Author's Note:

Hello all! Apologies for getting this out so late (I won't bore you with my 'why's), but I do have a good chunk of the next chapter already written, so I aim to post Loyal 4 soon. That said, enjoy!


Dawn broke; a thousand bunnies stirred within the Hopps farmhouse to begin the rolling shifts of washing up for breakfast, breakfast itself, and then the cleanup of breakfast, all in preparation for the day's assignments and allotments of chores and privileges, respectively. Per custom, farm-rabbits bathed and/or showered at night so that the sullied water could be recycled and purified for crops, and also to squeeze every drop of sunlight out of a day as soon as they awoke. Mornings, usually as soon as the sun peeked over the horizon, allowed for the washing of paws, faces, ears, and other such sensitive areas as necessary, and as efficiently as possible (also assuming that, as bunnies are apt to do, shoot the breeze). Timing and synchronicity were crucial to such finely-oiled machinery, and while not as exact as their city-bunny counterparts, the Hoppses were no deviants when it came to familial routine.

Washing and eating areas were set aside (including a ration of water, soap/scent-freshener, porridge, peanut butter on whole wheat toast, sugar, and coffee) as an exception for Burrow Watch members/relatives bunking with the Hoppses during the TBR; Bo Briar, for example. They received duties from the Watch leader, Mr. Payton Barley, not the Hopps patriarch (barring extraneous circumstances), and so were unbeholden to the same schedule as the rest of the household. However, Bo was still up with the sun and ready to take on the day; as was Judy.

Most if not all of the bedrooms were covered wall-to-wall with sleeping visitors, so when Judy and Bo got in as late as they did the night prior they received two bedrolls, sheets, pillows, and a blanket to hunker down for the night in a remote room of the house (since Judy's usual room was occupied by those that could be bothered to show up in a timely manner). Per the norm, Bo was bashful seeing Judy first thing in the morning, and he never failed to smile in such a way to express the sentiment, likewise, Judy never failed to find it endearing, considering how infrequently the opportunity presented itself. Even so, they kissed good morning and rolled up the sleeping arrangements before utilizing different washing areas, he with the Watch and she with her female or very young relations. Bo quietly beamed all the while as he gathered up a small tub, a towel, a stool and other such washing implements at the expansive bathing area.

"Briar!" somebunny called.

Bo's spirit plateaued as he sighed his response, "Thistlemore."

"So," said the fellow Watch member, a rabbit boasting slate patches and a circular notch missing from an ear, but more importantly, a holier-than-thou attitude, "Mr. Barley's deemed you 'necessary' to keeping an eye on The Brambles while the Knotash bunnies are still there."

"Did he?" chimed the larger, browner rabbit, holding his assorted items to his stomach with one paw, while the other braced his waist, "Fancy that."

Thistlemore paid the smug brow and smirk with an unimpressed frown, "It's almost as if it were suggested to him last night, but I suppose you wouldn't know anything about that."

The broad shoulders shrugged in good humor, "He likely concluded of his own volition that I have the most experience in dealing with Zootopian foxes, seeing how well I worked with them yesterday. Or… maybe I asked him forthrightly and politely to assign me to the… what was the name I heard, 'trickster'?"

Slate fur bristled with an audible thumping of the foot, "You just watch yourself, Briar, I was there when those ravens condemned Nick Wilde yesterday… I about had a heart attack when I heard he made a deal with those feathery specters… it ain't right."

"Nic," consoled Bo, "I understand that the ravens called you out, too, but luck affects foxes differently than rabbits, you know that, plus he also works with wolves, so of course he can deal with ravens. And, foxes have a… a sort of protection from curses, right?"

"Then it's a wonder you were assigned to him at all!" he about spat with a backhanded swat at the air. The washing area fell grimly silent save the drip of water from doused fur, for a bunny born "cursed" was no light topic of conversation, and no joking matter. Nic's glower matched Bo's, if retracting for wholly awkward reasons, ears pinning back as he noticed all other ears pointed at him. "I'm sorry," he said sternly, quietly, "that was uncalled for."

Regular scrubbing and rinsing resumed, and then Bo smiled cordially to clap the slate back, "Let's wash up, we've both got big days ahead of us." Since either rabbit was already disrobed, they filled up their own smaller tubs from a spigot and sat in a circle around a drain to commence the lathering. Amidst the idle chatter around them, Bo poised a question: "Alright, what's wrong?"

Nic took some time to respond as he scrubbed deep into the fur of his arm, "I'm just flabbergasted, is all," he admitted, "Things are diff'rent out in Oklahorna City. We've got rabbits, mice, prairie dogs, buffalo, foxes, pumas… but I'm here in Bunnyburrow less than a week, and I see a platypus! She was checking out a stain-glass mobile at a vendor, like it was the most normal thing in the world… I felt awful for staring-"

"That ain't it," Bo casually corrected, smuggly grinning as he propped a large foot onto his knee to get between the toes.

The slate rabbit blinked in his stunned state, looking about at some of the other Watch members before addressing the larger rabbit again, "Excuse you? I think I would know what 'it' is or ain't, Briar."

Brown shoulders shook in a chuckle, "It's written all over your face. Now, I know the farms in Oklahorna City makes Bunnyburrow's look like a window box, and sure, you don't have as many biomes out in the middle of the country as we do here in Zootopian territory, so that's plenty of reason to be short. But I think what's really diff'rent is all the mingling of species. You probably have your rabbit community, your buffalo community, and your puma community, but I'd wager my lucky foot that they don't interact too much."

