Disclaimer: I do not own Zootopia or its related characters. All is the property of Walt Disney Animation Studios, Clark Spencer, and Byron Howard. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.
Leave of Advance
Chapter Four: Uncomfortable Mornings
Bogo didn't want any more fires. No more assignations -attempted or otherwise. When the Savage wing at Zootopia general went up in flames, he put in a request for one of the city's disused lock-up facilities to be renovated and repurpose to hold them. He used not wanting them to be housed so close to civilians as the justification. That fire might have only killed the Savages that remained sedated in their rooms, unable to get out. But it had injured countless others. Hospital staff, volunteers, visitors, and patients with already compromised health. The Police Chief's request garnered a lot of support from the city as a whole, and City Hall had no choice but to find a building and the funding to refurbish it.
They found Cliffside.
The old and -mostly- abandoned asylum had already been renovated by Lionheart during his own short Savage conspiracy. It didn't take much to pull down the crime scene tape, sweep the floors, and move all the Savages right back to where they started. Right back where they were when Officer Hopps found them and launched the chain of events that brought them to this point.
Cliffside was within Zootopia city limits, but the area it was in -just beyond the Timberland district- was so remote, it might as well have been considered 'outside the city'. It was far enough away from any possible civilian centers to satisfy the concerned voters. But that also meant that it was far enough away from city services like the police and fire fighters that if another attempt was made to get rid of the Savages, help wouldn't reach them in time. Bogo could only hope that sending the only witnesses of value away with Hopps would dissuade the conspirators from trying again.
The otter, the jaguar, and Hopps' pet fox -not to mention Officer Hopps herself. They were the ones who knew of the mayor's part in the Savage outbreaks. They were the ones who could testify against her if -no, when- Bogo finally compiled enough evidence to request a warrant for her arrest. He didn't dare attempt to arrest they city's head of government before he had a solid case that could be presented to a scrupulous judge.
But for the time being, he had to focus on the tasks before him. The relocation of all predators withing the city. Not just the Savages from Zootopia General back to Cliffside, but also non-Savage predator residents. All predator residents were being removed from population centers and relocated to a number of cordoned off areas in each district. They were calling them 'Quarantine Zones', but that was a misnomer. The word 'quarantine' implied a total and complete lock-down. No predators out, no non-predators in. But predators were still allowed to come and go during daylight hours for work or school. But strict curfews were put in place to and any predator found outside the Quarantine Zone after curfew was to be arrested on sight.
All these measures promised to make the city safe once again. But as the one who had to enforce those measures, Bogo realized that all it did was raise tensions between predators and prey. It was almost like Bellwether wanted both groups to hate each other. Discontent flowing through the streets like an undercurrent in the sea. You don't realize it has a hold of you until you're already drowning in its pull.
More and more, Westley Bogo was feeling less and less like the Chief of Police in a glittering utopian society, and more like the rotten and conniving Sheriff of Nottingham from all those old stories. A presumed 'enforcer of justice' doing nothing more than the bidding of a corrupt and self-serving ruler.
He remembered what Lionheart said during their brief interview before the catastrophically public attack at Gazelle's concert that injured the pop diva and killed one of her back-up performers. It was the spark that ignited the powder keg the city had become, allowed the city council to pass the Taming Initiative, put shock collars on all predators, and paved the way for this newest round of species-based regulations. Banning new predators from entering the city, relocating predators already living in the city to ghettos, placing restrictions on their movement within the city, and enforcing curfews. It was like martial law, only selective against certain citizens.
Lionheart said that Bellwether was doing this because she benefited from it. Bogo couldn't imagine what the benefit could possibly be.
Bogo was distracted from his thoughts by a knock on his office door.
"Enter." He called.
A timber wolf poked his head in through the door, a little hesitant and unsure. Officer Malcome 'Mal' Wolford. He held an envelope in his paw. Coming into the office fully, the wolf placed it on the desk, but didn't slide it over to the buffalo. "Before you read this, I want you to know, I didn't come to this decision lightly. This isn't some 'rage quit' because the city's lost its mind. This is me, making the best decision I can with the options available to me."
He slid the envelope across the desk to his superior officer.
Bogo took the envelope, ripped it open without taking his eyes off his officer, put on his reading glasses, and read. He stared at the letter Wolford handed him. The timber wolf stood, refusing to sit in front of the Chief's desk. He knew that if he made himself comfortable, the buffalo would try to talk him out of it.
