the rickety dock with my mouth hanging ajar as I took in the rather unpleasant scene. Seals were gobbling up thick piles of green algae—or sludge, whatever the hell that stuff was— from their clothed tables while otter servers were scooping up more servings for them from the marsh pond with their oversized wooden landing nets that reeked with a damp odor.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I don't want to breathe it in."

Meanwhile, Charity, who was wearing her pink baseball cap and white tank top shirt, stared at our new surrounding environment with both awe and child-like wonder. "Wow! This place is lovely!"

Mammals of all kinds—species I had never seen before—were shopping in the produce market, exploring the docks, getting tattoos, riding in giant water tunnels to other parts of the city, or even getting a tattoo.

"Smells like a dump," I quietly remarked, earning a firm nudge from the coyote. "I mean, it's great. It's really great!"

"That's what I like to hear!" Nibbles proudly proclaimed, guiding us through the market. "Now, how 'bout I show y'all two lovebirds around? Just be sure to greet everyone right—the water folk tend to be a little standoffish around land mammals."

Right as he said that, I accidentally bumped into a sea lion juggler, causing him to drop his juggling sticks. He turned around with a nasty scowl and growled at me in irritation.

"That makes two of us." I muttered, exchanging a brief glare with him before muttering. "You smelly, old, piece of sh-"

Charity gently escorted me to the side, giving the sea lion a friendly wave.

"Sorry!" she called out softly, to which the sea lion reciprocated with a respectful head nod before resuming his juggling.

How does she do that? I wondered.

I trailed behind Charity as she followed our stubby beaver guide, eager as ever to soak up everything this odd place had to offer. I wish I could've felt the same, but one thing was certain: any place was better with her by my side.

Nibbles led us to the end of the wooden pier, where he rang a metal service bell, seemingly placed in the most random spot. He even placed a large slimy fish in my hands and Charity's paws for no damn reason. But then we heard bubbles and that's when—a walrus plumber?—slowly rose out of the water.

I stood there, shocked... while Charity seemed completely amazed.

For a moment, the walrus and the beaver just stared at each other in silence. Then, suddenly, they launched into a rapid exchange.

"Hey, bub."

"Hey bub."

"Hey bubba."

"Hey bubba."

"Hey, bubba, hey."

"Hey, bubba, hey."

"Bububububububa."

"Bububububububa."

"Hey, bub," the beaver began mimicking squeaks and animal noises.

Charity and I exchanged confused glances, unsure of how to process the bizarre scene unfolding before us.

"Hey, bub, hey," the walrus started spitting to the side. "Bub, bub."

"Hey, bub, hey," the beaver replied with a couple of spits, followed by another spit. "Bubby, bub."

"Hey, bub, hey," the walrus upped the ante with an even bigger spit.

"Hey, bub, bub."

"Hey, bub," the walrus greeted one last time, his eyes narrowing.

Another awkward silence lingered between them.

"Ever seen a human before?" Nibbles asked out of nowhere.

"Nope," the walrus replied casually before snatching the fish from my hands and Charity's paws with his plunger. He gobbled it up in one giant bite, letting out a loud, obnoxious burp as he sank back into the marshy depths.

Charity and I stood there, paws and hands empty, still processing what just happened. I was shell-shocked. No wonder Judy and Nick haven't told me about this place, I thought. Charity found it funny and oddly charming, yet I thought it was straight up weird.

"Please tell me this isn't another language I have to learn." I said.

Charity just looked up at me with a smile before we continued on with the tour.

I may not come to understand all the languages and dialects Zootopia has to offer, but I could at least learn a few of them to get by... and make others laugh. And let's not forget one of the most important languages of all, perhaps the most vocal language throughout Zootopia—Howling.

It was the first language I was ever exposed to when I first came to this world. The topic inevitably came up after Charity and I had a game night with the Howl family. Evident from their last name, they were probably the most capable, qualified, and patient wolf family to teach the ancient language of howling to a human outsider like me.

"R-Remember, brother," Jay gestured, "take a deep breath—from the belly, not the chest. Wolves don't howl from the throat."

I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs, trying to mirror his instructions.

"Good! Now, relax your neck and open your mouth wide, like this." Jamie demonstrated a graceful howl, soon joined in harmony by Jay and Joseph, their combined voices echoing into the night air.

I watched in awe, then nodded, trying to summon my own howl. "Alright... here goes nothing."

My first attempt came out more like a low grunt mixed with a yawn, worlds away from the majestic sound I'd just heard. I winced in embarrassment, especially when Joseph burst out laughing.

Charity stepped in, offering me a smile that reassured me. "Amor, you need to howl with your whole body, not just your lungs. Feel it, like you're calling out to someone special."

"Exactly," Jamie added. "It's not just about the sound—it's about feeling connected. You're howling to the moon, to the world around you. Reach deep within yourself, feel the energy, and let it out."

Determined, I tried again. This time, I focused on loosening my stance, relaxing my body, and allowing the sound to come more naturally. My voice was still rough, but it felt better. There was something undeniably rejuvenating about the act of howling—an unexpected release of tension I hadn't even realized I was holding. I'd underestimated the effort it took to produce a proper howl, but now I could feel why it was worth it.

I glanced back at my furry companions—especially at Charity, who couldn't have looked more proud. A brief silence passed, and then, as if on cue, the distant echoes of other wolves joined in from across Zootopia.

"Woo! Y-You did it!" Jay cheered, his tail wagging with enthusiasm.

"Much better!" Jamie clapped her paws together.

"Not bad," Joseph shrugged, still managing to tease.

The three of them let out celebratory howls, their voices rising to meet the distant chorus of wolves that was growing by the second.

Charity ran up to me, wrapping her arms around my neck. "That's my Chair-bear!" she beamed, before she started howling too.

I couldn't help but smile. This was definitely one of the proudest moments of my life. "Thank you, guys," I said, my voice filled with gratitude. "Really."

I still needed more practice, but their lessons had already helped me tremendously. Charity made sure I practiced my howl at least once a day to keep it fresh. Honestly, it felt a bit odd howling from the back porch, but she turned it into a fun bonding activity for us, so I went along with it. Plus, I couldn't deny how therapeutic it was.

Thanks to Charity, I could confidently connect with many more mammals throughout Zootopia. I learned the various slang and picked up on the non-verbal cues unique to each species. This new understanding even helped me form stronger bonds with the younger ones—namely, the Junior Ranger Scouts.

They had a camping trip planned for the weekend, but their woodchuck scoutmaster had to cancel at the last minute. Apparently, he got hit in the head with a polo ball—courtesy of one of his fox scouts, during a game of water polo, if I remember correctly. To keep the kids from being disappointed, he asked me to step in as his substitute, ensuring they wouldn't have to cancel their trip.

Who in their right mind would leave the cubs under my care? No offense to myself, but that's a terrible idea.

I normally would've said no, but the ZPD insisted I put in some community service hours to meet our monthly quota. Charity also thought it would be good for me, so I ultimately accepted the responsibility. Since the camping trip was boys only, it gave Charity an opportunity to go on a girls' trip with her former cheerleading squad.

After dropping her and the gals off at Savanna Central Station, I headed out toward the distant mountain ranges beyond the city limits to meet up with the Junior Ranger Scouts at the Animalia Peak Trailhead—the third tallest mountain peak on the continent.

With its high elevation and steep terrain, the hike was rated strenuous for the average mammal. As an experienced soldier, I was used to rough conditions and being alone in the wilderness for extended periods, but taking a group of kids—anthropomorphic kids—was a whole new experience.

The troop consisted of a fox, a wolf, a beaver, a raccoon, a giraffe, a bear, an elephant... and, of course, a chipmunk. They were quite nervous around me when we first met, and it took some time and a bit of small talk for them to warm up. As their substitute scoutmaster, I had to prepare meals for both predators and prey, which required knowing how to cook for each group. This also included extensive first aid training—a real challenge given the variety of species, each with their own anatomy, size, and unique physiological needs.

Yes, I had to take a separate class for each species. What a pain...

But thanks to Charity's help, hours of Zootube videos, and three weeks of planning, I was ready for the next three days. The first day, we hiked up Animalia Peak, the cubs being full of energy and making it to the summit with minimal complaints. I was genuinely proud of them. To celebrate, I shared a box of chocolate scones with the kids—but I also brought vanilla ones for the canines, just to be safe. The sugar rush ought to be enough to fuel them on the way back down to our campsite.

"M-Master Chenry?" the young wolf scout called out.

"Yeah?"

"Can I have a chocolate one?" he asked, his puppy eyes practically pleading.

"What? No," I replied, my mouth half full as I tried to enjoy the scenic mountain view. "Canines can't have chocolate."

"What do you mean?" The wolf scout gave me a baffled look. "Of course we can have chocolate."

"Yeah, what planet are you from?" the fox scout chimed in, folding his arms with a smirk.

I paused, realizing I must have missed a memo somewhere. Apparently, canines evolved differently in this world. "Okay, fine," I sighed, breaking off a piece of my chocolate scone. "Here, you can take half of mine."

"Yay!" The young wolf cheered, chomping down on the last piece straight from my hand.

"...or just take the whole thing. Whatever," I muttered, shaking my head with a small chuckle.

Just then, something caught my eye. "Hey, Jasper. Put that tablet away," I ordered. "You cubs aren't even supposed to have electronics."

"Pfft, where's the fun in that, Master Chenry?" the fox scout teased, reluctantly tucking the device into his bag.

"Yeah!" the chipmunk scout agreed. "What better way to use them than outside?."

I splayed my hands. "We're out in nature, for crying out loud. How is it that a human has to tell a bunch of animals to be in tune with nature?"

The raccoon scout snickered, taking a bite from his candy bar. "Maybe we're more evolved than you think, Master Chenry!"

I couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. These kids were something else. Regardless, they were surprisingly obedient for the most part.

Later that evening, I taught the scouts some useful skills—starting a fire, chopping wood, pitching a tent, and recognizing constellations in the night sky. I even packed the telescope Charity got me for my birthday.

As we chopped wood for the evening campfire, I noticed the beaver scout wasn't doing much. We were already running low on wood, down to a sad pile of twigs, and it would be dark soon. Apparently, he'd forgotten his ax at home. I walked over to remind him of Rule #3B, Section 2A, Article 7 of the Junior Ranger Scout field manual: Come Prepared, Be Prepared.

"C'mon, kid. It's getting late," I said, glancing at the sky. "Not all of us have night vision, you know."

The beaver scout threw his paws up. "Fine, I'll just use my teeth."

I raised an eyebrow. "I don't think that's gonna—"

Before I could finish, he'd already started gnawing at the base of a dead oak tree with his chompers. In no time, the entire trunk came crashing down, splitting into manageable pieces.

"...Nevermind," I muttered, tearing the field manual in half. "Good job, kid."

His confidence soared, that big-toothed grin of his impossible to miss. The troop and I gathered the wood, now more than enough for a solid fire, and headed back to camp.

Everything was going well and smoother than I had thought. The kids were a little rambunctious on the hike that day, but they seemed to look up to me since I was their temporary scout master. When night fell, the animal kids and I sat around the campfire, enjoying each other's company. We talked about random things, went into deep discussions about movies, and even told jokes.

"Hey, guys, why did the elephant bring a suitcase to the safari?" the fox scout grinned mischievously, looking around the fire.

We stared at him, waiting.

The fox scout paused for dramatic effect. "Because he wanted to pack his trunk!"

The entire troop groaned and giggled, while the elephant scout playfully shoved his fellow fox scout with his trunk. "That was terrible!"

The fox continued rolling on the ground, laughing like crazy, which was more funny than the joke itself. He just couldn't help it. Even I had a bit of trouble keeping it together as I watched him struggling.

"I'm gonna get some more firewood..." I lied, quickly standing up to go laugh my ass off in private behind the closest tree I could find.

And the jokes just kept coming and coming, getting more and more ridiculous by the minute. A three humped camel being called... pregnant? A bear with no teeth... a gummy bear? A horse walked into a bar, the bartender asked... Why a long face? Good hell. All those jokes were so damn stupid, yet hilarious at the same time. They were only funny because they weren't funny. I had to bite my tongue a few times to keep a straight face.

With it being so dark in the forest, the kids eventually came up with the idea to tell scary stories. Each kid took their turn telling a scary story, which related to vampire sabretooths, ghost wolves, jackal ghouls, or other things related to their species.

Give me a break...

For me, the stories weren't all that scary—they were laughable at best. I had seen and heard far worse things in my life, but I listened to the kids regardless and tried my best at pretending to be thrilled. In reality, the kids weren't really sharing scary stories no matter how much they said they were. Nevertheless, I became more intrigued and listened intently.

After every kid had their turn, they all turned their attention toward me.

"Come on, Chenry! Tell us a scary story!" the fox kid begged, his eyes wide with excitement.

"Yeah, tell us!"

I shook my head, checking my watch. "It's getting late."

But the animal kids kept insisting that I share a scary story to wrap up the night.

"Please, Mr. Chenry!" the wolf kid howled. "Just one story!"

"Pleeease?" they all gave those manipulatively cute eyes.

With a sigh, I finally gave in. "Alright, fine," I adjusted myself to sit more comfortably on the log. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

The bear cub scoffed, waving his paw dismissively. "Nah, we're good!"

"We don't get scared that easily," the raccoon kid proudly proclaimed.

"Yeah, we're totally fine!" the fox acclaimed.