"We interact plenty-"

"Outside of anything official," Bo specified, and then continued as Nic took his time to recalculate, "No shame in it; Zootopia's one of the biggest, most diverse cities in the world that promotes open relations between species, after all, both on a macro and micro level, but I get that it doesn't sit well with everyone," he grinned, and then handed his sponge over, "Would you mind getting my back? It's too much of a reach for me…"

"I mean…" argued Thistlemore, pivoting to face Bo's presented expanse, sponge in paw and firmly scrubbing as he conversed, "Us rabbits meet with the buffalo and the mice regularly, same with the prairie dogs. I met with the raccoons once, and… saw the pumas, but not too closely…" he then leaned in to whisper, "I'll admit, I was a bit surprised to see that the deputy here is a puma…"

"And the foxes?" asked a smirking Bo, glancing over his shoulder.

"Nuh-uh," he grunted, "Not one-on-one, anyway or… y'know, snout-to-snout."

"Dealing with foxes is like keeping bees," input a nearby, older rabbit, "If you didn't put them where they are, then you leave them well enough alone, but either way, don't you turn your ear away from them for too long."

"And it's best to let the hares take care of them," said another in jest, eliciting a round of quiet laughter from the other members of the Watch.

Bo's ears folded back, face contorting as the gears in his noggin churned, and then he felt Thistlemore 'okay' his back by evacuating its abundance of suds with a quick rinse. After turning inward to the other Burrow Watch members and the drain they encircled Bo slid forward into a squat and continued scrubbing, "Or better yet, bears!" he declared.

"Now, let's not get ahead of ourselves…"

"No one keeps bees like bears do, though," argued Bo.

"I think you might be missing the point of an analogy, Briar."

"On the contrary," said a grinning brown rabbit, "are not the Tenets rife with stories of Fox and Bear?"

An older member groaned speculatively, "The young buck brings up a valid point," he admitted, "If the 'bees' are Fox's many tricks, is not the wise Bear best suited against them?"

"Indeed," agreed another, and continued to a general consensus, "It'd be better to have preds keeping an eye on preds, and bears are very large."

"Indeed," repeated Bo, to which he baited, "It rarely works out quite like we hope, though…" and received smattering agreement as he sat back on his stool.

"After all, Bear is often outfoxed," coined another rabbit, "No point in weathering their tricks if tricked is all you'll be."

"And any attempts to outfox a fox ends in the worst luck," warned another still.

"That's true," Bo openly pondered, "So it might be better that, if an eye or ear must be kept on a fox, it is does done without the assumption that they are in any one place?"

"Transient mammals, they," somebunny concurred, and then quoted, "'The only thing you'll catch more than once of a fox is sight of them'."

"Perhaps ocelots or rhinos are better suited to watch foxes, then? One is keen of sight, and the other keen of smell, but neither is keen on trickery."

A brown chin was rubbed in thought, "It might need to be someone clever enough to go toe-to-toe them."

"Briar," he was chastised, "Foxes are not outfoxed, and misfortune stalks all who try."

He then glanced with a grin to the slate rabbit sitting adjacent, "But don't the interchangeable Hare and Rabbit of the Tenets trick Bear as often as Fox has?" and received another smattering of agreement, if laced with disapproval.

"Ergo," Thistlemore inferred, "there is no better foil to foxes than rabbits?" A momentary discussion bubbled up around the circle of lathered Watch members.

Bo hummed thoughtfully, "That might very well be the case, but do you mean that rabbits are better served by directly associating with foxes?" he asked, and to the pinned-back ears, promptly continued, "After all, that is how bunnies create bonds - which we do very well, in fact - and there's no stronger bond created than the trust of a fox; which is right difficult to earn, ain't that right, Thistlemore?"

"I… that is, well… yes?"

"Speaking of, I've got my assignment to get to," said Bo in a cordial smile, reaching over to clap the slate back as he stood and gathered up his effects, leaving the conversation that ensued in the capable paws of the rabbit from Oklahorna City.


After a waking kiss shared with Bo, Judy swept off towards the washing area with which she was most familiar, greeting and greeted by extended and immediate family members alike. It was amongst her nieces, aunts, female cousins and toddling relatives that Judy basked in the sweet bedlam of morning wash, and so picked up on the rumor mill's "heat", as caused by Monday's hubbub. No one really had the straight story on the subject, much to Judy's overwhelming relief (but chagrin that others seemed to walk on eggshells around her), so braided as it was with hearsay, speculation, exaggeration, and outright misinformation; whether Tad Wooler peeped on predator families, sacrificed small snakes and birds to some unholy devil, or ran a black-market for ritzy tableware was anyone's guess.

Since her own scrubbing was quick (something she had to concede was that Knotash baths were unparalleled, in her experience, and would likely last her the week) Judy opted to aid in the surmounting duty of washing the youngest bunnies, those that could not or would not tend to themselves. Those visiting from out of town were caught up on why the news was as important as it was, and she was glad that her own escapades were overshadowed by some her siblings' and cousins': a raspberry-pineapple jam winning first place, assembling a pyramid of bunnies that was taller than the house, wrestling a rattlesnake into submission, and someone catching fire (they lived, and weren't too horribly burnt). What was perhaps her favorite nugget of gossip was hearing about the tractor-pull between Bo and Gideon (of which she only got a brief retelling of).

"You'd've been proud of them both, had you seen them," said Monica, an older sister of Judy's with gray splotches, who was herself more like an aunt in how she talked and acted, "I remember full well how that Grey fox could hardly be seen without two shirts, a sweater, and a jacket, even if it was a hundred degrees out. But there he was, facing up to your Bo in nothing but a pair of jeans and a sly grin. Davey, he was with me at the time, barely believed that was the same Gideon Grey, and I can't say I blame him," she then chuckled while practicing great care to clean the baby bunny in her lap.

"I remember how there were some who speculated as to what his back actually was," snickered Judy, "Fish scales, snakeskin, feathers of all types, wings. What was under all those shirts, anyway?" she asked wryly, tickling at the feet of the toddler she was washing.

"Oh, just fur," Monica said offhandedly.