"I don't understand." The Chief set the announcement of notice aside and took off his glasses to meet the wolf's eyes. "You're quitting the force?"
Wolford nodded. "We're leaving the city. My girls are gonna be starting pre-school at summer's end, and Annie and I are trying to have another litter. Zootopia just isn't the kind of place I wanna be bringing my family up in right now."
Pinching the bridge of his snout, Bogo had to begrudgingly agree with him. He wasn't the 'family man' type -didn't have the time for one- but the buffalo imagined that if he was, then he also wouldn't want his hypothetical children growing up in the city's current social and political climate. Still, quitting was not the move Bogo would have made. "Wouldn't you rather a transfer? I could write you a letter of recommendation to the city police of wherever you end up settling. Or the county sheriff's office."
"Thank you, sir." The wolf nodded. "But I don't want to be thought of as someone who enforced these new horse-crap laws wherever I end up settling. I don't want to be associated with this city's police -and that's a sentence I never thought I'd say."
Bogo couldn't blame him. Knowing what he knew about what was actually going on, he didn't really want to be associated with the city either -and he was the Chief of Police! Heaving a sigh, the buffalo placed the letter of notice in a desk drawer, making a mental note to place it in the timber wolf's personnel file later.
"You have to do what you think is best."
And he would just have to figure out what to do with a city losing its mind. A mayor whom was a fascist in all but name hiding behind the sweet angelic person of a gentle ewe propelled into an office she wasn't prepared for. A population divided along species lines as if they were suddenly and inexplicably living in the Dark Ages once again. Now, his good cops were leaving. How was Bogo going to manage to maintain any semblance of 'order' (forget 'peace' that ship sailed the moment the quarantine was announced) without competent officers? Officers with years of experience, whom were adaptable, and knew how to diffuse a situation -not escalate one.
Not for the first time since the night of the fire in the Savage ward, Chief Bogo questioned the wisdom of his decision to send Hopps out of the city. At the time, it seemed like a good idea. The three Savages, Emmitt Otterton, Renato Manchas, and Nickolas Wilde were key witnesses needed to expose Bellwether's conspiracy, they needed to be protected. Hopps was a competent officer of the ZPD and legally dead, the perfect Mammal to go into hiding with the fugitives and keep them safe.
Bogo had no regrets about sending the three predators away. The way things were, anywhere that wasn't Zootopia was probably safer for them. But Hopps... Hopps was still fairly new to the ZPD, that meant she was inexperienced. But she was brilliant. Was adaptable, diligent, clever, and knew how to diffuse a situation -not escalate one. She was also prey. She was exactly the kind of cop Bogo needed right now. He needed ten of her.
The Chief waited until Wolford left his office, shutting the door behind him, before taking out a small evidence bag. In it was a rabbit sized novelty pen. Shaped like a carrot, bright orange with a green clicky-top, buttons and a small speaker on the side. It was a pen, but it doubled as a recorder, and recorded on it was the audio track of a female Mammal that sounded unmistakably like Mayor Bellwether informing Hopps -very calmly- that a predator was going to kill her. The evidence was circumstantial at best and while it didn't exactly paint the mayor in a positive light, it wasn't damning enough for Bogo to win an arrest warrant from a judge -never mind actually get a conviction.
That was what he needed the Savages that were under Hopps' care for. While she was keeping them safe, he would maintain the chain of evidence and continue to investigate.
It was really all he could do.
Bogo hoped Hopps was fairing better with her charges than he was with his.
…
"I'm sleepy!" Nick whined as Judy dragged him by the paw. He sounded less like the smooth talking, confident pawpsicle hustler he was when she met him and much more like a petulant child. A disgruntled and fussy kit in need of some firm but nurturing authority. "You're mean!"
Luckily, being a middle child among over two hundred siblings, Judy had plenty of experience wrangling difficult and moody kits. "Tell ya what, you don't have to stay up the whole day. Just spend a few hours with me and the others, and if you make it to noon, I'll let you sleep unbothered for the rest of the day."
The fox looked up at the morning sun skeptically. It had risen enough over the horizon to be properly called 'day', but it was still early. Noon was a long ways off and he'd been up all night. "Why are you doing this to me? Don't you have carrots to pick? Or planting to do? I saw something new had been plowed a couple nights ago. Go work the farm and leave me alone."
She rolled her eyes and tugged just a little harder on the fox's paw. "Dad managed just fine without me while I was living in Zootopia, I'm sure they can manage without me again for one half-day. Now come on. Because of all your whining and fussing Mr. Otterton and the others left us behind."