The Junior Ranger Scouts sat in closer, their furry heads resting on their paws, ears perked and eyes wide, waiting eagerly.

After a dramatic pause, I asked, "...Are you sure?"

"Yes!" they all shouted in unison, excitement mixing with a hint of nervousness.

Taking a deep breath, I nodded solemnly. "Very well," I said, my tone lowering as I leaned closer to the firelight.

"There was a time, long ago in the Stratocracy, when my squad and I found ourselves stranded in a dark forest... much like this one." I glanced around at the towering shadows, watching the Scouts' eyes dart as they glanced into the surrounding trees.

"This forest, though, was darker. And deader. The trees were all charred black, twisted up like claws scratching at the sky, and not a single leaf dared to grow there, completely devoid of life. The air was heavy, and thick with strange, chilling moans that echoed from the shadows, closing in on us. My squad tried to keep calm, but the noises grew louder and louder, coming from every direction." I paused, letting the tension build. "And then... we heard it. A growl—no, not just any growl. This was monstrous, mechanical, like metal grinding against bone, echoing through the trees."

"Out of the shadows, I saw them—two fiery red eyes, glowing in the dark, watching us from the bushes. We tried to stay together, but one by one... my squadmates vanished. No noise, no screams, nothing. They were... gone. I found the remains of their gear, and soon after, something worse—their bodies, which were twisted inside out, beyond recognition, and their heads... missing."

The Scouts all gasped, one or two instinctively scooting closer to each other.

"As the red eyes crept nearer, the air turned bitter cold, so cold I could barely breathe. It filled me with a chill that pierced straight to the bone, darker and colder than anything I'd ever felt. I knew it was the abomination...that thing... it was hunting us. And I knew it was unstoppable. In desperation, we razed the entire forest down to ash, hoping that would rid us of the monster once and for all." I leaned back, letting the firelight cast dancing shadows around us. "And for a moment, we thought we were safe. We returned to base, weary but relieved..."

The Scouts were staring, unblinking, clutching onto each other.

"But then, as we unloaded the gear, we noticed something in the cargo bay. There in the shadows, waiting for us, was a pair of glowing red eyes. The same eyes we'd seen in the forest. And at that moment, we realized... it had followed us home."

As I finished my story, I noticed the kids staring wide-eyed at each other around the campfire, mouths hanging open in stunned silence.

"...You guys alright?" I asked, glancing around at their frozen expressions.

Not a single word escaped them. Only the sound of crickets and the fire crackle filled the air.

"Well... good night!" I clapped my hands together, yawning as I stood up from the log. "Let's try to get some good rest, alright? We've got a big hike tomorrow before heading home. So... yeah," I tried to shake off the eerie quiet as I made my way to my tent.

One by one, the kids shuffled off to their designated tents without saying a word. The night settled into a peaceful silence, without a single disturbance in the air. Just then, I heard a little whisper outside my tent. Unzipping the door flap, I saw the fox cub sitting outside, shivering.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

With a nervous look, he mumbled, "Mr. Cherry, can I sleep in your tent?"

I blinked, taken aback. "... What?"

"Please?" he begged, eyes wide with fear.

I sighed. "Don't you have your own tent?"

"Yeah, but..." He trailed off, staring at the ground.

"But what?"

"It's just..." he fidgeted with his paws. "...I'm too scared to sleep by myself."

Reluctantly, I made room for him. This was going to be a long night.

Minutes later, there was another tap on my tent door. I unzipped it to find the raccoon cub peeking through, tail trembling.

"Uh, Mr. Chenry, sir, can I sleep in here too? I'm a little scared."

"Just a little?"

"Well, maybe a little more than a little."

I let him in, too. Before long, it was getting crowded in my tent, making it nearly impossible to get any decent sleep. As the night wore on, more kids came knocking. Finally, the last cub, the elephant, stood outside.

"Mr. Cherry, could I also sleep in here too? Please? I don't want to be alone."

"Kirkland," I sighed, addressing him directly.

"Um, it's Kirk, actually," he corrected.

"Right, Kirk. We talked about this."

He lowered his head. "Don't you have any room?"

The situation already got out of hand. Not to mention, this elephant kid was at least twice the size of any scout. It wouldn't work. But I could tell by the look of his eyes that he was desperate.

Finally, after a minute or two of silence, I sighed. "Alright. You can come in."

The young elephant smiled in gratitude, squeezing right past me.

Now my tent was at max capacity. Even more so than its intended manufacture design—completely filled with animal kids from corner to corner. I had to partially stick my leg out through the tent door to make room. I didn't know how this was going to work. One thing was for sure, though: the animal kids were all sleeping soundly. The elephant kid's trunk kept wrapping around my neck, the wolf pup kept talking and howling in his dreams, and the fox's tail kept swishing back and forth, itching my face in the crowded tent.

"Great," I sighed. "Just my luck."

I exhaled once again, this time with a tired smile, as I realized that these kids were safe and accounted for—even if that meant I couldn't get a good night's sleep myself. Either way, I just couldn't wait to sleep in my own bed once this whole camping trip was over.

"Master Chenry?" one of the animal kids whispered.

"Yeah?" I whispered back.

There was a brief pause. "...You'll protect us, right?"

"Yes. Yes, of course I will."

"Cross your heart?"

I nodded solemnly, laying my head back as I gazed up at the stars. "Cross my heart."

"Thanks," he chirped, raising his paws as he got comfortable on his back. "I feel much safer now."

I sighed, a mixture of discomfort and warmth filling me. "You're welcome, kid. Now go to sleep. Or I'll sell your camping gear."

A small giggle escaped him before he dozed off, joining the rest of the snoring kids.. It had to be one of the most physically uncomfortable nights I've ever slept through, but hey, at least I could mentally rest assured, knowing that the kids were indeed safe, together, and all accounted for.

Being with these animal kids brought out a new feeling that I had never felt before—almost as if it compounded the best feeling I got when I chose to be with Charity. It made me want to start something... but I couldn't find the word for it. Imagine what I could teach a young cub if I spent a whole year with him. But... maybe I was getting too far ahead of myself. After all, I was just a soldier. At the end of the day, I had Charity, whom I was excited to see when I got back.

As soon as we had cell reception, I checked my phone to see one of her texts:
Hola, amor! Sooo excited to see you 🐾❤️ Drive safe!

With a little help from the scouts, I quickly typed back:
You too :)

Since Charity and I hadn't seen each other in a few days, we decided it was time to make up for it. Camping had already worn me out, especially since I hadn't gotten much sleep the past couple of nights. Charity suggested we do something more relaxing—just the two of us. We both took some time off from work, dipping into our remaining PTO, and planned a weekday getaway at the Palm Hotel.

A bit pricey for my taste, even during the week, but with our combined summer savings, we managed to secure a nice room with a great view of the city at a reasonable rate. The hotel had been completely remodeled since last year's flooding incident, making it an ideal spot to unwind and recharge.

I was running a bit late, thanks to some paperwork I had to redo at the ZPD, so I had Charity check us in early and wait for me. Apparently, I forgot to specify 'ground squirrel' instead of 'tree squirrel' on a few suspect documents for a jeweled acorn case. Damn squirrels. But eventually, I made it to our hotel suite, still in my work clothes and in a humorous mood.

************

6/12

************

"Hey, sweetie, you gotta check out this hilarious zeme Nick posted," I chuckled, scrolling through my phone as I stepped into the tropical serenity of the room.

Eager to share the laugh, I headed straight to the bedroom to show Charity, unaware she was changing. As I entered, I caught a glimpse of the coyote, her slender back turned toward me, bare and furry.

Wow. I thought. She's beautiful. Very beautiful and... naked...

Wait a minute...

"Oh!" I snapped out of my thoughts, blurting, "Oh, sorry!" My hands instinctively flew to cover my eyes as I spun around, closing the door behind me. Retreating, I perched myself on a stool facing the balcony, the vibrant tropical hues outside blurring as I sat there, flustered and trying to calm my racing heart.

Why didn't I knock first? I scolded myself. Now she'll think I'm a fool. Then again... didn't she leave the door open? I couldn't remember.

Time seemed to stretch out, my thoughts spiraling until the soft creak of the door nudged me back to the present. I stayed still, caught between respect and awkwardness. Then, I felt the gentle warmth of Charity pressing against me, her arms wrapping around my chest from behind.

"Are you dressed?" I asked hesitantly.

Her response was a playful, "...Maybe?" followed by a soft giggle.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly exhaled, "Oh, boy..."

She leaned in, her voice a whisper by my ear, teasing, "I thought you said coyotes don't wear clothes in the human world."

Caught off guard, I stammered, "Well, yeah, I did, but... that doesn't necessarily mean you—"

"Baby, I'm kidding," she reassured, settling into my lap, now clad in her new swimsuit. "You like my new bikini?"

"Oh... um..." My reply came out more nervous than I intended, "Sure, it's great, it's just...." Her fingers traced my chin, her eyes meeting mine, radiating mischief and warmth as she loosened my tie. I trailed off, "... Nevermind."

She stared deep into my eyes. "I missed you."

I stared back. "I missed you too."

"I missed you more."

"Really?"

"Yep."

I raised an eyebrow. "You wanna bet?"

"Oh, I'd win," she smiled slyly.

I scoffed. "Yeah?"

"Yep."

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"Ah."

"Yep."

I didn't know what to say after that, nor did I feel the need to. She didn't say another word either. We just sat there, gazing into each other's eyes for the next minute or two, our smiles warm and quiet. My heart gradually began to slow, feeling more and more at ease as I stared into those mesmerizing amber eyes of hers.

She leaned in closer, her body language clearly telling me she wanted something, but I hesitated, waiting for her to make the first move. Yet, it was clear she was waiting for me. Eagerly. Patiently.

For the moment, I just sat there with her on my lap, letting out a quiet, relieved sigh. It felt good just to be with her again, to enjoy this simple moment together.

The coyote then smiled, caressing my cheek with her paw, "Could you brush my tail for me?"

Her request caught me by surprise, "You want... me to do it?"

"Yes, please," she gave me a brush, fluffing her tail in anticipation. "You get the honor."

Settling in, she stretched her slender body across my lap, creating a cozy scene as I took the brush in hand, tending to her beautiful tail with gentle strokes, enveloped in the comfort of the tranquil ambiance of our tropical suite.

"Does that hurt?" I asked out of caution.

"Nope. You're doing great!" she replied cheerfully.

"Good," I acknowledged, continuing to brush. There was something special about her tail... it felt incredible between my fingers, soft and elegant, like I wasn't even qualified to brush it.

"Ouch!" she suddenly cried out.

"What? What did I do?" I panicked.

"Nothing, baby. I'm okay," she giggled, fluffing up her tail. "Got you, didn't I?"

"Oh, ha ha," I replied, dripping with sarcasm.

We spent the next few minutes chatting about our recent camping trips, laughing over our different experiences. By the end, we'd made plans to go on one together soon.

As I finished brushing her tail, Charity rolled over, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Alright, big guy," she teased, her tail wagging excitedly behind her, "Get ready, because I'm about to pounce on you."

I chuckled, unsure if she was serious, but then she suddenly sprang up and tackled me onto the bed. "Oof!" It was almost like her predatory instincts were kicking in, albeit in a more playful way. Our laughter filled the room as she effortlessly pinned me down, despite me holding back on my size advantage.

She made an adorable, pretend growling sound, her paws gripping my torso. "Pinned ya."

"You're really aggressive," I said, impressed with her determination.

"Yes, I am," she smirked proudly, getting herself into a more advantageous position.

I decided to play along.

We started wrestling on the bed for a while. Keeping up with her wasn't easy—Charity was quick and nimble, her moves gentle yet spirited, and she had a lot of energy. Her coyote ears were perked up, alert, anticipating most of my moves.

We'll see about that...

After gently shoving her away, I went in for the side tackle. However, she evaded my move and I fell right into her leg lock.

"Trying to beat a coyote at her own game, huh?" she quipped, unsheathing her claw to stroke my cheek, careful not to scratch too hard.

"Alright, let me up," I freed myself, taking a second to breathe before immediately going in for a surprise tackle.

She didn't see that coming. I had her flat on her back until she tried to roll away, but I grabbed her by the tail and gently pulled her back. Yelping in surprise and laughing, she whipped around, wrapped her legs around my arm, and yanked herself free before quickly climbing onto my back. I tried to twist and fall back to trap her underneath, but she was quicker, flipping herself on top of me just as I landed on the mattress.

"Pinned ya again," she winked, her tail wagging happily behind her as she sat comfortably on top of me.

"Argh, you got me." I opened up my palms, pretending to be utterly defeated.

She nibbled at my ear, her pointy canine teeth gently grazing my skin. "I'm gonna eat you up for breakfast," she teased in a silly yet tender voice.

"Not today," I lifted up her slender body into the air with one hand. There was nothing she could do. However, her response was swift and mischievous—she began tickling me with her outstretched paws.

"Are you ticklish?" Charity teased, her four fingers dancing expertly.

"No," I lied, grimacing as I tried to suppress a laugh, "I'm not—argh!" She tickled me again.

She flashed a sly smile. "I think you areeee."

Using my strength, I managed to pin both her arms to the bed to stop the tickling. "Sorry, sweetie, but breakfast is canceled," I declared triumphantly.

With a cunning move, she raised her foot and tickled my armpit with her three toes, forcing me to release her. She then leaped back onto me, held my limbs in place with hers, and gently bit my ear. "Gotcha!" she chirped.