"Stripes, spots? Maybe quills, I recall hearing…"

"Red fur, like any other fox," came a flat reply, and then a smirking shake of the head and roll of the eyes, "So, how was Knotash? You're so lucky to visit, free of charge. I've priced the houses, and I'll tell you one thing, there's no way I'm getting there in this lifetime," and punctuated her sentiment with a series of disapproving grunts, "But I guess if bunnies there drink-and-drive, it's probably safer out here in the country anyway."

"Monica," admonished Judy, and then said plainly, "That's not funny."

"It wasn't a joke, Judy," she replied, and gingerly pat the baby bunny dry, "I don't think I could forgive him if he crashed with one of my sisters in the car. And you should've taken his keys away; I figured a cop would know better," huffed the older rabbit, and then shook her head, "That Grav's pushed his luck, and that Uncle Magnus is no better, letting his son run rampant like that. Any kit of mine wouldn't be allowed at a spinning wheel if cider touched his lips."

"Monica, really," repeated Judy, "I'm just glad he made it through the night."

"Well… that's true. And he did give you that gorgeous dress, so I suppose he's not all bad," she admitted, "Everyone makes mistakes, and hopefully this is one he'll learn from." She glanced over with a slump of her shoulders, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring it up like that. I don't know what happened over there, and shouldn't rush to judgment… I'm just glad you're okay, is all."

"Don't worry about it," Judy forgave, and went on to explain her time there as nonspecifically as she could, "Knotash is beautiful, though, even if I only saw the Hopps Manor… But I'm happy to be back in Bunnyburrow, it's much more… open." She'd heard about Graham's status through the grapevine of long-earred gossipers inside the Hopps farmhouse (someone happened to know a surgeon in Knotash), so her heart was eased from that burden, at least. After giving the toddler off to a niece, Judy picked up the next young rabbit to begin the process anew, but even when all the youngest rabbits were cleaned and ready for breakfast, Judy's gleefully shouldered responsibilities were not yet over, not when there were still plenty of little mouths to feed and diapers to check.

It was early-to-mid morning when the gray-furred, purple-eyed, dark-ear-tipped rabbit finally had a moment to herself, both exhausted and satisfied after acclimating back to life on the farm. Since Judy had already gone past her presumed allotment of clothing to visit for the weekend, she had to borrow from her sisters and didn't get a say in exactly what she wore, as per the custom. As it was, Judy begrudged the sleeveless, knee-length summer dress whose color above the waist and the lining of the white skirt complimented both her fur and eyes (a wardrobe choice apparently "inspired" by the gown she wore the night prior).

Judy sat herself on the arm of a recliner (which was already occupied by one of her resident uncles who, aside from a succinct greeting, did not seem to mind or notice her being there) to pull out the sleek, silvery phone that went neglected almost all of the day before. It took quite some time to filter through the cornucopia of unread text messages and voicemail (some from Benjamin Clawhauser, asking where Nick was; some more from Bo, asking where she was, and plenty more from her parents asking the same), but it was the most recent from Nick that brightened her heart:

"Why am I awake."

"There's no work today and no threats on my life, so I'm going back to sleep."

"Gid made oatmeal for breakfast…"

"OMG this oatmeal is amazing!"

"Forget night howler, I need rehab for oatmeal addiction."

"Gid packed us crepes for lunch. He just pulled them out of the fridge. Can he just make crepes appear? Is that legal?"

"And by 'us', I mean me and Ess. You didn't get one."

"If Ess says you did get one and I ate it, don't believe her, she's lying."

"Unless it's about me, then she's being modest."

"I already ate my crepe. It was delicious."

"I may have eaten her crepe, too. Also delicious."

"Gid made us sandwiches for lunch, since the crepes mysteriously disappeared. You didn't get one, though."

"Don't believe Ess, she's lying."

After a jolly round of laughter, Judy checked what Esther had to say on Nick's stay in the Grey homestead… and then decided to peruse those messages later… In the interim, her ears rose at Bo's stiff approach, and so she hopped down to join him.

"Bobo, sweetie," she giggled, noting his restricted breathing, "What happened to the shirts that fit you yesterday?"

"Grabbed up by laundry crew," he grunted, trying not to lower or raise his arms too much, lest his respiratory process be further hindered, or the seams follow through on their threats to bust open, "My fault; shouldn't have left them out. You look beautiful, by the way."

Judy accepted the compliment graciously with a smiling cant of her head, before addressing the issue at hand, "How… did you even close this shirt?"

"Persistence. It was the biggest one I could find."

"Let's find you a poncho, or something," suggested Judy, biting back another giggle.

"That'd be swell," Bo grunted again, smiling weakly, "Getting lightheaded."

"Let's loosen this up a bit, at least," she opted, and noticed the buttons of the pitifully straining shirt, "Carefully," she clarified, and began with the top-most fastener. She managed to ease the taut fabric well enough, until his cell phone notified him of something important and he suddenly gasped, sending the button in the immediate center of his chest to burst from its moorings and fly across the room to ricochet off a shelf. Those nearby sprung their ears at the momentary noise, and even less turned in address before returning to their own activities.

"Sorry," he wheezed to Judy, who dismissed the need for apology with a congenial swat of her paw (and the nearby uncle went back to the newspaper article on his tablet). After reaching into his pocket for the offending mobile device, Bo studied the screen with an increasingly concerned frown, and then flicked his thumb to sound the unlocking chime. "Ahh, shoot," deflated Bo, "Barley needs me in Preds' Corner ASAP," he reported, and as if on cue, the back seam of his shirt split open as his shoulders slumped, "I'm not going to get away with a slap on the wrists this time, either."

"Don't worry," assured Judy, "There's a thousand bunnies in this house, someone has to have something that will fit you."