Reluctantly, more because he just did not have the energy to fight her on it, Nick allowed the Bunny to pull him along towards the river.
Apparently, that was what Otterton did with the majority of his days since coming to stay at the Hopps farm. He hiked across two fields down to a bend in the river where the bunnies had dug a series of irrigation ditches to syphon water into the fields and save costs on plumbing and pipe maintenance. Sometimes Manchas went with him.
Otterton was teaching the jaguar some of his meditation and breathing techniques. To help control the Savage within. The otter claimed they worked wonders for him. Nick was skeptical. When the Night Howler turned them Savage it flipped a switch. Rekindling ancient instincts buried deep under generations of comfortable modern life and convinces, suppressed by breeding and reinforcing docility into the specieses. The Night Howler undid all that, putting a Mammal in touch with their inner beast. Returning to them instincts and impulses they would not otherwise have living in a comfortable city with modern conveniences.
Nick didn't think a Mammal could just sit and 'inner peace' those instincts and impulses away. If generations of breeding and civilized lifestyle couldn't eradicate them, what hope did a couple hours of breathing and humming have?
True to Judy's assessment, the otter and jaguar were already by the river's edge by the time she dragged Nick over. Otterton was unrolling a wicker mat he borrowed with Bonnie Hopps' permission. She used it for sunbathing when she took the little ones swimming (as if she ever had time to just lay down and relax while she had sixty-plus kits to mind and keep from drowning), but the otter repurposed it as a yoga mat. He made the jaguar stand on the unrolled mat, ordering him to straighten his spine and relax his shoulders, arms hanging at his sides, pads of his paws out.
"This is the mountain pose, tadasana." The otter narrated, walking a quick circle around the larger predator to get a better assessment of his bulkier form. "Relax and widen your stance, this isn't a military posture."
Judy let go of Nick's paw and found a place to sit down along the bank. "Guys, if he falls asleep, push him in the water. If he tries to make a break for it, Mr. Manchas, you have my permission to chase him down."
"Jeez, so distrusting..." The fox tsk'd as he likewise found a place to sit down, propped his elbow up on his knee, and rested his chin in his paw. Nick yawned and closed his eyes. "I can't imagine what I ever did to make you so suspicious, Carrots."
She dipped a paw in the current and splashed some water up in the fox's general direction.
Nick opened one eye to glare at her. "Meanie. I was just resting my eyes." He scooted away from the water just a bit more. "So, is this what you guys do all day? Stretch like anti-vaxer soccer moms complaining about their paleo diets."
"Absolutely none of that applies to anyone here." Judy informed him. "Your barbs are slipping."
"Shut-up, I'm sleepy." The fox muttered, head beginning to droop.
"Would you like to practice Surya Namaskar with us." Otterton offered, turning to him with a friendly smile on his face. "It might help you wake up. You'll feel more energized after."
Without looking at the otter, the fox shook his head. Eyes closed. Ears drooping. "Mm, yeah... exercising to not-feel tired. That makes sense. I'll take a Snarlbucks over hippy stretches, thank you very much."
"Well, we don't have any Snarlbuckses here in Bunnyburrow." Judy informed him. "Sorry, Nick."
"Figures." He muttered and started to snore.
With a sigh, Judy cupped her paws in the water and poured it over the fox's head. "Wake up! Or else I really will throw you in."
He flinched, jumping to his feet. Shaking his head and flicking his ears where some water had gotten in them. Nick glared murderously at the bunny. "You are going to a special circle of the Winterlands. One reserved for people who talk at the movies and the executive who canceled Firefly."
"But you're awake again." Judy smiled up at him.
He hmph'd, glaring at the bunny. A muscle in his cheek twitched in an add way. Almost as if his mouth couldn't decide if it wanted to pull back in a playful smile or a hostile snarl. It seemed to settle on condescending sneer as the fox stared down at his bunny handler. "Well, since you won't let me rest my eyes, and you won't let me go back to the drying house, how about letting me hang out with Finnick. Will you let me do that, Boss Bunny?"
The smaller fennec fox never had been a social animal, and so Nick didn't find it the least bit strange when Carrots dragged him to the river and he saw that his partner was absent from the rest of the group. Given the choice between being forced to spend the morning in the company of a moody and ill-tempered predator at an uncomfortable biting hight and yoga hippies, Nick chose the former.