"Fine, you win," I conceded, both of us laughing as we settled down, her furry head resting on my chest. Despite my size and strength, Charity's playful energy and nimbleness always seemed to give her the upper paw.

Charity's eyes sparkled with victory and affection as she leaned down close to my face. "I knew I could take you down, big guy," she whispered, her breath warm against my cheek. "My handsome giant. My big baby."

"Yep. You got me," I admitted, my hands resting gently on her hips. "Now, what? What's my punishment?"

"Your punishment, huh? Let's see..." She shifted to lie beside me, her head nestling against my shoulder. "Your punishment," she murmured, "is to cuddle with me until the sun sets."

"It doesn't set for another two hours." I remarked.

"And?" she asked playfully.

I smiled tiredly. "Okay, then."

It seemed doable—probably the best punishment I could ask for. We lay there together, watching the sky change colors as the last light of day faded. Gradually, the playful energy that had animated us gave way to a peaceful quiet. Charity's breathing slowed as she snuggled closer, wrapping her leg around me while I pulled her in tight. With a beautiful coyote by my side, I felt at peace. It was moments like these that made me happy that I came to this world. In our secluded haven, time seemed to slow down, allowing us to savor every glance, every touch, and the simple joy of being together.

"You know how much I love you?" Charity asked, her eyes blissfully shut.

"I do," I said, gently massaging behind her ears—something I knew she loved.

Feeling relaxed and content, she leaned over to give me a kiss on the cheek. What a slice of heaven she is. That's when I began massaging behind her paw—something I also knew she loved.

But part of me felt there was something more I could do that she would've really loved. I just couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly.

Unable to figure it out, I shrugged it off and turned my focus back to her. We lay together, savoring the peaceful moment. The room was quiet, filled only with the soft hum of the desert breeze and our steady breaths. As we settled into the calm, Charity's ears perked up, and she turned to me.

"By the way," she began, her eyes meeting mine, "My family's having a reunion next week."

I nodded in both sadness and understanding, knowing that she'd probably be gone for a few days.

"...And I want you to come with me." she added, her paw gently stroking the side of my cheek.

"Oh... really?" I asked, a bit surprised.

She nodded with a soft smile. "They want to meet you."

I hesitated for a moment, thinking about meeting a whole new set of coyotes, but her beautiful eyes melted any apprehension I had.

"Okay," I replied, returning her smile.

Charity's tail wagged slightly, and she leaned in closer before closing her eyes. 

We lay back down, my arm around her, knowing that next week would bring a new adventure. I'm actually going to be meeting Charity's family, I thought, which made me both nervous and excited. I've always wanted to meet Charity's family. I'd only seen them in picture frames in Charity's treehouse and the wallpaper on her phone before she changed it to us. What would they think of me? How would they react to her dating a human? Would they accept it? These questions hounded my mind over the next couple of days as we prepared to go visit them.

************

7/12

************

The drive out to Charity's childhood home was a long journey—a bit further than Bunnyburrow—about three-hundred miles south of Zootopia. Nestled just beyond Deerbrooke County, their home lay in a beautiful prairie land called Howlhaven.

It was a lot like Bunnyburrow in some ways - except there were only ten coyotes per square mile instead of ten thousand bunnies per square acre. The vegetation and the foliage were more golden in color than green. The crops were slightly taller and the distant hills were a bit more rugged.

As we drove up the last dirt road into the upper hills, we came upon a hidden valley. There in the center were a few cozy-looking cabin-like den homes partially built into the hillside. Just outside of them were hundreds of coyotes, big and small, old and young, gathered together under strings of lights, playing outdoor games and getting food ready as they watched us pull into the driveway.

After I finished parking the car, Charity eagerly hopped out to greet everyone she saw, making her way through the lush garden where two coyotes were waiting, overjoyed to see her.

"Mom! Dad!" Charity ran up to them and gave them both a big hug.

"Aww, sweetheart!" her mother beamed, wrapping her arms tightly around her daughter. "We missed you so much! Welcome home!"

Her father, standing beside them, chuckled softly. "It's good to have our Little Howler back."

"Oh, Dad," Charity playfully rolled her eyes at him. "I'm not a cub anymore, you know."

He smiled, his eyes twinkling as he embraced her. "You'll always be our little cub, no matter how grown up you get."

Esmeralda smiled knowingly at Charity. "He's right, dear. Time sure flies, but some things never change."

Charity giggled, hugging them again. "I love you, guys!"

They hugged her back as other family members quickly joined in.

It was such a sweet and tender moment. Watching them interact, it suddenly became clear where Charity got her good looks from. She had her mother's big beautiful brown eyes and the dark russet fur coat of her father. Meanwhile, Charity's twin sister Rebecca, whom I spotted among the family crowd, was the opposite; she had her mother's lighter golden fur coat and her father's vibrant honey-colored eyes. Overall, they had a spectacular set of genes. I was surprised to see some foxes and even a few maned wolves among the coyote family, which explains Charity's graceful and slender appearance.

Lost in my thoughts as I admired the Pawts Family and their humble home from afar, I felt Charity grab my hand as she guided me through the family crowd. Even though these coyotes were much taller than bunnies, I still towered over them. Yet, that didn't mean I wasn't nervous or shy.

"Mom, Dad, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Chenry," she introduced me, proudly wrapping her arms around my waist. "He's the one I've been telling you all about!"

"Pleased to meet you," I said politely, bending down and holding out my hand.

Both coyotes tilted their heads to the side, without saying a word, seemingly trying to process me. Great. They already disapprove of me.

Charity's mom stepped in closer, paws on her hips as she glanced up at me. "So are all humans this handsome?" she asked with a smirk.

"Uh..." I scratched my head, unsure how to respond.

She grinned proudly, leaning toward Charity and whispering, "Yep. I think you scored," with a wink that made Charity blush. Then she wrapped her arms around me in a warm hug. "We're so happy to finally meet you, Cherry!"

I gave a relieved smile, knowing where Charity gets her hugs from. "Thank you, Mrs. Pawts. It's good to be here."

Noticing her father standing off to the side, I extended my hand toward him. He simply shook his head, and joined our group hug, after which his face lit up. "Boy, you're sure tall." he remarked.

I chuckled lightheartedly.

Later that evening, I learned that Charity's father was Ethan, and her mom was Esmeralda. In addition to Rebecca, her twin sister, Charity had some younger siblings. Takoda was her little brother, Dakoda was her second youngest brother, and Serenity, her little sister, was the youngest. I could tell they'd inherited Charity's cuteness.

Her little brothers came up to me. "Excuse me, sir. Can we ask you something?"

"Sure," I said. "Ask away."

They leaned toward each other, taking turns cupping their paws around each other's ears, whispering and nodding about something.

Seemingly in agreement with each other, they looked up at me and asked in child-like wonder. "Why are your ears like that?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Like... like that," they pointed up. "All curvy, round... and furless."

"Aren't they the cutest?" Charity gently pinched under my earlobe. "Sometimes I just wanna eat them up."

"You know what," the coyote pup tilted his head, inspecting me. "They kinda look like two pieces of frybread glued to the sides of his head."

"They kinda do, actually," another coyote agreed, nodding.

"Really?" I started feeling my ears, suddenly self-conscious. "You... you think so?"

The coyote cubs all nodded in unison - including, to my amusement, the cousins.

"Right...," I sighed in acknowledgement. "I guess humans are just weird, aren't they?"

One coyote pup shrugged. "Sí, un poquito... but that's okay. We still think you're cool."

Good, I'm glad it's okay, I thought humorously.

Charity continued introducing me around her family. There were so many coyotes here at the reunion. Like me, they were all a bit shy at first, but once we had a chance to interact, we started warming up to each other. They were such a sweet and kind family, never short on compliments—or remarks—about my human features. They were very curious mammals.

But it didn't take long before things started to get a little crazy. As soon as I walked under one of the pear trees in the Pawts Family orchard, I felt a bunch of furry critters leap down and ambush me.

"Oof!" The air escaped from my lips as two more coyote boys joined in.

"Now, now, everyone, let's give Uncle Cherry some room." Charity raised her paws to get their attention.

The coyote pups continued to crowd me. A few pulled at my arms, others clung to my calves like a saddle, and one was even tugging on my hair.

"Hey, everyone, look here," Charity said in a soothing, sing-songy voice, making a coyote gesture with her four fingers. "Quiet coyote. Shh. Quiet coyote."

One by one, the coyote pups mimicked her and quieted down.

"Perdón, amor." Charity tittered, picking up one of the coyote toddlers. "They've never met another mammal outside their species before."

"Está bien." I replied, fixing my hairdo with a slight chuckle. "Lo entiendo."

"Speaking of which, is that my favorite interogee?" a familiar female voice joked from behind.

I turned around and saw what was almost like a mirror-like reflection of Charity, except that this coyote had a lighter fur pattern and a pair of glasses.

"Hey, Rebecca," I greeted, extending my hand toward her.

She shook her head, amused. "Haven't you learned yet? We don't shake paws around here," she said, leaning in for a tight embrace. "We wrap them around you."

"Fair enough," I nodded, politely returning the gesture. It felt weird being in this position, ever since she interrogated me on behalf of the ZIA when I first came to this world, but it was good to see her regardless.

"What up, sis?" Charity greeted with a double peace sign, cocking her head to the side.

"Heya, girl," Rebecca mimicked her twin's stance with a smirk. "What's cookin'?"

"Oh, you know. Twice the sass, as usual!"

"That makes two of us," Rebecca winked.

The two coyote girls laughed as they embraced, holding each other fondly for a long, tender moment. Even I couldn't help but smile.

I let the two of them catch up as I explored around the family reunion—particularly around the Pawts Family home. More and more coyotes had arrived—aunts, uncles, and cousins—so I went indoors since it was a little less crowded. While I still had to duck in some areas and doorways, it was more spacious than the Hopps Family home in Bunnyburrow. Plus, the cabin-like atmosphere and wooden walls made the place feel a lot more homey. Even though it wasn't my home, I felt quite relaxed.

My eyes drifted to the stone mantel above the fireplace, where several family photographs were on display. Curious, I moved closer for a better look. One picture showed a young Charity fishing by the river with her dad. Gosh, what a cutie. A few frames over, I spotted another photo—Charity dancing in the wheat fields with her mom. Next to that, there was a snapshot of her cheerleading in high school with Rebecca, her twin sister. A few more frames down, little Charity was reading a bedtime story to her baby brothers. Above it all, there was a larger family picture, likely taken just a few years before I met her. Everyone looked so happy together. Wow, I thought. Such a beautiful family.

"Family...," I murmured softly, pausing to reflect for a moment.

As I continued wandering, I noticed an elderly coyote seated comfortably in a wheelchair on the front porch. She had gray fur, a wooden cane resting beside her, and a big, warm smile as she gazed out over the horizon.

I waved 'hello,' but she didn't respond. I tried calling out a bit louder, but still nothing. From the looks of it, she couldn't hear me. I moved closer, even snapping my fingers once—but still, no reaction. She remained completely unaware of my presence.

Huh, I thought curiously. That's certainly different from what I normally get in Zootopia.

Just then, Charity and Rebecca came up the porch steps, walking side by side.

"Hola, Mama Eva!" Charity greeted the elderly coyote with a kiss on the cheek, followed by Rebecca doing the same.

The elderly coyote smiled warmly. "How are you, Julia?"

Charity and Rebecca exchanged a knowing smile, one of understanding.

"...Julia?" I whispered quietly, confused.

Apparently, Mama Eva had trouble remembering things. I also learned that she was Charity's great grandmother, who was 107 years old. This was truly amazing, considering coyotes in my world don't live nearly as long as humans - even human soldiers. But since this was an anthropomorphic world, things were quite different here—animals could live as long as humans, if not longer.

Charity held me by the hand and walked me to her great grandmother to meet her. I had to take a knee so that I wasn't towering over her. It turns out, she didn't have the best eyesight either due to her age.

As I shook her paw with my hand as a greeting, she patted my hand a few times before gently pulling me closer. I bent over slightly and bowed my head. That's when the great-grandmother coyote reached up to touch my face. I recoiled back a bit, confused.

"It's okay," Rebecca said reassuringly.

"What's she doing?" I asked quietly.

Charity, kneeling beside me, explained, "She just wants to see you. It's her way of getting to know you."

I didn't quite understand.

"It's how she 'sees' others," Rebecca added. "It'd be rude not to allow her this.

"Please." Charity added softly. "It would mean a lot to her."

"Oh... okay." I finally understood. Sort of.

With that, I bowed my head further, allowing the elderly coyote to place her paws on my face. She explored my features with a gentle curiosity, squeezing my cheeks, and feeling the side of my head before rubbing a finger across my forehead. Thankfully, her claws weren't too sharp compared to younger coyotes.

After a moment, she leaned back in her wheelchair, her smile radiating the entire ambience, and whispered, "Welcome to our family, dear boy."

I felt a surge of emotion at her words. Being embraced by Charity's family, especially by the matriarch, filled me with a sense of belonging I had never experienced before. Unable to find the words to express my gratitude, I simply patted her paw a few times and gave her a grateful nod.

Charity, beaming with happiness, leaned toward me and whispered, "I think she likes you."

I looked at her briefly, then nodded softly. "I like her too."