"Check with Fat Frank, he's got plenty of plus-sizes," said the nearby uncle offhandedly, and then glanced up the stairs filled with a stream of transient rabbits in both directions, "Green suitcase with leaves stenciled on. Can't miss it."

"Oh, thanks Uncle Ned!" replied a grateful Judy, and then leaned in to kiss his scruffy, orange cheek, during which Bo ruefully tugged the shirt's remains from his torso before getting grabbed by the wrist, "C'mon, this won't take long."

No sooner had they arrived at the foot of the stairs than were they intercepted by a tall rabbit that just braved the steps, "I wouldn't go up there," she chuckled, and handed over a sky-blue button-up, "For the Burrow Watch, right? This should suffice."

"Oh, thanks Aunt Tabitha!" replied a grateful Judy, and leaned up to kiss her sleek, burgundy cheek, during which Bo's gratitude was vocalized before he was ushered out and onto the porch by the gray bunny.

"Lucky, lucky," he grinned as he gave unfolded the shirt before shrugging it on and buttoning it up, "A bit snug, but manageable," observed Bo, rolling the sleeves up near his elbows and tucking the lower excess into his utility-belt-buckled waistband.

"Yes, lucky," Judy softly agreed, reaching up to fix his collar, a showing tag, and pull a sprig of lint from the shoulder. "Alright, to the van," she instructed, already en route to said vehicle that Bo hardly had time to notice her advance, "You got the key, right?"

"Right, of course," he confirmed, and pulled it from his pocket so that it might glint in the sunlight. After some succinct pleasantries of departure with passerby bunnies, they both hopped through the newly unlocked doors, but before he had a chance to turn said key he was subjected to a thorough pat down from the bunny-cop. His ears burned brightly amidst his giggling, looking bashfully at Judy, "N-not that I'm complaining, but…?"

She leaned in, paw against his left pectoral, and then pulled something from the shirt pocket with a triumphant, "Hah!" and planted herself back onto the seat to tilt her palm in examination. A gasp caught in Judy's throat as she stared incredulously at the trinket, managing a full glimpse with the light pouring in from the windshield. She weighed it, flipped it between her paws a few times, put it up to her ear, and even bit it, It's not a bug at all, just a bauble…? she realized with a pout of relieved disappointment, But still, this symbol…

Bo's steadying huffs were all that filled the silence as he corrected his shirt, taking his turn to lean in and observe the glinting, button-sized sigil. "Wow," snickered Bo, earning Judy's attention, "Fat Frank must be a huge history nerd," he stated, and picked up the offered item to better look at it, but then sighed in self-berating amusement, "Said the… huge history nerd that actually knows what this is."

She sat upright and smiled brighter than her eyes, paws clapping under her nose, "You know what that is?"

"This is a 'Fourth-Leaf Cloven', one of many 'anti-luck' charms signifying corruption of good fortune," he said academically, and lay it in his palm as though it were a precious gem, "among which is the inverted horse's hoof print (often depicted with a stone between the two endpoints), the upside-down number '7' (or 'Crossed-L'), and a rabbit's foot with a bloody stump at the ankle. Rebellious grazers, not bunnies, tend to favor this particular symbol since it is resembles their own cloven hooves." He returned it before revving the engine, to then back out of the service road, "That right there is some obscure occult history, Juju, really 'profound' and 'edgy' stuff," he chuckled, "Didn't figure Fat Frank the type."

Judy gazed at the faux four-leaf clover colored the green of rusted copper, and while the item itself was whole one of its leaves bore a depiction of having been neatly cleaved down the center, "I don't think this is Fat Frank's…" she speculated, and flipped the bauble into the air like a coin to catch it, "It's a message."

Bo's ears were up, "Magnus?" he asked, no doubt remembering the phone call from the night prior.

"Or Graham," she quietly considered. "Coincidences," Judy stated after some contemplation, sitting upright with a declarative finger, "You bathed in the Watch area, which wouldn't have had a laundry crew come by, and they didn't take your pants along with your shirt. That stood out to me like a sore thumb. The next part; Aunt Tabitha just so happened to have a shirt big enough to fit you not seconds after we determined that you needed one."

"Alright," he conceded, "but… maybe she saw me looking for one earlier, and decided to help me out?"

"Maybe," Judy considered, "It's also possible that she doesn't know she's a messenger. If we can figure out the message, we might figure out who sent it. Now, I'm not as up on my 'obscure occult history', it doesn't usually surface in everyday police work, but I reckon these 'anti-luck' charms are nasty business."

"You reckon correctly."

"Both Aunt Tabitha and Fat Frank are from a very traditional side of the family, so I can't imagine either of them holding onto such a thing. Come to think of it, I saw a bumper sticker a while back that spelled out 'LUCKY' using these, with the clover was the 'Y'," she recalled, "Something of an 'anti-luck' counter-culture, I guess."

Bo scoffed, "Which I would like to differentiate from those of us that make our own luck, as opposed to… opposing it."

Judy smirked and pat his arm, "Don't worry, Bobo, I'm right there with you. Anyway, what else can you tell me about the 'Fourth-Leaf Cloven', like, where did it come from?"

"Oh, it's one of those nebulous symbols that have always been around," he explained, "In fact, it's one of the oldest in recorded history, dating as far back as the reign of King Richard Lionheart. Of course, the bloody rabbit foot predates it, according to legend." Bo turned an ear in address to the doubtful hum, "Something wrong?"

"No, no…"

"But?"

"It's just… I was hoping you might've learned something from before King Richard."

"Sad to say, you're not going to find a lot older than five centuries… at least that isn't widely contested oral traditions. Scholars and historians have managed to piece together mammalian history that far with any kind of certainty, but anything beyond is pretty fuzzy."

"A sad state of the world…" Judy concurred, fully aware of the hard boundary of concrete evidence corroborating the past.

