While Nicholas Wilde had never exactly expected to live a very long life, he hadn't really anticipated staring death in the face at the age of thirty-three. It was a cool and dim February afternoon that he and Judy Hopps had responded to a call regarding a manic bull. For a moment, they thought it was a rogue night howler situation again, but when they had heard the bull screaming profanity and strange verses, they breathed more easily.
It wasn't the first time that Officers Hopps and Wilde had had to take on much larger perps. But they were also painfully aware that it was never easy. That day, it was a horned auburn coated bovine called a betizu. Because of the creature's body mass and tough hide, it took a while for their tranq darts to take effect. They were in the process of calling for backup when the bull charged. Nick and Judy leaped out of the way. Possibly drawn to the vivid red of Nick's fur, the bull snapped his head at the fox.
Nick didn't even feel the horn impaling his chest. It actually felt like one of Judy's jabs—except that Judy was about six feet away from him and screaming in horror even as she shot a few more darts at the bull. As if on instinct, Nick grasped the part of the horn sticking out of his chest. Nick realized too late that he should have let go of it when the bull tossed his head, causing the horn to withdraw and then stab him a second time. Another toss of the bull's head, and the fox was flying and then falling.
Nick only felt the pain when he had landed on the floor. He heard the blood splattering from the exit wound on his back, felt the hot liquid soaking his fur and his uniform. Crying out, he brought his paws to his chest and felt the blood pouring from the sickeningly deep wound.
"I'm here, Nick. I got you." Judy looked as scared as he felt. Then, Nick looked around him. Fangmeyer and Wolford were carrying the bull to their own cruiser.
It hurt to breathe. He felt cold. He tasted blood and felt it filling his throat. "Carrots …"
It was surreal to lay there helplessly while coughing up blood. Part of him wondered if this was a nightmare he was eventually going to wake up from. Then, Fangmeyer and Wolford came to help Judy. Nick focused on the stripes on Fangmeyer's face for a moment—something to concentrate on, to draw his attention away from the pain—while the tigress tore his bloody uniform open. Fangmeyer looked horrified at the sight of the wound. Nick also heard Judy gasp and whimper. Nick tried to keep focusing on Fangmeyer's stripes, but the pain intensified while Wolford and the two ladies rolled him onto his side and treated his wounds. Nick couldn't even scream, just grimace and reach for Judy, who held his trembling paw.
The panic set in when his vision lost focus and his hearing became muffled. He was shivering violently, both from the fear and the strange cold that had taken hold of his body. Nick tried to tell himself that he was in good company, but it was difficult to be scared when he could taste his own blood and was practically drowning in it. Each inhale was as painful as a new stab in his chest. "I'm here, Nick," she said as she squeezed his paw. "We're all here for you."
He looked at Judy's face. Her cute bunny face was set in concentration while they waited for the paramedics to arrive. He tried to squeeze her paw but found he had little strength left. Judy—she had barged into his life and transformed it forever. There were so many things he wanted to say—so many things he still wanted to do with her. Perhaps it was enough to hold her paw like this.
His eyes welled with tears with his affection for her. Nick shut his eyes and endured the pain to try to breathe. He saw Judy cringing as she heard his shuddering gasps. Nick blinked and focused on Judy's brilliant violet eyes—perpetually filled with hope and wonder—idealism she had restored in him. Feeling her soft white palm in his paw, Nick felt thankful that he was going to die an honorable cop, not the shifty hustler that he had been for twenty years.
In one moment of clarity, Nicholas Wilde knew he was ready. "Judy," he whispered, "I love you." Certain that he was at the end of his life, Nick had chosen his last words. There was no better way to leave the world than letting Judy know he loved her without the shroud of humor—just naked, blood-and-guts truth. He was determined to go out having gotten it off his chest.
Judy face crumpled. "I love you, Nick," she mewled. She looked like she was going to say something else, but nothing came out except an anguished cry. Wolford pulled her aside and took Judy's place trying to slow down the bleeding. "No goodbyes, Wilde," he warned. "You're gonna stay and keep saying that to her, alright, buddy?"
The last thing Nick saw was Judy sobbing as Fangmeyer held her.