Later that evening, the Pawts Family gathered in the prairie field for a large event, filled with live music and dancing. With everyone now present, the family reunion was officially underway. These coyotes had far more energy than I did—I was already worn out by the third song—but I did my best to keep up. Charity and the coyote pups kept me going with their lively energy. They were having fun, she was having fun, and I was having fun. But most importantly, everyone was having fun.

As Charity and Rebecca danced with their little brothers, I found myself dancing with their little sister, who stood on top of my boots. Their mom suddenly twirled up beside us.

"Hey!" Esmeralda cheerfully greeted us, swaying her tail back and forth to the music.

I gave her a quick head nod. "Sup."

"What are you two cuties up to?" she asked with a smile.

"We're dancing!" the little coyote girl on my boots declared proudly.

Touched by the moment, Esmeralda pulled out her phone to snap a quick picture before continuing to dance. Then, she leaned in and asked, "Do you mind if you and I go for a little stroll?"

"Sure," I let out a tired, relieved sigh. "I could use some air."

Charity's little sister frowned in disappointment as I let go of her paws

"You're still my best girl, Serenity," I said, giving her a gentle fist bump.

Her smile returned as she bumped my fist with her paw. Talk about being a cutie...

Once the song ended, I let Esmeralda lead the way toward the open prairie fields, leaving the rest of the family behind to continue enjoying the reunion. The sounds grew quieter as we ascended into the hills, replaced by chirping crickets and a slight breeze blowing through the grass. Orange light blanketed the entirety of the landscape as we walked side-by-side on a quiet dirt path. At the top of the hill, we paused for a moment, glancing back at the family reunion in the valley below us.

"...I think she has a crush on you," Esmeralda whispered then chuckled.

"Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Pawts," I shyly assured. "She's pretty lightweight, actually. Plus, I've got steel-toed boots and cushioned inner soles, so yeah, I'm fine."

Esmeralda stared at me for a second before bursting into laughter. "Oh, Cherry, you're hilarious!" She placed her paw on my forearm, still giggling. "You are just how my daughter described you."

"Is that right?" I asked, to which she nodded.

I gave a half-smile. "Well, that's only the tip of the iceberg..."

"So tell me more about yourself," Esmeralda prompted, her ears perking up. "What's your story?"

I sighed. "It's kinda long and tragic. Mostly boring, though. I'd hate to bog you down with it."

"Cherry," she said gently. "Sometimes sharing lightens the load. Please know that I won't force you to share anything," she paused, closing her eyes briefly before looking back up at me. "But, if it's alright with you, I'm all ears."

I nodded in understanding, looking down at the ground for a moment, then nodded again. "Okay."

Knowing where to start was the hardest part. My mind struggled to find the right words, with so much to say. But once I took a deep breath and began speaking from my heart instead, the rest of the words came naturally. I told her everything I felt prompted to share—the wars, the military, the destruction of my world, the extinction of my race, stumbling upon a new world, finding absolution, discovering a new purpose, and, finally, meeting Charity, the greatest joy of my life.

Even though it was a lot to take in, and often hard to grasp, Esmeralda listened without judgment. She didn't interrupt, question, or hold anything against me. She simply sought to understand. Her eyes never left mine; she listened carefully, and she listened intently. Just like Charity...

"Now you know..." I sighed, feeling drained after sharing the long story. "...how much of a mess I am."

"Cherry," Esmeralda said softly, "all these past experiences have shaped you into the mammal you are today. You've learned from your mistakes, grown stronger because of them. And you don't have to be afraid anymore. You're home now. You saved Zootopia, you saved my daughter..." Her voice cracked as tears welled up in her eyes. "And I know she's lucky to have you."

"I'm very lucky to have her," I declared, almost correcting her. "She's been wonderful."

"Charity has always brought out the best in others. She sees the heart, not just the surface. She sees potential in everyone, often more than they see in themselves. And she's chosen you, Cherry. That speaks volumes."

I lowered my head, not knowing what to say.

Esmeralda continued, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "She thinks the world of you. She's even told me she has dreams about you."

"Dreams?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. "What kind of dreams?"

She smiled, blissfully closing her eyes. "That you two are together forever—happy, united as one, and surrounded by those you love."

"That... that sounds nice, actually," I sat down on a nearby log to reflect.

The coyote gently lifted my chin with her paw. "You know you have my blessing, right?"

"It's just...," I hesitated, slowly gathering my thoughts. "Charity is a coyote, and I'm a human. Don't you know what that means for her?"

"I do," Esmeralda affirmed, her tone unwavering. "And I wouldn't change a thing. Charity has already made her choice. She's happy, and I couldn't be prouder of her. Coyote or not, I know you two will make a great couple."

"I may not be the best partner, but... I will always be there for her," I promised, my voice steady. "She is my world."

"And you are hers, too."

Those words hit me harder than I expected. I tried to hold back a tear.

Esmeralda's smile was gentle and understanding. "You seem like you were raised by good parents," she said. "I'm sure they'd be very proud of you."

My gaze drifted to the ground, a mix of emotions swirling within. "Yeah..." I trailed off.

Sensing my hesitation, Esmeralda placed a comforting paw on my forearm. "What's wrong?" she inquired softly.

"Nothing, it's just... I never had parents."

The coyote looked up with sorrow in her eyes. "...Not even a mother?"

I shook my head in disappointment, staring downward.

A shadow of sadness crossed Esmeralda's face as she absorbed those words. We stood silently for a moment, the weight of my confession hanging in the air.

After a thoughtful pause, Esmeralda's expression softened, and she offered a reassuring hug. "Well, now you do," she declared warmly. "You have a family now. And I'm very proud to call you my future son-in-law—or maybe just 'son' to keep things simple." She winked. "¿Qué te parece?"

"That... that would mean a lot to me. Thank you, Esmeralda," I finally managed to say, my heart swelling with newfound belonging.

With a tender smile, Esmeralda gently cupped my hand in both her paws. "Please, call me 'mom,'" she suggested, her voice imbued with genuine affection.

I reached out, tentatively touching her paw with my hand. "Mom," I echoed, allowing the word to settle in.

With a shared smile, we turned back toward the family gathering, walking side by side. For the first time, I felt the warmth of a real family—a sense of belonging that had eluded me in my own universe, now found in this new world with Esmeralda and the rest of Charity's family.

Not long after, I had a 'Man-to-Mammal' talk with Charity's dad, Ethan. Our time together was brief and straight to the point, but it was meaningful. He approved of me being with his daughter and even suggested I call him 'Dad.' Funny, I thought. Dads are usually a little shorter than their sons—not a lot shorter.

As the family reunion continued, I stepped back for a moment to take it all in. Charity's relatives were warm and welcoming, their laughter and chatter creating a vibrant atmosphere. My attention drifted to Charity, who was holding a baby coyote in her arms.

"Hey, amor," she called, her voice as soft as the baby's fur. "Come meet Lylla."

I walked over, slightly hesitant. "Lylla?"

"She's my baby cousin. The newest member of the family." Charity's eyes sparkled with pride as she gently bounced the tiny pup in her arms. "Isn't she precious?"

"She's adorable, that's for sure," I admitted, though I kept a respectful distance.

Charity looked up at me, a playful smile on her face. "Wanna hold her?"

I blinked, taken aback. "Me? I've never held a baby coyote before... or any baby, for that matter."

"It's easy," she assured, stepping closer. "Just support her head like this and keep her close."

"I don't know, sweetie. What if I mess up?" I glanced at the tiny, delicate coyote in her arms. "Or what if I hurt her?"

"You won't," she reassured, placing Lylla in my arms before I could protest further. "Just relax. You've got this."

Reluctantly, I adjusted my hold, supporting Lylla's head the way Charity had shown me. The baby squirmed a bit but quickly settled, her wide eyes locking onto mine. In that moment, the world around me seemed to fade away.

Lylla's big brown eyes were filled with curiosity as she stared up at me. I could see the innocence and wonder in her gaze, and despite my initial apprehension, I felt a strange sense of peace. The pup yawned, her tiny mouth opening wide before she let out a soft, contented sigh.

"She's never seen a human before," Charity said softly, watching us with a tender smile. "So you're kind of a mystery to her."

I chuckled, still mesmerized by Lylla's gaze. "She's staring so intently."

"She likes you," Charity warmly noted. "Look, she's smiling!"

Sure enough, Lylla's little mouth curled into a smile, and before I knew it, I found myself smiling back. The simple, pure joy of the moment was infectious.

"See?" Charity said, her voice filled with warmth. "You're a natural."

I chuckled, glancing at Charity. "Maybe it's because you're close by."

"Nah," she leaned in and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. "You're doing just fine."

As I continued to hold Lylla, I suddenly felt a growing connection with the tiny life in my arms, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a profound sense of contentment. This family, this moment – it was everything I never knew I needed. Life was so precious...

"Hey, are you okay?" she noticed a tear coming down my cheek.

"I'm fine, it's just..." I quickly wiped the tear away. "Must've gotten a piece of fur stuck in my eye."

Charity smiled, leaning her head against mine as we both let Lylla's furry head rest between ours. The warmth from the two coyotes felt calming to the soul.

It was getting late, the sun nearly set, which meant it was time for baby Lylla to go to bed. I carefully transferred the little coyote back to Charity and she took over from there.

While I stood there, contently watching them go into the house for bedtime stories, I couldn't help but ponder my life up until this point. Being with Charity helped me realize that there's so much more to life. And holding her baby cousin made me realize that there's even more.

Just then, I heard soft footsteps approaching. Turning, I saw Rebecca. She said nothing at first, only offering a small smile and a nod as we both stood there, silently gazing at the stars.

For a while, there was only quiet between us, until she cleared her throat.

"You know, it could've been us, right?" Rebecca said softly.

I let out a stifled chuckle.

"I had feelings for you," she continued. "Ever since the day I interrogated you when you first arrived in our world. That's a day I'll never forget."

I sighed, looking down. "I was a different mammal back then—dense, stubborn, hot-headed... well, I still am. But you get the point. Everything was happening so fast... I didn't know what to do. I felt lost, overwhelmed, unsure of myself. And then Charity, she... she came in at the right time—when I needed her most. She helped me discover who I am."

Rebecca turned her gaze back to the horizon. "I understand..."

"I'm sorry, Rebecca," I said quietly.

"Don't be," she shook her head, a small smile forming. "I'm genuinely happy for you. For you and Charity. At the end of the day, I'll be proud to call you my brother-in-law."

"Brother, huh?" I returned the gaze, pondering that word. "Well, part of me has always wanted a sister. Err, sister-in-law, I mean."

"Let's not overcomplicate it." she teased. "Sister is fine. Especially since I'll be your first."

I slowly nodded, still trying to process this unexpected yet heartfelt reality. "Fair enough."

Rebecca closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. "Just promise me you'll protect Charity. She's everything to this family."

I gave her a firm nod. "With my life," I promised.

She smiled, stepping forward to give me a hug. "Then you have my full support."

After our conversation, I found myself lost in thought for the rest of the evening, wondering what the future would hold for Charity and me. Now that I'd met her family, and they'd accepted me, I felt the weight of new expectations. There was something I knew I had to do—but I didn't know if I was ready. And more than that, I wasn't sure if I could do it at all.

This was all new, uncharted territory for me—both beautiful and terrifying. I guess you could say things were getting pretty serious.

At the conclusion of the Pawts Family reunion, everyone gathered for a family picture. Coyotes, young and old, stood in formation—shortest in the front, tallest in the back—grouped by family and household. The last of the coyotes set up the camera, prepping the timer before running back to join the pack.

I stood off to the side and observed the beautiful coyote family. Seeing them all together and happy warmed my heart. That's when Charity's mom beckoned me to come join them.

"This is kind of ridiculous, wouldn't you say?" I chuckled. "I'm not even a coyote."

"Nice try, son. Get your tail over here," Ethan called out with a grin.

"Right here, next to me, amor," Charity added, waving her paw with Lylla still fast asleep in her arms.

"I should be the one taking the picture," I said.

"Nonsense, Cherry!" Esmeralda responded warmly, her tone light and welcoming. "Coyote or not, you're part of the family now. Come on, don't be shy."

I sighed with a chuckle. "Okay, mom."

With that, I made my way over, careful not to step on anyone's tail. I knelt down next to Charity, who cradled her baby cousin Lylla, while her uncle's camera snapped a series of photos. Part of me expected someone in the family would eventually photoshop me out—since I wasn't even their same species—but they never did. In fact, they had the family portrait printed out to hang over their stone fireplace.

************

8/12

************

The Pawts Family reunion became a day I'd never forget. It stirred up a lot of thoughts and emotions, making me reflect on my future with Charity. Soon enough, we returned to our weekly routines, going to work, dating, and spending time together as usual. While I enjoyed this life—imagining I could live it forever with Charity by my side—I knew deep down that something had to change. I wanted something more meaningful, lasting, and endearing. And I knew that's also what she wanted.

It became clear to me. After spending time with the Howl family, the Hopps family, and now being accepted into the Pawts family, I knew what I wanted to do. What I had to do.

I wanted to propose to Charity.

Crazy, right? That's exactly what I've been thinking. If my younger self had known I'd fall in love with a coyote girl, he would've called me insane. I couldn't blame him. After all, Charity and I are two different species.

But everything's different now. I love her—to the moon and back. Even to the moons of Jupiter and beyond. I can't imagine my life without her.