"Now," continued Bo, "while the 'Crossed-L' or 'Upside Down Hoof' were the go-to signifiers for it - depending on the region - the Fourth-Leaf Cloven was also designated by the reigning powers of the time as a mark for those 'cursed by silver tongues', which was a fancy way of saying that they were 'lead astray'. There is evidence that it was a symbol of solidarity, but it gets a little 'chicken or egg' at that point as to whether it was used first for rebellion or heresy."

Judy crossed both arms and legs, idly twiddling the coin along her knuckles as her leg bounced with agitation. She grumbled a bit louder than she intended, "Questions, questions, and more questions… Graham wore a polo shirt yesterday with a four-leaf clover on the breast, but he drew a line through one of the leaves, as if to cleave it. I really wanted to ask him about it but I didn't get a chance to…"

Short, brown ears sprung again, "So… if you don't mind my asking, why were you curious about it…?"

"Because I'm pretty sure he's got the very first 'Fourth-Leaf Cloven' in the artifact room of the Hopps Manor library," she said plainly enough, "If only I could've asked him whether he adopted it as his or not…" She then turned to Bo as he opened the window to fan air into his face, "Feeling faint? Need me to drive?" she teased.

"No, I'm fine, I just… y'know, the first Fourth-Leaf Cloven… I didn't think there was a 'first'. I doubt he even realizes what he has. What was it like?" he then asked, the excitement in his voice audibly restrained.

Though unable to stop herself from smiling, Judy studied the bauble in her paw once more, "Actually… I think he does. Magnus already sent his message last night, and sending another one so 'nebulous' or clandestine as this wouldn't accomplish anything, not if he can contact me directly. Graham's already shown an affinity for obscure symbology, his use of the 'ka-poof!' doodle shows that, which according to Nick, Magnus also recognized but didn't approve of. No, I think this bauble was slipped into that shirt and handed off to Aunt Tabitha to deliver a message, which…" she pondered, and sharply breathed in, "Ooh… I think I just felt that thing Nick gets with a crazy idea," she giggled.

Bo moaned, and reached into his collar to pat the fur on his nape down, "Whoa, weird…"

Judy's face brightened, "Graham; he's fighting back," she explained with a sly lilt of her voice, and curled her fist around the bauble, "We figured that he had ears all over the burrow, specifically in the Hopps house," she continued while pointing over her shoulder, "Remember how Uncle Magnus called not five minutes after we got in last night? It was crucial that he delivered his ultimatum before I turned him in, and the best way to do that is strike first, strike hard, and in front of all the relatives, with many of whom I'm sure he still has plenty of pull. He was using Graham's 'ears' to cut me off at the pass, but I'd bet my cottontail that Magnus doesn't know those bunnies as well as he thinks he does, and you can take it to the bank that there's no love lost between him and his son."

"Magnus must still think that Graham's ears are his ears," realized Bo.

Judy tapped her nose, "A terminal error and I think I know what the message is. You said this symbolized both a heretical mark for untoward influence (i.e., foxes, I'm sure) and solidarity, right? Graham must have assumed I would know that because of all the historical trivia I rattled off yesterday (a lot of which I got from you, by the way, so thank you). Simply enough, it's a rallying point, because the era of its use can easily be a parallel to how things are run at Hopps Manor," she then gravely concluded. "Don't get me wrong, Bobo, it's beautiful over there, absolutely breathtaking… but what's lying just beneath the surface… I've never seen a rabbit so scared in my life, when he realized that he might soon be a victim to it… It feels like we saved each other from that place."

The van drove on for two sober beats before Judy cleared her throat and the air, "Anyway! The first one of these," Judy announced as she presented the bauble, "was made from a King Richard farthing about five-hundred years ago, as best I can figure from a TV special I saw on a history of world currency," she began, recalling the nth time she was in the same room when one of her siblings was watching something, "In answer to your 'chicken/egg' question, I think it started as a symbol of rebellion-"

"How so?" he almost demanded, perhaps a bit too eager to find out.

"For starters," Judy calmly responded with a withering glance, to which Bo did indeed wither and went back to driving, "the angle of the cut on the leaf looked unintentional."

Bo's fingers drummed the steering wheel, "A four-leaf clover made from a farthing… whoever did that must have been high-up in King Richard's court, since defacing money was as much a crime then as it is now, so maybe a prince, the captain of the guard, or the royal treasurer might've commissioned it…"

"The plaque of its display said it was found pinned on a slain bunny," to which Bo nearly choked on his surprise, "So, I reasoned that it was gift, since it no doubt was an item of great sentimental value. Do you think that's plausible?"

The brown bunny breathed in a long cycle to regain his composure (what wasn't reserved for controlling the van), "It's… possible? It would have been an exceptionally important bunny to be gifted something like that, but the highest that a bunny ever got in a larger mammal's court was a royal messenger, so they wouldn't have a customized sigil. Although… the title of 'Felix' was first bestowed in the latter part of King Richard's reign, but honestly, it would've had less worth than that defaced farthing… It wasn't until Bunnyburrow was founded one-hundred-and-thirty-one years ago that a 'Felix' actually had weight behind them, as you know."

"And of course, there's that whole 'The first Felix was a Hopps' thing I've heard about," scoffed Judy with a roll of her purple eyes.

"You mean that thing every rabbit family claims, Briars included?" mocked Bo, and then added in a lower, normal tone, "The Briars that aren't hares, anyway." He shrugged, "Anyway, I'm afraid I'm just a nerd that reads too much… If I could've held onto the Lapis Scholarship with a history degree I would've, but if you want I can direct you to Zootopia's leading authority?"

"Oh? And on whom does such a prestigious title rest?" she wondered aloud.

"He has his tenure at Zootopia University, and while his expertise is in dance history he's still knowledgeable in numerous fields pertaining to cultural zoology and social sciences, not just dance," said the brown rabbit cheerily, "Professor Kazar-"

"Pass."