Judy sighed, already getting exasperated with him. He needed to get back to a normal sleep cycle but the red fox was already starting to grate on her nerves. Then again, Nick did have an unnervingly easy time getting under her skin and in her head. She used to just assume it was because he was an uncommonly gifted con-artist. Clever and observant, and able to draw conclusions from a minimum of evidence. (He really would have made a great cop. If only things had played out differently for him.) But after Koslov's parting words to her before she left Mr. Big's estate for the last time, Judy wasn't so sure.
'Save the one you love.'
'...the one you love.'
'...you love.'
Was that the real reason why he affected her so much and so deeply. Comments and acts that might not bother her all that much if coming from other Mammals suddenly sent Judy into extreme reactions. Anger. Frustration. Fear. Enthusiasm. It was like, whenever Nick was around, her insides became a maelstrom of feelings. Swirling and raging within her, to chaotic and disjointed to make sense of on her own. It started at some point between 'Look, you gave her a... a... a clown vest and a three wheel joke mobile...' and 'If that's what you think about predators, then you probably shouldn't have one as a partner.' -and just got stronger and more intense from there.
No other Mammal managed to get under Judy's skin so thoroughly. Was Koslov right? Was it because she -a bunny- was secretly in love with Nick Wilde -a fox? The idea was just plain absurd! And yet... it made an uncomfortable amount of sense and didn't sound all that crazy at all.
But regardless of how she felt about the fox, whether it was some strange interspecies love -predaphelia- or just an uncommon but perfectly normal infatuation brought on by their shared experiences, Judy couldn't afford to dwell on it. Not right now. Now while they were on the run and she had not just Nick but Otterton and Manchas to look after. The three predators that had information that could stop the Savage outbreaks. All dosed with Night Howler to keep them quiet (metaphorically quiet) and continue to conceal the conspiracy. It was her job to protect them. She did not have the luxury of dividing her focus by dwelling on an unnatural attachment to her species natural enemy.
So, it was while she pinched the bridge of her nose in a vain attempt to stave off a stress headache that agreed to Nick's request. Finnick would probably put him to work helping with the van. That would keep him awake and out of her hair. "Fine. He's over by the barn." A pause. "And Nick, if I find you you didn't go to Finnick and just went back to the drying house to sleep the day away again... no more meals."
The fox just rolled his eyes. "Right. Cause its not like there's nothing to eat around here."
If she made good on the threat he could just sneak out and eat fresh blueberries right off the bush. Or corn, if he wanted something with more caloric value. He'd stay away from the carrots, though. Ugh! Vegetables were the worst. Nick preferred sweeter produce.
He left the group by the river.
The back of his neck practically burning from the glare he knew the bunny was giving his retreating figure. But he had to get away from her. Not just because she dumped water over his head and wasn't letting him sleep. But because he just couldn't be around her. Not for very long, and especially not with strained nerves.
Whenever he was around the bold and maddeningly assertive little bunny, Nick's breath could catch short, his pulse would pound in his ears, and his stomach would twist and jump and churn in uncomfortable ways.
If it had been before he was shot with Night Howler, Nick would have known exactly what this was. He realized at a very young age that his preferences did not exactly adhere to what was considered normal -or even acceptable- for a fox (or any predator for that matter). There was no official word for it, it didn't happen that often in predator species for there to be a word for it. When the opposite occurred in prey it was called 'predaphelia' and was generally treated as a mental illness. Prey that were attracted to predators were sick somehow. It stood to reason that when a predator held the same preferences but in reverse it would be treated wit the same stigma. Nick never wanted to find out, so he hid it -just like he hid almost every other feeling he had since he was nine years old.
What he felt now, around the energetic bunny-cop turned fugitive (turned fugitive for him) felt very similar to how he felt back when a cute prey in his same size-class might catch his eye. But it was different and that worried him. The only thing within himself that had changed was the Night Howler -or, more accurately, the Night Howler had changed him. It didn't take Nick long to notice that about himself either. His night vision was better, his sense of smell was vastly improved, as a grifter he'd always been in tune to his surroundings, but ever since waking up strapped to a hospital bed, he seemed able to pick up on so much more. Like he suddenly and inexplicably connected to an energy field that bound all living things.
'Yeah right. Like Duke Skyhopper.' The fox rolled his eyes at himself and his own absurd ideas.