For a while now, I've felt this growing desire to propose to Charity. And the funniest part? Charity knows it, too. She's hinted at it more times than I can count, and we've even joked about it together. We both know she'd say yes. She even told me once that she'd propose to me if she could, but she didn't want to put that kind of pressure on me. She and I both knew I wouldn't handle it well. Not to mention, I'd probably say no—not because I don't want to marry her, but because I'd cop out, trying to avoid such a serious commitment.

Charity understood this about me. She knew this wouldn't be easy for me. But she believed that eventually, I'd find the courage to ask.

But could I do it? Maybe. Should I? I don't know.

Humans have been no strangers to sci-fi romances, where couples come from entirely different star systems. But usually, they're still human or humanoid—they share some physical resemblance, enough to fuel a certain level of acceptance among a disquieting society

Zootopia is a little different in that regard. Inter-species relationships aren't unusual here. But a human and a coyote? An alien and a native? A Stratocrat and a Zootopian? That's completely unheard of. While most of my animal friends are supportive, I couldn't help but wonder—what would my fellow humans, if they were still alive, think about all this?

These questions kept swirling in my head, gnawing at me. For days, I sat in Savanna Central Park, wrestling with my thoughts. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know who to turn to. That is, until someone came to mind.

Nick Wilde.

Of all the animals I knew, Nick was the only one who surfaced in my thoughts. I decided to give him a call, even though that's something I rarely do.

Nick's voice came through the line, smooth and casual. "Well, well, if it isn't my favorite human, calling me outside of office hours? Whoa," he teased. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

There's a reason I don't call him. "Nick, can you get down here? I need your help."

"Oh, now you need my help, huh? Well, this should be good," the fox chuckled. "Alright, buddy, where's the fire? I'll be right there."

"Savanna Central Park," I replied, pinching the bridge of my nose. "And the answer, before you ask, is no, I do not want a pawpsicle."

Nick chuckled on the other end. "Aww, come on, furless, you're no fun. But fine, no pawpsicles. I'll be there in five. Try not to look too desperate before I arrive."

"Whatever," I muttered, hanging up and rolling my eyes.

It didn't take him long to arrive at the park—not like he'd have trouble finding me, anyway.

I was lost in my train of thoughts when I suddenly heard his voice from behind.

"Is that what I think it is?" Nick strolled up casually, his eyes immediately catching the glint of the ring in my palm, which I frantically tried to hide. His smirk widened. "Well, well... Look what we have here. The mighty Cherry, ready to tie the knot with his coyote gal! Am I dreaming, or are you just confusing this with a recruitment mission? 'Cause that sure looks more like a weapon of commitment."

"Nick, please. This is serious." I spoke sternly. "For once in your life can you set aside your petty jokes and take this seriously?" I asked, lowering my tone. "Please. As a friend."

No longer joking around, the fox gave me his full undivided attention for what might've been a rare solemn moment on his part.

I sighed, looking down. "Sorry. I didn't mean to lash out. I'm just nervous."

Nick waved it off. "It's fine, buddy. What's on your mind?"

"A lot of things, actually," I admitted. "Too many things..."

"Take your time, pal," he encouraged.

I took a deep breath, turning toward him. "Alright. I'll get straight to the point."

"Fire away," he said casually.

"Do you think I should marry Charity?"

Nick paused, thinking for a moment. "Can I ask you a different question?"

I blinked, a bit surprised, but conceded. "Sure."

"What's stopping you?" he asked.

"I... I don't know, Nick. I really don't," I confessed. "Maybe I'm overthinking it. Maybe I'm crazy. But it feels right. It makes sense—at least, to some degree. But how can I be sure that my conscience isn't leading me astray?" I began fidgeting with the ring, staring at it. "Maybe all this time in Zootopia has clouded my judgment. Maybe Charity and I were never meant to be... or maybe we are, and it's just..." I trailed off in frustration, unable to explain myself. "I don't know, man. It's hard."

Nick, who had been silent this whole time, finally spoke. "Do you love her?"

"What?" I thought I misheard.

"Do you love Charity?" he repeated, his tone more serious than before.

"Yes," I replied, without hesitation. "More than anything."

Nick nodded slowly. "Then you know what you have to do, buddy. Just follow your heart."

"Follow my heart..." I echoed his words quietly.

We sat together on the bench, quietly watching the city. After a long pause, Nick's police radio buzzed, calling him back to duty. He silenced the first notification, but a second buzz followed. He probably would've silenced it again to stick around longer, but I nodded, knowing he had to go.

Standing to leave, Nick patted me on the back. "It's nice to see you again, Furless."

I managed a small smile. "You too, Wilde."

Feeling a bit more at ease, I listened as he got into his cruiser and started the engine.

"And Nick?" I called out just before he drove off. He looked out the window at me. "Thanks," I said.

"Don't mention it, buddy," he lifted up his shades, and winked. "You got this."

After Nick left, I stood from the bench and picked up the nearest round stone. With a hard flick of my wrist, I skipped it across the pond, feeling more energized than before. I knew what I had to do.

Tonight was about to become the hardest yet greatest decision of my life. There was still a chance to walk away...

...but where would I go? If I resisted any longer, I'd regret it for the rest of my life. This had to be done. I knew it had to be done, no matter what my ancestors might think. Wouldn't they understand? Does it even matter?

To all mankind watching from above, please know that I must follow my heart. This has to be done. We stopped trusting our hearts long ago, for they often betrayed us, leading us to less probabilistic survival. But times are different now. Mankind had its chance, I'm the last survivor as far as I know, and the only way I can truly survive is by living. This life is worth living... and I cannot do it alone. Nor will I.

Screw it, I thought. This is my life, not theirs. If I must face judgment for my choices, then so be it. My mind was made up.

Later that evening, I met up with Charity in Rainforest District and made a delicious dinner for her at my place—one of her favorite Zootopian dishes, Fish n' Crickets, accompanied by her favorite Gazelle playlist in the background. We cuddled on the couch for an hour, laughing and sharing funny stories, until I decided it was time to take her to a very special place.

I've been wanting to take her there for quite some time. I just never had the chance to do so until now.

At first, I almost didn't recognize it, for I hadn't been there in years. The patch of earth, once scarred and seared from orbital impact, had fully healed, now teeming with beautiful ferns and wildflowers. So much has changed. Even though the place was different than I remember, it was the same place regardless.

It was where it all began.

The forest was bathed in the silvery glow of a full moon, casting an ethereal light on the scene. We wandered around the hills until I found the perfect spot.

I took a deep breath, feeling the cool night air fill my lungs as I turned to Charity, her eyes sparkling under the moonlight.

"Charity," I began, my voice trembling with emotion as I took a knee before her, "Will you... will you marry me?"

The coyote gasped, her paws flying to her mouth in a gesture of surprise. For a moment, there was silence. Then, unable to contain her emotions, she leaped into my arms, wrapping her furry arms tightly around my neck as tears of joy streamed down her cheeks.

"Yes! Yes!" she cried, her voice overflowing with pure happiness.

I chuckled, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief and jubilation as I held her close. Time passed, and she still wouldn't let go. Never had I ever seen her cry so much before. Oh, coyotes, they're so emotional.

"Awww, amor!" she cried again, cupping my face between her paws, "I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you!" she said, giving me a barrage of kisses, followed by another barrage. "Te amo muchísimo!"

"Me too, sweetie," I smiled, resting my head against hers. "Me too."

We continued hugging until we both fell to our knees, overcome with sheer joy. Then we hugged again, after which I carefully placed the ring on her finger.

I pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, still holding her paws. "So, what happens now?" I asked curiously, trying to fully grasp the magical moment. "To be honest, I didn't think I'd make it this far."

She smiled through her tears, her face glowing with happiness. "We've got a LOT of planning to do," she said, sniffling as she wiped her tears with the back of her paw.

************

9/12

************

And she was right. The next few months were about to get crazy busy. Rumors of our engagement spread like wildfire, and before we knew it, family and friends were calling in to congratulate us. They wanted to know when the big day was and how they could help.

Charity and I decided we'd get married on her birthday, which was only seven months away.

The Howl family, the Hopps family, and especially the Pawts family were super excited. Even Mr. Big's family wanted in on the celebration. Fru-Fru and her friends dropped by our place, and when they saw the ring on Charity's finger, they screamed so loud that a few car alarms went off in the neighborhood. Bummer—I just had our windows installed.

Still, seeing everyone come together brought me joy. They were determined to make it a grand event, even though I originally imagined something more low-key. Little did I know how much passion went into Zootopian weddings. Fru-Fru and my coyote mom were already helping Charity pick out a dress, while the Hopps family began working on decorations with over 275 little helpers. The Howl and Pawts families teamed up with them—coyotes, wolves, and bunnies all working together, each contributing in their own way. I just hope they won't ask Flash to conduct the wedding...

I remember seeing Charity try on her dress for the first time at the local tailor's shop. Wow. She looked sooo beautiful. Just like a coyote princess. I had a hard time keeping my head facing forward while Mr. Big's associates worked on fitting my tuxedo. The way that cute coyote looked back on me and smiled melted my heart. Could the day come any sooner?

Every doubt I'd ever had disappeared the moment I asked for her paw. I knew this was the right decision. And I couldn't wait to spend the rest of my life with Charity Pawts, the most wonderful, sweetest girl in Zootopia. I loved her so much.

And yet, despite all the excitement and preparation, something felt incomplete. Charity was perfect, I wouldn't change a thing about her, but there was a lingering feeling, a sense that something more was missing from our lives.

Over the next few days, I found myself reflecting on my time in Zootopia. Certain moments stayed with me in unexpected ways—like being with the Junior Ranger Scouts in the mountains, holding Charity's baby cousin in my arms, and other meaningful experiences with the Zootopian youth. Those memories left a special impression on me, something I couldn't shake. I tried pushing the thought aside, but it kept tugging at the edges of my mind.

With a few months left until Charity and I got married, I found myself with plenty of time to reflect and ponder.

Charity noticed my quietness as we sat together on the porch. "What is it, amor?" she asked gently.

I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "You know, I've been thinking... maybe you and I could start a family... or something."

Her eyes lit up with excitement. "You want to have kids? With me?"

"Well, you and I can't have a baby, obviously," I shrugged. "So there's no point in trying."

Charity gave me a look, then smiled playfully.

"Anyway!" I hurried along, trying to steer the conversation back. "Maybe there are other options?"

"Aww, I'd love to have a human baby," the coyote gushed, her enthusiasm overflowing. "And with your cute blue eyes? He'd be sooo adorable."

"Yeah, well..." I scratched my head. "That's not really an option, you know."

Her ears drooped slightly but quickly perked up again. "Yeah, I know... But still! A human baby would be the cutest thing ever!"

I sometimes worried about the fact that Charity would never be able to have coyote pups of her own—at least not naturally. She could've married another coyote guy without having to make such a sacrifice. But she's reassured me many times that she's already made her choice and is happy as long as we're together. Knowing that brought me comfort.

"We could always adopt," Charity suggested excitedly.

I thought about it for a moment, reflecting on my time in Zootopia and the many diverse mammals I'd met. One species in particular stood out. "Wolves are pretty cute too, don't you think?"

"Yep! They are pretty cute," she agreed wholeheartedly. "Then again, any cub we adopt is gonna be adorable, no matter what. There are so many in Zootopia that need a family."

"Well, how about us?" I suggested. "I think we can manage. And I know you'll make a great mom."

"You'll be the best dad ever," Charity smiled.

I chuckled softly. "I don't know about that, but I'll try my best. You'll have to show me the ropes."

"Don't worry. We'll figure it out together," she promised.

I splayed my arms. "I mean, how hard can it be?"

"Pretty hard, actually," she admitted with a slight giggle. "But it's gonna be sooo worth it."

At this point in my life, I wanted to become more than just a soldier. Not just a husband to a beautiful coyote wife—but also a father. Not a father from lifepod simulations, but a real, actual father. A sacred duty that would give me even more purpose in this world.

Having a wolf son is like having a pet dog, right? Except that he can talk, walk on two legs, wear clothes, go to school, attend college, and possess a level of intelligence exceeding that of a three-year-old. Not to mention, a much longer lifespan.

He might learn to ride a bike, play an instrument, try out a new sport, or even drive a car. In truth, adopting an anthropomorphic wolf kid would be more challenging than I initially imagined. But it was something I always wanted. And I knew that Charity and I would love him as much as we love each other.

After numerous interviews and a mountain of paperwork, I was finally approved. The Zootopia Adoption Agency had to make some unprecedented decisions to grant me legal guardian status. As a non-native to this world, they understandably needed extra background checks to ensure the safety and well-being of the child. But eventually, I completed the long process and was approved—on the condition that I'd have to wait eight months before I could take the pup home. This worked in our favor since Charity and I would be getting married in seven months. As husband and wife, we'd have our first child soon after, and our family would be ready to begin.

Charity and I wandered through the halls of the Zootopia Orphanage, our eyes meeting those of curious cubs of every shape and size. They were boisterous and playful, happy and healthy, not to mention absolutely adorable.

Most of them were too busy with their toys to notice us. But the shy glance of a white-furred wolf pup with striking blue eyes stopped me in my tracks. He seemed a bit more isolated from the rest, quietly sitting by himself.

While Charity chatted with one of the cheetah caretakers, I stepped inside the playroom to meet the young wolf.

Kneeling down to the pup's level, I introduced myself. "Hey there. I'm Chenry. What's your name?"