"Umm…"

"Flaming specist if ever there as one," Judy muttered under her breath, tumbling the bauble along her knuckles again while glancing out the window.

"I…"

She glanced back, and shared in the awkwardness a moment, "Do you… know what he did?"

Brown mitts kneaded the steering wheel, "I've only… read about his… scholastic background…"

"Oh…" Judy said quietly, "Well… did you know he was also one of the top choreographers in the city?"

"I did know that, yes," he hastily rattled off, "He actually taught Gazelle to dance, and was her first choreographer until he retired-"

"Was fired," the gray rabbit swiftly, patiently cut in.

"Maybe it was a-"

"By Gazelle herself for his flagrant harassment of her tiger dancers." By Bo's avoidant eyes and miniscule writhing, Judy continued, "It's not widely known, I'll admit, considering it happened super early in her career and I think Gazelle kept it quiet to protect her tigers, but Kazar was quite heinous towards them, even sabotaged them so as not to outshine his troupe of wildebeest dancers. When she found out about his duplicity, well… 'Hath no fury', and all that. There are… other example, but I don't want to get into those."

"Wow…"

"Yeah," she agreed, "I don't deny that he has plenty to say on something like this," Judy pointed out, holding up the bauble, "But… I doubt I would want to hear it." Several beats passed again in the unbroken silence of the van, save the engine's hum and the kicking-up of pebbles on the undercarriage. Judy wondered aloud again, "I would, however, favor an unbiased viewpoint on such an interesting trinket, even if it is from just a… huge, history nerd."

"Even if… even if it's only uncorroborated hearsay…?"

"You did imply that this was 'pretty deep in the reeds'," she pointed out, "Oral history is still history, after all."

"True…" he conceded, and hummed in thought, "I don't know how much you can get from it, but there was something I heard about back in Hares' Bluff. Max - do you remember Max?"

"Only that he was your guardian as a teenager, and urged you to not give up despite your condition, so yes, I remember Max Hareton, if having never met him," Judy said wryly.

Bo chuckled, "Max isn't the forgettable type. He was such a character, taught me how to run, jump, throw and take a punch, and bless his heart, could not keep a story straight to save his life. I learned a lot of what not to do from him, too," he snickered, "So, one thing he mentioned repeatedly, which I never found any other evidence to back until something you said a few minutes ago, was the 'Scarlet Clover'; I think he meant it as another name for the 'Fourth-Leaf Cloven'."

Judy blinked, and then mulled, "'Pinned on the tunic of a slain bunny'… as if struck by a weapon, not a tool. The 'scarlet' could mean the blood split. I'm guessing you never heard anyone else call it that, though."

"Not as such. Outside of Hares' Bluff, at least."

"How about… 'crimson clover'? Literarily speaking, it's the more common metaphor for blood."

"Nuh-uh," denied the boy bunny, "Never heard of a 'crimson clover', at least not in that context, only 'scarlet'."

"And yet this Fourth-Leaf Cloven is green, no red in it at all, scarlet or otherwise."

"Maybe sometime after the TBR, we can take a trip up to see Max and get some more information out of him?" Bo posited hopefully, "I've already told him about you, of course."

"Oh… then how come I've never spoken with him before?" she asked.

"Because…" he shrugged, "You always get that… really awkward grimace on your face when you hear his voice on the phone."

"That was Max, I see…"

"I would say he's 'mellowed' since my teenage years but… he hasn't. He means well, and is one the best apiarists in Honeyhills… although it's a tossup between him and his bees as to who's the more easily agitated…"

Judy flicked the bauble once more into the air before slipping it into the pocket of her dress, "Let's put a pin it. It's not like there's any shortage of mysteries, and we've got enough on our plate as is," she snarked, and pulled her phone from her other dress-pocket when the mile marker for Preds' Corner popped up. "I'll let Esther know we're on our way."

"So, uhh…" Bo began sheepishly, "What other kind of artifacts did you see in Knotash?"

The gray bunny glimpsed coyly over the edge of her phone, bringing it back only far enough to brush the tip of her nose, "Bo… do you remember how, back in high school, there was that one old teacher that claimed the jackalope was 'a prehistoric cryptid with no scientific backing'?"

"Yeah…?" the brown bunny answered, tightening with anticipation.

"Brace yourself for this, because they have an intact, jackalope antler on display," Judy revealed, barely containing her own, resurfacing excitement about the discovery.

Bo's surprise caught in his throat for the second time in that short van-ride, but finally managed to begin to say, "Well-!"


I'll Be Dammed is a fine, family-friendly restaurant and fishery that caters to any mammal crossing the Lion's Tail River between the Conifer District and Deciduousville (a transition that more than a few residents refer to as "moving up in the world"). Its owners and curators are Vernon and Beatrice Dammer, and has remained largely unchanged since its opening, save for any renovations that brought it up to code and implemented modern conveniences; such as a widescreen, high-definition television. Though small, it is largely regarded as a favorite destination amongst many families in Conifer, and those who would rather not suffer the noise of the new sports bar that opened up down the way.

The very first customer of the day was none other than John Wilde, a fact which Vernon quickly pointed out as he ducked away from the fryer. "What?" gawked the portly beaver, "It can't be Friday again so soon, can it? I was looking forward to a nice, quiet couple o' days before the weekend kicked up again." He was happy to see the red fox, long-time friend as he was, and expressed himself with a half-hug over the bar before the tailor sat on a stool (the portion of the restaurant he referred to as "the pub"), "And what's that face you got on, 'eh? It's all so serious, I hardly know what to make of it, jolly chap like you."

"What 'face'? I don't have a 'face'," John denied, touching at his cheeks as though something were smeared there, and then leaned over to peer through the shelves on the wall at the mirror beyond, "Blow me over, I do have a face… How long's that been there?"