It was more like an exaggerated sense of danger. That thing all Mammals had. When they felt like someone was watching them, or they weren't completely alone. When a Mammal's fur stands up on the back of their neck, or they break out in goosebumps. When their skin crawls and they put just a little bit of modern civilized manners to the side and listen to their hind brain and their instincts. It was like that.
But more intense.
And whenever Nick was around Judy his hind brain, his primal instincts, told him two every different, naturally conflicting, yet equally strong things.
'Eat!' Shouted one half of his feral mind.
'Mate!' Begged the other.
Both screaming with identical voices. Not screaming with words but with base and elemental intent.
Eat her. She's a bunny. She's your natural prey. And she comes to you unafraid, guard completely down. Easy pickings. An easy meal. Take her down and devour her like the Savage you are!
Mate her. She saved your life -more than once. You can trust her. She smells nice, and is so soft. She's always hanging around you anyway. She likes you too. Take were away from the others so you can be alone and ravage her like you know you want to.
Nick shook his head.
Savage or ravage.
Neither one sounded particularly appealing to Nick. But one uncomfortable truth was abundantly clear. Regardless of whether it was gluttony or lust, one way or another, Judy made him hungry, and that was a complication none of them needed right now. Not so long as they were on the run. Hiding from the very law that Judy used to serve and protect. All of them, himself, Judy, Otterton, Manchas, and Finnick, the last thing they needed was one more thing to worry about.
So, Nick removed himself from the rabbit.
He found Finnick inside the barn. A old building that might have a one time been used for storing grain or hay, it now served as the Hopps' garage. The family's farm truck was parked inside. Nick recognized it instantly as the one Carrots had driven when she spontaneously appeared at his little sanctuary under the bridge, announcing that she was wrong, and she was sorry, and she needed his help. He remembered how she pressed his face to his chest and how his heart nearly stopped when she pressed herself against him, unenthusiastically trying to grab at the recorder pen he held.
Forcing his eyes away from the truck -and by extension, the memory- Nick turned his attention to the other vehicle in the garage-barn. Finnick's van.
It used to be a bold and vibrant shade of red, adorned with a provocative fantasy mural on one side. Since beginning their exile from the city, however, Finnick had apparently painted it blue. A solid blue van. No more provocative artwork. Nick's heart almost broke for his friend. Fin worked hard on that mural. He was a bit of an amateur painter and took great pride in his work -what little work he did.
Finnick was on the other side of the newly painted van. Sitting on an overturned bucked, a sketch pad in one paw, a pencil in the other, and a small herd of bunny kits surrounding him.
"What are ya drawing?"
"Can you draw me?"
"How old are you?"
"Can you draw Shopkins?"
"Are you our age?"
"If you're a grown-up how come I'm taller than you?"
The attention seemed to be just a little to much for the diminutive little fennec fox because at that last question, she threw his blank drawing pad down and shot to his feet. "That's it! All of you! Get out! Go away! Leave me alone!"
There was a collective gasp as the herd of young bunnies took one uniform step away from him.
Finnick hmph'd and sat back down.
The herd surged forward again.
"Why are you so mad all the time?"
"Is it because you had to leave the city?"
"Is it because you're so short?"
"Is it because you had to paint over your picture of the girl-fox with the boobies?"
Nick couldn't help but laugh. Unlike their parents, these kits didn't seem afraid of foxes or predators at all. Whether that was the ignorance of youth, or Judy's progressive influence on the next generation, he didn't know. Either way, it was adorable. And -to spite his obvious annoyance and hostility- Finnick kinda appreciated it too. It was the only reason Nick could think of that the other fox didn't threaten to bite any of them. They were annoying him. But they were also completely comfortable and unafraid around him. To a predator -even one as antisocial as Finnick- that meant a lot.
His laugh drew the attention of the herd and Nick regretted it the moment he saw over a dozen pairs of wide, innocent, bunny eyes -many of them the same shade of amethyst as Carrots' own- turn to him. Soon the red fox found himself surrounded and suffering the same onslaught he'd just inadvertently rescued Finnick from.
"You're the one that helped Aunt Judy find the Missing Mammals! Are you also a cop?"
"Why are you so much taller than your friend? Is he really a fox?"
"Are you brothers?"
"Shut-up, stupid! Not all foxes are related!"
"Do you like our Aunt?"
"She's my sister."
Nick stared at the two that made that exchange. They looked to be identical in age. If it weren't for the fact that one had just called Judy his aunt while the other claimed she was his sister, he would have assumed they were kits from the same litter.