The pup nervously replied, "Ch-Charley. I'm Charley."

"Charley," I repeated with a smile. "That's a good name."

"Th-Thank you," he said softly.

His white fur reminded me of myself, and even Charity had mentioned that his blue eyes mirrored my own. But it was the quiet, thoughtful, and shy look in his eyes that spoke to me. It was as if I saw a part of myself in him.

After taking a good long look at him, I nodded, knowing he was the one. "How would you feel about me becoming your dad?"

Charley fidgeted with his tail, looking up shyly, unsure of what to say.

I sighed in understanding. "I know I don't come from a lot, and I can't promise I'll be perfect... but I can promise you two things: You will always have a home, and you will never have to be alone again."

Charley's ears perked up ever so slightly, but a lingering doubt clouded his expression.

Sensing his uncertainty, I gently continued, "I know what it's like to not have those things, and believe me, I know how much it hurts—the emptiness it leaves inside. But there's something else I can promise you, Charley: I will do everything in my power to make sure you get the love and protection you deserve."

Charley looked up, uncertainty giving way to a glimmer of hope. "Really?"

"Really," I affirmed, extending my hand. "And as an added bonus, you see that coyote girl over there?" I pointed toward Charity, to which he nodded. "She's going to be my wife. I can guarantee you'll have the best mom in the universe."

Charity noticed us staring at her through the glass panel. She smiled at us, especially at Charley, and waved her paw. Charley happily waved back.

I nodded proudly, turning to Charley. "Isn't she wonderful?"

The wolf pup nodded fervently, then ran over and embraced me.

It was all set then. We were going to adopt Charley. While we couldn't take him home with us just yet, we scheduled weekly visits with him over the next few months to continue strengthening our bond.

As Charity and I walked out of the orphanage together, I couldn't help but feel that my life, once marked by battles and solitude, was now taking a turn toward something far more meaningful. With Charity and, eventually, Charley by my side, I was no longer just a soldier from a distant world; I was about to become a father, ready to embark on the greatest adventure of my life.

Together, we would create a family unlike any other in Zootopia—a family bound not by species, but by love, understanding, and the shared courage to embrace the unknown.

Charley, Charity, and Chenry.

Charity and I were going to need a bigger home to raise our future family. A place where we could forge memories, embark on new adventures, and be ourselves. The city had its charm, but Charity and I wanted to tap into our wild side and embrace the outdoors. That's when I decided to build us a cabin.

It would be in Melody Springs, close to where Charity's family lived.

While listening to zodcasts on how to become a dad, I also read books on how to build a house from scratch. This presented me with the unique opportunity to design something that would accommodate a human, a coyote, and a wolf under one roof, unlike most homes in Zootopia, which were tailored to a single species.

As I was drafting up some blueprints from the hood of my car, my police radio crackled to life. Since I was still on extended leave, I quickly silenced it, wanting to stay focused on my project.

The cabin-like home I had in mind took inspiration from the Pawts Family home and Mr. Big's mansion. Although, a bit more conservative in size and increased verticality to accommodate my height.

I would have my own work office, Charity would have her own yoga gym, we'd have a cozy living room with a comfy sofa for cuddling, and a wide-open porch where we could gaze upon the stars and howl at the moon to our hearts' content. Charity would have her own flower garden, and Charley, our future son, would have his own bedroom and playroom. But most importantly, we'd have an entire forest to ourselves.

In the weeks leading up to our wedding, I spent most of my free time building the cabin—our dream home. The plan was to finish it before we got married, but we'd have to see how things went. Charity was a great little helper and offered an extra paw whenever I needed it. Though unfamiliar with toolboxes, she asked enough questions to eventually bring me the right tool—at least, most of the time.

While chopping up some wood to build the main entryway to our house, the police radio buzzed to life again. It had low battery, so I put it away for the time being. With no more distractions, I picked up my saw and went back to work.

As we worked, Charity and I jammed out to Gazelle's latest album. She turned up the volume, only to get a weather alert on her app. We looked up at the overcast sky and knew it was time to take shelter.

Soon, the skies were pouring down upon us—something we often enjoyed, even dancing to it.

But whenever the rain got too crazy on the worksite, we'd pitch our tents and wait out the storm. I brought Charity her own tent, but she'd sneak into mine and snuggle with me. We'd keep each other warm during the rain and talk about new house projects—like making sure the cabin stayed watertight and sealed, unlike our leaky tent, much to our amusement.

Life was going pretty well. The adoption papers were under final review, I was about to marry the coyote girl of my dreams, and the cabin was nearing completion. By the end of the month, we'd have everything we needed to start our family.

We were in the middle of another rainstorm, hunkering down in the tent, when my radio transmitter suddenly crackled to life again.

"Officer Chenry, this is Chief Bogo. Do you read me?"

I reached over the pillow and clicked the button on my transmitter. "Chenry, here. I read you."

"Report to the ZPD immediately. We've got a situation."

"Situation?" I raised an eyebrow. "Chief, I'm still on PTO until tomorrow."

"It can wait, Chenry," Bogo growled over the radio. "Your priority is to get down here to the station, ASAP. That's an order."

I sighed. "Yes, Chief."

"Over and out," he said before the radio went silent.

Sitting up in the tent, I slowly began gathering my police gear.

Charity stirred and lifted her head. "Amor, is everything okay?""

"Everything's fine, sweetie." I assured her. "I just need to head out for a bit. Duty calls."

"On your day off?" she asked, a bit concerned.

I shrugged. "Chief Bogo made it sound urgent. Better not keep him waiting."

"Please, be careful," she pleaded, placing her paw gently on my cheek. "You know how much I worry about you, right?"

"I'm sure everything's fine," I reassured her, placing my hand over hers. "Besides, it doesn't sound nearly as bad as the climate wall incident."

"Let's hope so," she said, a hint of worry still in her eyes.

************

10/12

************

We trotted the rest of the way to the Zooyota Packrunner, parked on a nearby dirt road, dimly lit by the overcast skies. The path ahead was still muddy from the rain, so I scooped Charity up in my arms to keep her paws clean, placing her gently into the passenger seat.

I fired up the Packrunner's engine and accelerated onto the dirt road, which would eventually lead us back to the county and the highway. Charity and I exchanged a glance, looking back at our unfinished cabin with a touch of sadness, but knowing the project would have to wait.

After dropping Charity off at her parents' house, I headed straight toward downtown Zootopia. The drive was long and lonely, and my mind kept drifting to what the situation might be. Still, I remained optimistic, quickly changing into my white shirt and tie as I neared the ZPD.

As I entered the bullpen, something felt off. It was quieter than usual—too quiet. Officers were seated around the room, but instead of the usual banter, they were murmuring in low voices. No arm wrestling, no gossip, not even the smell of coffee lingering in the air.

"Good morning, Hopps. Good morning, Wilde," I greeted them, taking a seat next to the duo.

Judy, distracted from her thoughts, looked up and greeted softly, "Oh, hey, Cherry."

"Top of the morning to you, Furless," Nick added, fist-bumping me. Unlike the others, he still had his usual upbeat energy, though something about the room clearly had him on edge too.

"...Do you guys know what's going on?" I asked.

Judy was about to respond, but the room suddenly fell silent as Chief Bogo entered. Strangely, none of the larger officers banged their fists on the desks like they normally did.

Bogo looked more exhausted than I'd ever seen him—darker circles under his eyes and a deep frown creasing his face. He rubbed his temples, the frustration and weariness clear in his posture.

"Officers, I'm sure you've all noticed by now that this briefing is starting two hours earlier than usual," he began, his voice steady but grim. "There's a reason for that. Last night, fourteen mammals went missing."

Murmurs spread throughout the room. Judy's ears perked up, and she glanced at Nick, shocked like everyone else. Before she could speak, Nick leaned forward, his tone casual.

"Fourteen, huh?" He turned to Judy with a raised eyebrow. "Carrots, you having déjà vu? This is starting to sound an awful lot like last time."

Bogo shook his head. "Except it's not like last time, Wilde. Predators and prey have gone missing."

The murmurs in the room quieted, replaced by a sense of confusion and dread.

Judy's brow furrowed. "Are we sure Bellwether isn't somehow involved? Could she be pulling strings from prison?"

Bogo sighed and shook his head. "Bellwether is being monitored as we speak. She's denied any wrongdoing or involvement. She's still locked up at Zootopia County Detention Center, with no access to outside communication. There's no clear pattern, no obvious connection between the victims. Whoever's behind this, there's no evidence pointing to her."

"What about leads?" Judy once again went straight for the questions.

"Or witnesses?" I pitched in.

"So far, none," Bogo admitted, rubbing his temples again, clearly stressed. "We don't know why this is happening, or who's involved. But make no mistake—we cannot let fear spread through the city again. We barely held Zootopia together last time. We need answers before panic sets in. This is priority number one."

I glanced at Judy and Nick, the three of us exchanging a look, realizing how serious this situation might be.

Straightening up, Bogo regained his authoritative tone. "From here on out, patrols will be doubled. I need every able officer on the streets—day and night—until we find all fourteen missing mammals."

Higgins handed Chief Bogo the case files, and he began passing them out to the assigned officers. "Assignments: Officers Grizzoli, Fangmeyer, Delgato—your teams will cover the missing mammals from Sahara Square..."

Grizzoli jumped up to take the file before Delgato could, while Bogo continued handing out the remaining cases, finally reaching the last one.

"...And finally, Officers Hopps, Wilde, Chenry—your teams will take the missing mammals from the Rainforest District."

Judy took the case file, and Nick and I followed her out of the room. As per our usual routine, we set up shop inside the police cruiser to familiarize ourselves with the details before heading out.

It was an honor to be working alongside the duo once again. Normally, I worked behind a desk, building machine learning models to predict crime across Zootopia. But this case clearly showed that my models couldn't catch everything. Outliers like this still struck me as unusual, though.

As the three of us reviewed the case file for a missing antelope, we quickly noticed something unsettling.

Leads: None

Witnesses: None

Evidence: None

"Yep. I'm having déjà vu all over again," Judy muttered, pointing to the image attached to the file. "Okay, let's see, last known sighting."

We all leaned in to examine the blurry photo, which showed what appeared to be our missing antelope strolling in a random neighborhood in Rainforest District. But everything else about the photo seemed vague—I didn't know what else to make of it. But I could tell from Judy and Nick's expressions that there was more than meets the eye.

"Well, I'm not seeing any pawpsicles," I quipped, earning a side-eye from Nick.

"No pawpsicles, but..." Judy leaned in closer, her eyes narrowing in concentration. "Look at what he's carrying—a box of some sort. You guys see that?"

Nick and I nodded. The box seemed like a trivial detail to me, but Judy wasn't finished.

"And see how he's walking east on Riverbrook Lane? That's perpendicular to Badger Road," she continued. "Now, check the bottom left corner, just behind the foliage. There. It's faint, but you can spot the corner of a pink van."

Sure enough, she was right, though the van was barely visible in the photo.

Nick crossed his arms and smirked. "Carrots, I think you're onto something. There's only one guy I know who drives a pink van like that. And if our antelope friend's carrying a box away from it, that can only mean one thing."

Judy nodded, clearly on the same page. "It's a delivery."

I frowned, still trying to piece it together. "Wait... so what does that mean?"

Judy smiled, the excitement lighting up her face. "It means we have a lead."

Nick slid on his aviators, grinning. "Bet we could solve this in 48 hours?"

"One way to find out," Judy replied, firing up the cruiser.

As it turned out, our lead was Gideon Grey—the only fox in Zootopia with a pink delivery van of that make. Apparently, he'd delivered a pastry to our missing antelope just a few hours before the disappearance. I was pleasantly surprised by the duo's inference. Clever bunny, clever fox.

Judy made a quick phone call to her parents to get Gideon's delivery route. It wasn't long before we got the information and headed out. But as we neared the address, smoke began rising in the distance, a dark plume against the cloudy sky.

Judy's eyes widened. "Oh, no..." she muttered, flooring the gas.

As we sped toward the source, the smoke grew thicker, and the unsettling sight of flames flickered on the horizon. When we finally reached the scene, we saw it—a pink van flipped over on its side, engulfed in flames.

"Gideon!" Judy cried, leaping out of the cruiser before it had fully stopped. She sprinted toward the wreckage, desperation in her voice.

Nick quickly followed, grabbing her arm before she got too close. "Whoa, Carrots—hold up! You can't just run in there!"

"But Gideon—" Judy protested, her eyes darting between the van and the roaring flames.

Without a second thought, I ran past them both toward the van. The heat hit me like a wave, but I forced myself closer, gripping the edge of the door. With one hard pull, I ripped it off its hinges, tossing it aside.

I leaned in, peering through the choking smoke and flames. The cabin was filled with burning seats, charred remains of pies smoldering in the back, but no sign of Gideon.

"He's not here," I called over the crackling of the fire.

"W-What do you mean?" Judy's voice wavered with both fear and confusion.

I stepped back from the van, my shirt stained with soot. "He's not in the van. No sign of him."

Judy's face paled as she exchanged a worried look with Nick. "Where is he, then? He couldn't have just disappeared..."

************

11/12

************

We called the fire department to put out the flames. Meanwhile, the three of us took out our flashlights and searched the area, hoping to find any sign of Gideon. But there were no footprints, no claw marks—nothing. Once the fire truck arrived, the crew of beavers quickly extinguished the flames, leaving behind a charred van that was no longer pink.