"Since you walked in the door, at least," the beaver explained, "Though you prob'ly had it on ever since you saw Whiskers bright and early," and he couldn't help but snicker, "You know, that soda jerk still thinks you named Nicky after him."

"Something Nicky enjoyed getting free ice cream for as a kit," laughed the tailor.

Vernon gasped triumphantly, "There's someone I recognize. I thought that fox was pullin' my tail, callin' and sayin' you were on your way up here, but here you are. So, why don't you tell me what's up, 'eh? Closin' early on a Tuesday, poppin' in for a cone before breakfast, practically had to tickle you to see a smile…" He then cringed as his voice went low, "Sweet mercy, it's not something with Jackie, is it?"

"Vern, Vern," chuckled John, "Relax, everything is fine with me and Jackie; couldn't be better. We're actually set to go see Nicky out in the country and the train leaves at noon, so we need to finish up all our business before that."

The beaver gave his friend a long, hard look, "John, you swore up-&-down you'd never go back out to Bunnyburrow… not that you ever said why," he pointed out with equal parts concern and suspicion, "Just what sort of 'business' are you two 'finishing up'?"

Fine, vulpine claws tapped against the polished wood bartop, "Well," said the smirking fox, "Let's just say that we'll be picking up Jackie's hat on the way out."

"Oh, bugger…" muttered Vernon, "Haven't seen that face in… not long enough. What sort of thing did you need from me, then?"

John gave this some thought, "Since it's a bit early for cider, I'll order some juice, and then would like to pay my tab," he stoically explained, reaching into a pocket to pull out his wallet and card for the dreading beaver.

"You act like you're never comin' back," Vernon worried, accepting the piece of plastic and turning towards the register.

"That's how I must face what's to come, my friend," he told with a bright smile, "For as long as I can remember, I've always held onto a way out of everything I've done… except when it came to Jackie and Nicky… They're the only ones I've ever thrown it all in for, but if I'm being honest with myself, I'm my slyest because of them."

The beaver heaved a mighty sigh and scratched through the fur on his neck, "Aslan's mane, this is really serious, innit? I get the feeling it's more than just about you, though. C'mon, I've seen you face down worse things than havin' to apologize."

"Vernon, there's something coming to Zootopia. It could be a hurricane or a breeze, but either way, my son's involved and I cannot idly watch from the sidelines," John determined, and took up the freshly filled mug of juice set before him.

"And what should Bea and I do while all this is happenin', 'eh?"

John smacked his lips in a sad smile, "I'm afraid you and your mate have the most difficult task in the city, something that I in all my cleverness could never pluck up the courage for…"

Vern smugly smirked, "'Business as usual', is it."

"Cheers," the fox toasted and then sipped his mug.

"Speaking of," said the beaver on his return to the kitchen, "I've some chips to tend to. Think you can handle yourself out here for a bit?"

"I'll shout if anything catches fire."

John shared a chuckle before pulling out his phone to flick it open. He fully intended to return to his suit shop when everything was said and done, of course, there were promises to be fulfilled and a life to live afterwards. Getting out of bad situations and eluding the worst is what foxes did best, after all… the former part of which always seemed to be John's tour de force, especially when it was also applied to the latter… most foxes did not willing get into trouble. The old tod never regretted his uncanny prowess in cheating death, though; until he met Jackie, and had someone to live for other than himself; until he met Nicky, and saw that his "daring" had rubbed off on his own kit.

Those "Savage Greens" smiled back at John from the phone screen, for his new wallpaper was a recent selfie of he, his mate Jackie, and his son Nicky (wearing the suit he got last Friday). There was trouble in those green eyes, always had been, something John knew as soon as he saw them the day of his son's birth, and was reminded of ever after. "Ja~ckie," he said aloud, if to himself, and then said, "Ni~cky." He couldn't and wouldn't refuse the smile that came with their enunciations, how the mouth formed into a wide grin from the combined syllables… that was his son's namesake; "A smile you can't help but make", so John would say. He felt emboldened, so with another flick of his finger, he brought up a messaging app "tailored" to his needs by a raccoon friend of his:

"We still a-go?" said the latest text.

John replied with the "thumbs-up" emoji of a fox's paw, and then tucked his phone back into his coat pocket. Both nostrils flared to the rich aroma of fresh "chips", as Vern would insist they were called, and smiled at the to-go bag set before him with his credit card, the receipt and a pen. "That's grand of you, but I couldn't-"

"On the house," the beaver offered with a smirk, "and if you make these the last thing you ever eat here, I'll never speak to you again."

"It'd be awfully rude of me to not accept these now, wouldn't it," the fox pondered while signing the customer copy, "'Twist my arm, bend my tail, pinch my ears until I wail'," and grinned as he opened up the free food and reached in, "Ooh, still hot."

Vernon leaned on the bar, studying the fox, "It's the strangest thing, John, I can't believe I never pieced it together that Nick was your son; I don't think Bea'll ever stop laughin' about it. You both were comin' in here, every other Friday - different Fridays, granted - for almost a year, and yet it never occurred to me. The more I think on it, the more it feels like you had it all scheduled."

"That… would be a remarkable bit of choreography," John admitted around a fry.

"But you really didn't talk for sixteen years?" the beaver asked in both doubt and pity.

"Hard to believe, isn't it. I wanted to reach out to him so many times, Vern, but there was always something that… came up."

"Oh, right. He's your son," Vernon argued, "What 'came up'?" He flinched at the steely glare of the fox, as though some primal instinct sparked inside him that he'd tread too far. He coughed apologetically, instead.