"Why are you so skinny? Is it because there's no meat here for you to eat?"
"Grandpa Stu says you're gonna eat us if we don't behave."
"What's it like living in the city?"
"Do you live next to a celebrity?"
"Do you know Gazelle?"
"You're eyes are so green!"
"Are you Robin Hood?"
Now it was Finnick's turn to laugh. Falling off his bucket-seat as he roared his amusement at Nick's expense. The fennec fox wiped a tear from his eye as he looked at the group. "Oh, man... they think you're Robin Hood. I guess all red foxes must look the same to them."
"Nu-uh!" Protested the one who had asked the Robin Hood question. He was a bit smaller than the others. Either from a younger litter or else the runt of a contemporary litter. It was hard to tell. They were all around the same general age and all from the same family, so they all smelled so similar. He wore a blue t-shirt that had to be hand-me-down from an older sibling because it was at least two sizes to large for him, the hem of the shirt sagging down below his knees. "Gideon Gray's a red fox and he looks nothing like Robin Hood!"
"That because Gideon's fat!" Said another bunny, female this time.
"Daddy says its good that he's fat." Announced another female kit. "It means he's well fed and doesn't wanna eat us."
"That's not what my mom said." One of the ones that claimed Judy as aunt instead of sister interjected. "She says its because he spend all day stuffing his face with pie and doesn't exercise. She says he's to lazy to be a threat."
"Well, Nanna Bonnie says you should never trust a skinny cook!" Argued yet another.
Deciding that the herd was adequately distracted by itself, Nick wove his way between the tiny bunnies until he was out of the center of the group. He went to stand next to (hide behind) Finnick whom had retrieved his sketch pad and pencil.
"Little terrors, aren't they." Commented the small fox.
"I'm beginning to understand why Carrots was so eager to move to the city." Nick agreed. He turned around, looking for something to sit on. Another bucked, or a crate, or a hay bale -that was a thing farmers kept in barns, right? Hay bales. Instead, all Nick saw was that the runt kit in the over-sized blue shirt had followed him from the herd. "Oh. Hello, again."
The kit sucked on his thumb, staring at Nick with a critical, almost assessing gaze. He took his thumb out of his mouth and hopped closer to the red fox. "I'm Richard."
"That means your nickname is Dick."
"Huh?" The bunny blinked.
Finnick snorted.
Nick realized he said something that could be considered inappropriate. "I mean- what do you want?"
Richard hopped around him. Skipped was really more like it. Light and playful. Optimistic and cheerful. "Are you sure you're not Robin Hood? He was on the run too, ya know. I read all about him in school last year. Our teacher, Ms. Sharla makes us do a report every year on a famous Mammal that's not our own species. For history. I was gonna do the Lionheart, but Jaime was already doing that one, so I got Robin Hood. He was also a red fox, ya know."
"I know." Nick muttered, but Richard appeared not to notice. He just continued to ramble on and skip around as if the fox hadn't spoken.
"And he was also on the run and wanted by the government. Well, mostly just Prince John and the Sheriff. And he lived before they had cameras, so all the pictures of him were drawings, or paintings. But you look a lot like those drawings and paintings. So, are you sure you're not Robin Hood?"
Rubbing a paw over his face in frustration, Nick gave up on his search for a makeshift chair and just sank down to sit on the floor -ignoring the fact that Finnick was still laughing at him. "Stand still, Skippy, you're making me dizzy!"
The bunny did stop hopping circles around him -and then to the fox's great horror, crawled into his lap as if he were a old and trusted family friend and it was the most natural thing in the world for a baby bunny to willingly and enthusiastically crawl into a fox's arms. Nick froze. Starring down at the bundle of soft gray fur that looked up at him with innocent and trusting amethyst eyes so similar to Carrots' own.
In an attempt to regain some composure, Nick cleared his throat. "Okay. First of all, 'Robin Hood' isn't a name. Its a title. A title neither I -nor any fox- has earned since the days of the great Hood."
"So, then, you could be Robin Hood!" The bunny beamed up at him.
"What?" Nick blinked.
Finnick dropped his sketch pad again.
Skippy hopped out of the fox's lap excitedly. Tugging on Nick's hand to try and pull him back to his feet. "Yeah! Yeah! You can totally be Robin Hood!"
As he was pulled along by the tiny kit a third his size, Nick thought about the portrait of Robin Goodfellow hidden under cot and couldn't help but wonder what kind of cruel prank the trickster god was playing on him.
…