Even after inspecting the wreckage, there was no clear evidence pointing to what exactly caused the fire. One of the tires had allegedly popped, but that was all we could gather. There wasn't anything else to suggest what led to the accident—if it even was an accident.

Later that night, I found Judy at her cubicle in the station. She was sniffling, tears welling in her eyes as she filled out a new missing mammal case file for her friend Gideon. Drops of her tears fell onto the paper, smudging the ink. Nick sat beside her, holding her close and offering comfort.

"It's gonna be okay, Carrots," he assured her gently, squeezing her paw.

"We're going to find him," I promised, standing in the doorway.

Judy nodded, her silent grief weighing heavily in the air. "We're gonna find both of them."

That night, I stayed in my office, using the couch as a makeshift bed. I could've driven home, but I needed to remain here until this case was solved. Charity called to check in, asking how work was going. I kept it simple, not wanting her to worry. I tried to sound optimistic, convincing myself that tomorrow might be a better day for the ZPD. After all, things tend to work out eventually in Zootopia.

Tomorrow's another day...

But when morning came, so did the terrible news. More mammals had gone missing overnight. Like us, the other officers who'd uncovered promising clues found that those leads had vanished as well. Disappearances were happening everywhere: from their homes, on their way to work, at their kid's graduation, even in the driver's seat of a car—or, in our case, a burning van. We had no idea what was going on, nor did we feel ready for it. What started as fourteen missing mammals had climbed to twenty-six—nearly double from the day before.

In the briefing room, Chief Bogo gave us new orders.

"I want teams of four patrolling every major district from here on out. No exceptions. If these disappearances are connected, they're happening fast, and we need to cover more ground. I want full sweeps of every neighborhood. Talk to every civilian, check every corner. No stone goes unturned."

That's when Officer Wolfard was assigned to our team. His precise hypersensitive smelling and hearing should prove substantial for these missing mammal cases. The four of us were now working together on two separate missing mammal cases.

Yet, despite our best efforts, we didn't find anything promising. Every lead led us to a dead end—or worse, they simply weren't there. All we found were remnants of them: a strand of polar bear fur, an article of torn clothing, or someone's last meal still simmering on the stovetop. It was as if they had been plucked from their lives mid-action, leaving only faint traces behind.

None of it made sense. We couldn't connect the dots because there were no dots to connect. No footprints, no claw marks, and not a single scent Wolfard could track. Local bystanders, who might've witnessed something, were gone by the time we arrived. It felt like we were chasing ghosts.

By the time we regrouped, the count had risen to forty-eight missing mammals—the same number of hours that had passed since the first incident.

For one of the recent missing mammal cases, Nick was reviewing the jam-cam footage for a promising lead—a mouse construction worker and his coworkers, who had gone missing that same afternoon.

"You know, if I were making a lumber delivery like our buddy here, I'd use the maintenance sub-tunnel 3C, which would put them right about..." Nick paused dramatically as he toggled to the next footage, expecting a breakthrough. But the realization sank in, and his expression fell. "Huh... never mind."

We all sat in silence, staring at the screen. The footage showed nothing but an empty tunnel leading out of the precinct.

Judy shook her head, baffled. "That's so weird... where could they've possibly gone?"

Nick let out a tired sigh. "I don't know, Carrots. I don't know."

Wolfard took the mouse and keypad. "The footage has to be corrupted or something—there's no other explanation."

I shook my head, exasperated. It's not the footage. We've checked, double-checked. The cameras were working fine. Yet, nothing was adding up.

To make matters worse, Officers Delgato, Fangmeyer, Grizzoli, Krumpanski never came back from their night shift. After over 24 hours of radio silence, they were declared missing. We tracked down their police cruisers, only to find them empty and abandoned—doors left wide open, as if they'd vanished into thin air.

The pattern continued throughout the day. More officers and civilians went missing, particularly those who were sent to find others. Judy, Nick, Wolfard, and I kept our guard up, never leaving each other's sight. We knew that any one of us could disappear at any moment if we weren't careful.

By the next morning, the bullpen was at half capacity, with empty seats scattered around like reminders of those who were gone.

Nick squeezed her paw, keeping her close. "We'll figure it out, Carrots. We always do."

Chief Bogo took the podium, his frustration barely contained. "I don't want anyone working alone. Not after what's happened. The stakes are too high—we need answers, now!"

Things were getting chaotic at the ZPD. We were short-staffed, exhausted, and surrounded by civilians demanding answers. News crews swarmed outside, amplifying the chaos. Despite my irritation with the lights, cameras, and reporters, I couldn't blame them either.

By noon, missing mammal posters blanketed the entire lobby. Missing, Missing, Missing. The count had reached eighty-seven.

Judy's eyes widened as she took it all in. "Oh, sweet cheese and crackers."

Even Nick had fallen silent, something I'd rarely seen.

The four of us stood there, stunned as Chief Bogo dealt with back-to-back phone calls and updates from City Hall. While we waited outside his office on the upper floor, we looked down at the sea of desperate mammals gathered on the main floor.

For over an hour, we listened to their shouts, their frantic cries.

"What is going on?

"How is this happening?"

"Where is my mom and dad?"

"Why is this happening?"

We all felt helpless—Judy, Nick, Wolfard, and me. We wanted to get out there, to search, to do something. But without a plan, without any solid leads, we were stuck.

As Bogo opened the door to his office, the crowd grew more agitated by the second. Officers Francine, Clawhauser, and McHorn tried their best to keep the crowd at bay near the stairwell, but a few smaller mammals managed to push their way through.

"Chief Bogo, please!" A female otter broke free from the crowd, rushing up to Bogo's office door. "Five minutes of your time, please!"

Her husband was right behind her.

"Mr. and Mrs. Otterton?" Judy's eyes widened in surprise.

Despite nearing his breaking point, Chief Bogo managed to address her calmly. "Ma'am, as I've told you, we're doing everything we can."

Mrs. Otterton held out a family photo: her, her husband, and their two otter children, one of them holding a soccer ball. "Our son has been missing for ten days! His name is Joseph Otterton."

Bogo sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. "Yes, I know."

Judy and Nick exchanged a glance, their hearts heavy with sympathy. Judy gently hugged Mrs. Otterton, trying her best to comfort her.

"He's our youngest son," Mr. Otterton sniffled, his voice barely holding together. "He would never just disappear..."

"Sir," Bogo said, softening his tone, "our officers are doing everything they can."

"But... what's being done?" Mr. Otterton asked, his face welling up with tears. "Where are all the officers?"

I felt my own frustration bubbling up. The fact that this was happening to the city all over again was unacceptable. Whoever was behind this would be brought to justice—no matter what. This was not the Zootopia I had come to know and love, but I wasn't going to let it fall apart.

Taking a deep breath, I stood and knelt down to the otter's level, my voice steady and resolute. "Look, I know you're scared, and I know I haven't lived here my whole life, but if there's one thing this city has taught me, it's that there's always hope. There's always light waiting on the other side of the veil of darkness. Zootopia has been through a lot—more than we'd like to admit—and it's going through a lot right now. But every time it does, it comes back even stronger. That's what makes this city great—not because it's perfect, but because it learns, adapts, and unites when things get tough. That's what's happening right now. And I promise you, we will get your son back." I looked over at Judy, Nick, and Wolfard, drawing strength from them. "Together."

Judy's eyes lit up, her spirit renewed. "Whatever it takes."

Nick smirked, feeling a spark of determination. "You wouldn't happen to have a crazy idea in that big head of yours, would you, Furless?"

As a matter of fact, I did. And yes, it was crazy. But given the situation we were in, maybe crazy was exactly what we needed.

************

12/12

************

It was time to change tactics. I called up every mammal I could find—every known mammal who hadn't disappeared yet. Police, civilians, it didn't matter. Friends, acquaintances, coworkers—if they were able, they were in. Together, we were going to solve this case once and for all.

This wasn't just a collection of missing mammal cases anymore. It was one giant, interconnected case, and we were going to crack it wide open. The city was depending on it.

Despite our differences, every mammal I reached out to showed up, ready to serve Zootopia. The razorbacks, Jay Howl, Mr. Big's polar bears, Jack Savage, Skye Winter, the Crimson Paw, the rest of the ZPD officers—and whoever else I could find. Even the Maned Wolf.

"I know we've never gotten along," I admitted, looking him in the eye, "but I need your help. Zootopia needs your help."

Setting aside his grievances with me, the Maned Wolf nodded. "I will help you. Just this one time, though."

I bowed my head in gratitude. "It's all we need... and it's the most important time."

He agreed to meet us at the station, and soon after, the razorbacks arrived, their leader, Mr. Tusk, at the helm. It was a little awkward, seeing them at the ZPD, especially considering their history of raiding the place, but they kept their word.

Mr. Tusk placed his hoof on my shoulder. "It'll be an honor to serve alongside you, brother."

I smiled, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder in return. That's when I saw the silhouette of a bunny and a fox standing behind them in the doorway.

"Reformed criminals and field agents working together now, are we?" Jack Savage stood with his arms crossed, his voice carrying an air of skepticism as he glanced at the razorbacks.

"Nothing like a little variety to spice up our mission, eh?" Skye Winter smirked, giving her bunny partner a playful wink.

The bunny agent slowly exhaled. "I suppose this is bigger than all of us."

Jack slowly exhaled, clearly not as amused as his partner. "I suppose this mission is bigger than all of us."

Within forty-eight hours, we had assembled a massive team of mammals in the ZPD lobby—ready to serve their fellow Zootopians. Polar bears, razorbacks, maned wolves, foxes, bunnies, cheetahs—the list went on. What we had wasn't just a task force; we had created a united front. No small groups, no divisions—just one big team with a single focus: finding every missing mammal. All eighty-nine of them.

By 1800 hours, we would begin our city-wide sweep, district by district. But the big question remained—where exactly to start?

We wouldn't have known if it weren't for a kind elderly caribou couple who came into the station one morning, bringing in two objects they'd found on their morning stroll.

"Okay, so you brought us a discarded walnut shell," I remarked, flicking the item aside. "That doesn't help us."

"Wait," Judy interjected, scooping the object back up. "It's not a walnut shell. Look closer."

Nick nudged me with a grin. "That, my friend, is a construction helmet."

Indeed, it was—a very tiny helmet, designed specifically for a rodent. My eyes drifted to the case file on the counter, remembering the missing mouse construction worker we'd been searching for.

"Where'd you find this?" I asked the caribou couple.

"We found it buried in the snow, just north of Tundra Town, west side of Bergshire Street."

This was the first object we'd recovered outside the original scenes of disappearances so far. Odd as it was, it was promising.

"There's more," the female caribou added, pulling a pink, partially frozen cloth from her purse and handing it carefully to Judy.

Judy's eyes widened. "Oh, sweet cheese and crackers," she breathed, exchanging a look with Nick. "This... this is Gideon Grey's apron!"

The logo and plaid colors were faded and torn, with one strap missing.

"Where'd you find this one?" Nick asked, his tone urgent. "Tundra Town, I'm guessing?"

The caribou nodded. "Same area, just about fifty yards away."

We exchanged glances, realizing what these clues meant. The missing mammals were likely somewhere in Tundra Town's northern reaches. But Tundra Town was vast; even if we'd narrowed it by 75%, it was still a huge area. Inspired by the northern location of these objects, we printed a detailed map of the quadrant, marking all familiar locations with a red X. But something caught our eyes—the unmarked, blank areas, the places that hadn't seen a search.

"There's nothing here," I murmured, my finger tracing a wide expanse. "Just mountains."

Judy leaned in, studying the map intently. "Maybe the missing mammals are outside city limits by now?"

"Maybe..." Nick replied, his brow furrowed. "But something's fishy about this whole region."

We dug deeper. Old city plans in the City Hall archives showed faint outlines of buildings from decades ago, now hidden or forgotten. We pored over the maps together, our minds slowly coming to the same conclusion.

"That leaves only one place..." I said, pointing at a distant, uncharted location on the northern edge.

It was a place we'd all seen up in the far mountains at some point, though it barely crossed our minds: an old, abandoned warehouse in the farthest reaches of Tundra Town. Technically outside the city limits, it was cold, isolated, and forgotten—a relic standing untouched for over fifty years. No one ever had a reason to go there... until now.

At this point, what did we have to lose?

We unanimously agreed that we'd begin our search tonight—at the old warehouse in the farthest reaches of Tundra Town, along the distant mountainside. It wasn't just cold. It was desolate. But we had to be strong, summon our courage, and find out if that place held the answers we were desperately searching for. We had to know for sure.

Before heading into the icy wilderness beyond the city limits, I returned home to gather a few things. As I stood in my room, I found myself dusting off an old box from under the bed, one I hadn't touched in years. I pulled off the lid, unveiling something I had hoped to forget.

My old armor.

The chestplate, pauldrons, helmet, gauntlets, and boots—all laid out before me, remnants of a life I thought I'd left behind. I stared at the helmet's glowing blue eyeslits, feeling a haunting of my past sweep over me. That armor had once defined me. It was a reminder of my days as a soldier, of battles fought, of lives lost. Might it not send the best message?

Still, I shrugged those thoughts aside. This mission was too important. We didn't know what we were up against. If we were to find the missing mammals, we might face resistance. Tranquilizer darts, harpoons, tasers—who knows what the animals responsible would get their filthy paws on. I couldn't risk being unprepared. It wasn't exactly the best message to send, but animals must know we mean business. Whether we're met with barks, growls, or claws, at least we'd be ready for any real resistance.