John acquiesced to relax his features, "Fox things…" he muttered, "We waited for him to come back… and he did, but… I guess he took the long way home." He huffed, "All too often, though… my tail would catch fire to grab him and shake him by the shoulders, screaming that his mother and I still loved him, that we wanted him back in our lives… But whether it was a client whose business my entire shop might very well have teetered on, or I just couldn't find that slippery kit of mine…" he explained with hints of exasperation that petered off to acceptance, "something came up, and I cooled down. And then we'd wait again, ready to receive him at a moment's notice."

"You foxes, always so subtle," the beaver laughed in good humor when he felt the coast was clear, "My kits had their rebellious phases like any other species, and Bea insisted they'd get through it - which they took their jolly time with - but you can be sure I clapped my tail down when it affected their school- or housework," he boasted.

The predator quirked a grin, "Don't knock subtlety, it serves us foxes marvelously well, both in and out of the den. And Nicky's always been able to go unnoticed when he wanted to, even as a kit - which he gets from his mother, of course - but boy howdy, did he keep me on my toes with his ambushes… I never thought I'd miss them. At least up through primary school, after which if he wasn't at home he was gone… until some trouble cropped up, and there he was with Finnick… escaping from it." John chuckled forlornly at first, but it grew into a round of hearty guffaws the more he thought on it, face in his palm as he slapped the bar, "That he gets from me, unfortunately."

Vernon chuckled once, "You've always been a watchful sorta bloke for as long as I've known you, you and Jackie both. It's a lot to swallow that you just… didn't know what happened to him."

"Oh, I kept eyes, ears, and nose peeled after he left home… he wasn't my little kit anymore, from what I gathered, but then he disappeared completely; just dropped off the radar, like a ghost. That's when I really started to worry… until he and Finnick appeared again, selling popsicles," he paused, and corrected himself, "Hustling popsicles. It's also when he started sending money, which… Jackie and I figured was his way of saying that he still thought of us. Every month for ten-plus years, we found another envelope of money pushed through the mail slot… we tried to catch him at it… but really, we were just happy to know he came to visit every now and then."

"And now he's the first fox cop," the beaver commended, "Tha's a right, good thing, that is."

"After his birth, his graduation from the police academy is the proudest moment of our lives as parents, but let me tell ya', Vern, it turned the city on its head; subtly," leered John. His face then softened into an amused grin, "I was both scared and overjoyed to see him with that Judy Hopps at the press conference… I don't know how she did it, but she got Nicky on camera and in the ZPD… That bunny is the stuff of legends, mark my words," he decreed, to which Vernon seemed to share the sentiment with a scratching of his chest. But then John said to himself, "I still wonder what she said that made him so mad, though… and like that," his fingers snapped, "Nicky was in the wind…" By the shift of his eyes, he seemed to return to the present day, "I'm not afraid to admit that I'm a teensy bit concerned."

"Because of this 'something' you were on about?"

John rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, "Nicky ghosted twelve years ago right before the PredaTherp scandal broke, and when he did it again last year, the Pred-Scare. If precedence is all I have to work with, then I might lose my son again right after getting him back."

"Blimey… you weren't kiddin' when you said a 'hurricane', were you," said a Vernon only just managing to hold himself together, "Those weren't good times for pred or prey, nothing but fear and death around every corner. My family was threatened on more than one occasion for 'sympathizing'… we're still recovering from that! John, don't tell me that's happening again?"

John wiped the salt and grease from his fingers and mouth before tossing the napkin into the newly emptied bag of fries. "Of course not," he assured while correcting his necktie in absolute authority, "because I won't let it."

Vernon reeled incredulously with a brow-furrowed pout, "So you'll be saving the city now, I suppose. Awful altruistic of ya', but forgive me if I'm a wee bit doubtful."

"Oh…" the fox mused, and stood from his stool, "All I'm doing is keeping Nicky in my life; no citywide terror, no ghosting son of mine. If the rest of Zootopia benefits from it, then it's another feather in my cap." He grinned wide and tapped his brow in a salute to the beaver, "Thanks for the hospitality, Vern; I feel tons lighter without all that on my chest. And give Beatrice my warmest regards; I can't wait to savor her fish-&-chips again."

"John Wilde, you cheeky bliker, if you hadn't just paid your tab, I'd have half-a-mind to suspect you did all that for the free chips," the beaver accused, despite the upturned corner of his mouth.

"Funny you should mention that, because Whiskers said the same about that scoop he gave me," John teased.

"And I suppose you ran him the full story about missing your son and all that?"

"Now now," the fox placated, "All I did was give him a spare key to the shop while I was out of town. If he wants to give me a complimentary scoop of vanilla with chocolate sprinkles, I can hardly deny him, right?"

"You probably cleared what 'tab' you had at the Frozen Fox, too, I wouldn't wonder."

"…Maybe."

Vernon snorted derisively and crossed his arms.

John smiled and shrugged both in wide gesture as he sauntered towards the door.

"Don't expect me to open up a new tab for ya'!" called Vernon.

"You will," answered John before he left into the mid-morning air.

"Yeah, I will," the beaver abided in a smirk, "bloody fox."


Author's Note:

Nic Thistlemore (along with Nicky Winge) was one of the bunnies named by the ravens in Brave, chapter 18 in a grim, cawing "NICK!", an understandably terrifying experience for anybunny.

The "ka-poof!" doodle was something of a plot device back in Trustworthy, and was a fox's head on a shield, as a sort of depiction of the Hexward logo, or alluding to the mounting of fox's head upon the wall.

"I'll Be Dammed" is a call-back to Trustworthy, chapter 8, along with Vernon & Beatrice Dammer, who are themselves references to Mr. & Mrs. Beaver from Chronicles of Narnia.

Kazar is the "leader, prophet, choreographer" from Disney's "The Wild". I find his motives and general disposition rather fitting for a sort of... looming malevolence in Zootopia.

Max Hareton references "Max Hare", voiced by Ned Norton, from the 1935 Disney film "The Tortoise and the Hare".