One by one, I fitted the cold, heavy armor to my body. It didn't feel right—it felt foreign, stiff, like a relic from another world. But it was necessary. I couldn't afford to leave anything to chance.

Once suited up, I coordinated with the Pawts Family, the Howl Family, and the Hopps family to ensure they stayed together—at least until we found the missing mammals and locked up whoever was responsible. The disappearances seemed to happen only when mammals were isolated, so I urged the families to stay in Melody Springs. Safety in numbers, far away from the city where they'd be protected.

"But Cherry," Cody protested over the phone. "I want to help."

"I don't want your help," I told him firmly. "I want you safe."

I made sure they included Cody and his family in the safety plan. He was like a little brother to me, and I wanted him to be surrounded by a protective family. Even though he was a jackal, I knew the Pawts family would welcome him as one of their own.

The Pawts family graciously opened their home to the Howl and Hopps families as well. Sure, it would be crowded for a few days, but better than risking their lives. I worked out the details with Judy Hopps, ensuring everyone had what they needed to stay safe.

But above all, I needed Charity to be safe.

With all my tactical gear ready, I drove to the Pawts family home to see Charity again—the love and joy of my life. I wanted to be with her before the task force and I plunged into the unknown.

The sky had turned a shade of deep gray as I arrived at the Pawts family home. Charity was waiting for me outside, her eyes reflecting both love and worry.

"Is everyone together?" I asked, my voice steady but strained.

Charity nodded, her eyes soft and reassuring. "We're all here. Safe and together."

"And Charley?" I pressed, needing to hear it.

Her smile grew warmer. "He's here with us. He's safe."

Relief washed over me, and I bowed my head, a soft smile tugging at my lips. "That's good."

Charity stepped closer, wrapping her arms around me and resting her head against my chest. "We're all here, waiting for you, amor."

I looked down, struggling with the weight of the situation. "I have to go back." 

She gasped, her amber eyes widening, a flicker of disbelief in them.

"I've assembled a large task force - fellow officers, friends, everyone I could find." I explained. "We're going in to get the missing mammals."

Charity's grip on my hand tightened, her voice a mix of worry and determination. "I should come with you."

"No, not this time," I shook my head gently. "It's too dangerous. I need you to stay here where it's safe—with your family. They need you."

"But..." Her voice trembled, cracking with emotion. "I don't want you to leave."

I pulled her into my arms, feeling her warmth against me, her small body trembling. "If I don't go back, these disappearances will keep getting worse."

She buried her face into my chest, her sobs shaking her entire frame. "I have a bad feeling about this... I don't know why, but I'm scared, Cherry."

I gently wiped a tear from her cheek, cupping her face in my hand. "I know," I whispered, "but I have to go. This is something I need to do."

Her lips quivered, her voice breaking. "Why does it have to be you? Can't someone else go? Please... stay here with me."

"Sweetie...," I reached out to her, my heart aching at the sight of her tears. "This is something I have to do. This world has been good to me—Zootopia has been good to me. Now it's time for me to return the favor."

Her tears spilled freely now, soaking into my chest. "But I need you," she sobbed, clutching at my shirt. "I can't lose you... I can't."

I pulled her in closer, feeling her small frame tremble against me, our breaths mingling as I tried to keep my own emotions in check. "Everything's going to be okay."

"You promise?" she whispered, her amber eyes searching mine, filled with hope.

"Cross my heart," I said, my voice thick with emotion.

Her lips curved into a fragile smile, even as the tears continued to fall.

"I'm so glad I came to this world." I whispered, pulling her close again. "I never would've made it without you, Charity. You saved me," My voice cracked, and I could no longer hold back. "You are my world. You are the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I'm so happy to have you in my life."

Her sobs deepened, and I felt her tears soak into my chest. "Cherry..." she breathed, her voice breaking.

I smiled, a tear rolling down my face. "I love you, Charity. I love you so much."

Charity cried, holding me closer to her. "I love you too, Cherry."

We stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, holding on as if we could stop time itself. I could feel the depth of her love, her hope, and her fears, all wrapped up in this one fragile moment. The warmth of her fur pressed against me, and I found myself drawing strength from her presence, from the quiet courage that radiated from her even as she trembled in my arms.

Then, without another word, I cupped her face in my hands, gently brushing away her tears with my thumbs. She gazed up at me, her amber eyes glistening with love and unspoken words. Slowly, I leaned in, and our lips met—a silent confession of everything we felt. Her arms tightened around my neck, pulling me closer, and I held her as though I could fuse our hearts into one.

Our passion deepened, the world around us fading away until there was only the soft, steady rhythm of our breaths. Her fingers tangled in my hair, her touch grounding me, while I held her as if letting go might shatter us both. The moment was raw and powerful, filled with every unspoken promise and every hope we had for each other.

When we finally parted, our foreheads rested together, our breaths mingling, her warm tears still trailing down her cheeks.

"Please... come back to me," she whispered, her voice a fragile plea.

"I will," I promised, even as the weight of uncertainty loomed over us both.

She held my hand with her paw as long as she could, not wanting to let go.

With one last lingering look, I pulled away and walked toward the car, Charity's gaze never leaving me. She was such a beautiful, wonderful coyote. As I drove off, the image of her tear-streaked face stayed with me, carving a heavy ache deep into my chest.

The long drive back to Zootopia was the most emotionally difficult journey I'd ever made. I couldn't stop thinking about Charity—about her warmth, her love. I already missed her, part of me wanting to turn the car around, to run away from everything and stay by her side forever. But I couldn't. If I did, she and her family would be in danger. We had to put an end to the largest missing mammal case in the history of Zootopia before it was too late.

I regrouped with our assembled task force at the ZPD—the razorbacks, the remaining officers including Judy and Nick, ZBI agents Jack and Skye, and a few other strong civilians like Jay Howl.

Before we ventured into the unknown, through the cold, dark blizzard, Jay insisted on leading a short prayer. I nodded, figuring it couldn't hurt. In the howling wind, his words were faint but clear in purpose: a plea for finding the missing mammals, for returning them to their families, and for each of us to come home safely.

"Alright, let's move out," I commanded, putting on my helmet, hopefully for the last time.

With my eyes shielded from the storm, the freezing wind still pierced every exposed inch of skin, especially the neck, arms, and fingers. But I pushed forward, steeling myself against the harsh elements. Unlike my animal companions, I didn't have fur; just a scarf, that had already blown away in the relentless gusts. Regardless, I toughed it out, my senses on high alert.

We drove as far as the snow-laden roads allowed until a wall of snow blocked our path. From there, we trudged on foot through the blizzard, which beat down on us relentlessly, forcing us to pause more than once as we pressed forward.

The snow deepened as we passed the mountainside, each step a battle against the biting wind. Nick, visibly shivering, offered his coat to Judy.

"Keep it," she smiled, shrugging it off. "You need it more than I do."

The fox gave a grateful nod, pulling his coat tighter before putting an arm around her for shared warmth. Despite the cold, they managed a small smile between them.

"How much farther?" an officer yelled through the gusts.

"Yeah, I'm freezing my tail off here," another called out.

"Not far—at least, according to this map." I squinted, struggling to read the faded text.

"Don't we have a GPS?"

"There's no signal out here," Judy replied, tapping her device to no avail. "And besides, this place is completely off the books."

"Yeah, I can see why..." Wolfard muttered, glancing at the forbidding landscape.

Nick was quick to voice his complaint. "I mean, I'm not complaining or anything... maybe a little, but...how do we know they're even out here?"

"We don't," Judy was willing to admit. "But we have to keep going. It's the only way we'll know for sure."

"She's right," I agreed. "The clock is ticking. This might be our only chance."

"The m-missing mammals would do the s-same for us." Jay added, remaining optimistic.

We pressed on, trudging through waist-deep snow that turned what should have been a quick walk into nearly half an hour. The biting cold seeped into our bones, and every step was a battle against the relentless storm.

Judy suddenly winced, her foot catching on something sharp buried beneath the snow. She bent down, brushing away the powder to uncover the object.

"What you got there, Carrots?" Nick called, turning back.

Her ears flattened as she lifted a small, rusted metal shape.

Nick stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "Is that...?"

"It's a badge," she murmured, voice tight with realization. She rubbed off more snow, revealing a faint but unmistakable ZPD engraving.

"A badge?" I echoed, moving in to examine the piece. Despite the rust, it was unmistakably issued by the ZPD.

"Who d-does it belong to?" Jay asked, his voice carrying the shared apprehension of the group.

Judy's expression darkened, her ears drooping back. "It's Officer McHorn's."

A silence fell over us, broken only by the howl of the wind. We exchanged glances, a shared understanding settling in.

"Stay sharp," I ordered. "We're getting close."

With renewed determination, we pushed forward, the storm swirling around us as we moved toward the looming shadow ahead. The faint outline of an old chain-link fence appeared through the white haze, its metal rusted and twisted by time. With numb fingers, I tore an opening through the fence, and one by one, we passed through, eyes locked on the dark shape of the abandoned structure in the distance.

The warehouse itself was a skeleton of weathered steel—no windows, no doors, just a bleak, forgotten frame standing desolate in the snow. Built decades ago, it bore the mark of old Zootopian design, a relic from long before any of us were born. It loomed like a shadow from a bygone era, swallowed up by snow and time.

We entered a large room within the abandoned warehouse, dimly lit by the fading natural light from the raging snowstorm outside. This place had no electricity due to it being abandoned for so long. The howling wind outside rattled the metal structure, filling the air with eerie creaks and groans. Flurries of snow whirled around us, sneaking through gaps in the walls, and we raised our arms against the biting chill. As we pressed forward, the beam of my flashlight revealed rows of rusty shipping containers lining the far side of the room.

Splitting into small, tight groups, we moved cautiously, each of us scanning the containers. Flashlights cut through the shadows as we approached the doors, checking each one in turn. One after another, they stood empty—dark, barren, and abandoned. My hopes sank with each container we opened. But as I rounded the far corner of the room, I saw a larger container standing alone. It was the only one with a chain hooked around it.

I waved Judy and Nick over. "Come check this out," I said, nodding toward the container.

Together, we approached, and as we drew near, faint sounds reached our ears—murmurs, soft whimpers, even a low moan. The three of us froze, listening. Judy's face paled.

"No, it can't be..." she whispered, her voice tight with apprehension.

Moving closer, I leaned in, peering through a narrow window on the storage container. My heart tightened at the sight.

"It's them..." I whispered, swallowing hard. "They're all here."

Judy and Nick both peaked inside, using a nearby pile of wooden crates. Pressed against one another in the small, dark space, were countless mammals. They were huddled together, exhausted, thin, their fur matted, their eyes dull from hunger and cold.

Nick's eyes widened as he seemed stumped. "Well, hallelujah."

"Is everyone okay?" Judy asked, shining her dim flashlight on the mammals inside.

None of them spoke. All they gave her were blank, traumatized stares. A tear came streaming down Judy's face as she watched them in despair. She slowly shined her flashlight on them one by one, stopping on one particular mammal.

"...Gideon?" she called out to him.

He didn't respond to her. He was nearly unrecognizable, having lost a significant amount of body weight. Like the others, his clothes were tattered and torn, the once bright colors now covered in dark grime.

Seeing all the missing mammals together like this was a depressing scene.

"We need to get them out of there!" Mr. Tusk called urgently.

I looked around for anything we could use to open the container door.

"Here, take this," the maned wolf passed me an old pair of bolt cutters.

I took them, cutting at the thick chains as fast as I could. My hands shook slightly with the cold and urgency, but the sight of those desperate faces kept me going.

With a forceful shove, I broke the locking mechanism, pulling the door until it caught against another heavy chain. Shining our lights inside, Judy gasped beside me. Dozens of mammals staring blankly at the floor with their heads hung low, their eyes wide and filled with fear. Some were too weak to stand, others clung to one another for warmth, their bodies trembling.

"Who...who did this?" Judy's voice cracked, her anger barely contained.

"We'll figure that out later. Let's just get them home first," I managed, cutting through the final chain. The container door swung open, and the mammals surged forward.

But instead of gratefully approaching, they bolted past us in a frenzy, eyes wide with terror. A few pointed at me, shouting as they fled.

"No, stay back!" a tattered wolf cried, his voice raw with panic.

"Get away!"

"Monster!" a zebra lady gasped, her eyes locked on me in horror.

"Run! He's going to kill us all!" another voice screamed from the crowd.

I took a step back, stunned. "Wait, what...?" I tried to make sense of it, their faces blurring past as they escaped into the storm.

Nick raised his paws in disbelief, his eyebrows furrowing. "Well, that's a twist. I mean, we just saved you guys!"

"Why are they running away?" Judy looked between them, bewildered.

I scoffed, a bit disheartened but trying to brush it off. "Must be some kind of cruel joke."

As I scanned around the warehouse, I felt something painfully splatter against the side of my neck. When I touched the thick ooze running down my fingers, I saw that it was some sort of... blue liquid?

"What's this?" I chuckled in disbelief. "A paintball gun?"

But as I looked back at Judy and Nick, their eyes were wide, filled with unspeakable horror. That's when I knew something was wrong. Suddenly, my entire body felt like it was rapidly transforming from the inside... as if a dark entity were taking over...