Judy turned as quickly as she could, moving behind Big Gid so that she could not see him, but hoping more than anything that he could not she her. Were it Sir Grav's real self she had courage aplenty to stand against him, stare him down until he blinked; but here, in her mind, where the maddening absence of soul in his voice shook her to the core… it would be too great a test of the already precarious safeguards keeping her sane. No, she decided, This is no time to play hero. Sissy will find me at sundown, I will get Briar's name, and then… go to sleep, I guess. Or spend some time with my friends here, maybe that can strengthen the safeguards enough to get me back. A heavy paw patted her back, yet it felt lighter than a feather.
"I know," whispered Big Gid, "I hate the smell, too, but it's only for a little bit." Judy nodded in agreement, watching as the ropes and pulleys lifted from the hold the first of many crate- and barrel-laden pallets. As the sun slowly sank to the horizon, the pallets continued to rise up, taken by foxes and rabbits working in shifts, and Big Gid as perhaps the greatest asset; he would squat and hold out his arms, patient as others stacked boxes and barrels into his grasp, and then guided him down the ramp to unload him again (Judy assured to stay as close to him as possible). All the while, Judy felt Sir Grav's intense gaze upon her, and it kept her vigilant to act as much to her withdrawn, shy persona as she could.
The final pallet boasted a single, large, metal crate bound in a thick tarp secured to prevent any wandering eyes (and the sea breeze played a foul trick on Judy's mind to think she heard breathing within). It was clear that this one would require more than simply Big Gid to carry, though he was definitely part of the team which lifted it, while Judy was on the team to guide it down the ramp and onto the port. At the waiting was a motorized vehicle, one Judy saw was something she knew as a truck (and heard Sir Grav's boasts about the power of the latest engine, that he was inspired by a local merchant to get one of his own). This was, in turn, loaded up as twilight grew darker, but not by she and Big Gid; Sir Grav called them aside.
"I could not help but notice," he said with a brilliantly false smile, "how well you two work together. Your coordination is nothing short of entertaining. Quite the feat, as it is something I've only seen in mated foxes. Are you, perhaps, brothers?" Sir Grav tucked under an arm his cane, a posh piece of equipment with a handle plated in golden leaves and branches, so that he might reach into his vibrantly red overcoat to pull out the metal case Judy recalled from the night of Lovey's performance. Both foxes remained silent as he flicked open the case to pull out another red, black-tipped cigarette to hold between his lips, snapping the case shut to stow it once more.
"No, Sir, we's cousins," Big Gid answered when Sir Grav address themed, both keeping their heads and eyes down.
"Ah yes, of course," Sir Grav said softly, patronizingly, and reached into a different pocket, one on the outside and nearer the hip of his coat, to pull out a single match. "It takes a great deal of trust to do what you can without so much correspondence," he said, and held out the match towards Judy. She glanced up from beneath the bill of her cap at Sir Grav's expectant paw, and chanced a glimpse to Big Gid, but he provided no answer other than that he looked as confused and wary as she did.
So, Judy stepped forward, silently accepting the ignitable length of wood as Sir Grav leaned in the slightest bit, holding the cigarette in his mouth. She only lifted her head enough to see below his nose, and then sparked the match with her claw (something she'd seen her older relatives do plenty of times), cradling the flame in the hollow of her palm against the seaside wind. The warmth felt nice, and the light on her face relaxed her a little bit as she lit the cigarette, watching as the paper smoldered and the smoke stung.
The odor was putrid, however, despicable, like enmity incarnate and it made tears well; not from pain or sadness, though, rather the injustice that something like that could exist, much less in her own mind. Judy's face set as she stared at the fox-fur cigarette, knowing that it was not a last resort for the destitute as Lovey believed but a punishment to "claim a debt", and it set her blood to roil and churn in ways she had not felt in a long, long time. It took every ounce of willpower not to strike it from Sir Grav's mouth, knowing that it would be the last thing she ever did in that dreamworld, and with her goal so close it would be folly to pick a fight now. I need to make this world a better place before I can even start with the real one, and that's the first thing I'll do once I'm out of here, she determined, What "savior" could I be if I let such evil reside in my own heart?
"Where have I seen those eyes before?" cooed Sir Grav. The bill of Judy's cap raised enough that their eyes indeed locked, and with the match illuminating her face she did not even have the waning sun's shadow to hide in. She tried to look away, but it seemed every steel virtue upholding her heart and spirit objected to an iota ceded to him. "Such beautiful, righteous eyes. I know they ring a bell…" he said, holding the cigarette from his lips. Judy ducked away, flicking her wrist to snuff the match and walk back towards Big Gid. "Hold," Sir Grav commanded, and tapped his cane once into the dock, "Do not turn away from your punishment, Mr. Fox, or it will worsen."
Punishment…? Judy doubted, but cringed as sense refilled her, I stared at him too long. A stupid, stupid rule, but I need to pick my battles, especially when I'm so close to getting what I need. So, obediently, she faced the consequences of her actions, watching from beneath the bill of her cap at his body language.
"Good lad," he said, releasing a puff of smoke to waft into her face, "A fair piece of advice, Mr. Fox: know what you are." Quick as a whip, his wrist flicked the ebony shaft of his cane to strike at Judy's arm, a strike that would surely sting but leave no lasting, visible mark. Except he missed, or rather, she dodged.
Judy's police training and sense of justice no longer allowed this degradation, and though she could not fix a broken world from where she stood, she could at least defy one act of cruelty. The cane whiffed with precision, snapping in such a way that if Judy leaned to the side it would never hit her; and so she did. Her keen, violet eyes watched his movements with honed understanding. Yes, Sir Grav could boast some degree of martial prowess, but she was better, faster, slyer. In a swift, violent motion Sir Grav stepped forward in a fencer's attack at the side of her head, but Judy responded in kind with a momentary step back to dodge a second time. A third strike he readied by tossing the cane in the air to catch the other end and then swinging in a wide, punishing arch, but her forearm sprang up to deftly block it, catching the shaft beneath the golden-headed cane to use the muscle and fur of her arm as a cushion of the blow.
Once more, their eyes locked in the waning light, and hers seemed to shine with rebellious purity against his dark, unamused animosity. Sir Grav lowered his cane, though, holding at its middle and watching her return to Big Gid. He pulled out a second case, more of a box, which he put out his cigarette in and then stored the remaining stub, before approaching the large fox.
That was really stupid of me, Judy worried, feeling the momentary rush of battle drain to leave behind momentary regret, knowing that she just stood up to a knight of the Blessed Court. If she were staying in the Burrow beyond that evening it would spell serious trouble for her, and surely anyone close to her. I've already pushed my luck to its limits, it's really a wonder things aren't worse than they are. No more heroics, no more derring do. Get Mister Briar's name and get out, she decided for the nth time, and then glanced up at the grocer, He can handle just about anything, so I shouldn't worry too much. Even if Grav hits him, he likely wouldn't feel it.
"You are… 'Big Gid', if I recall correctly," he stated, holding his cane behind his back and leaning closer to look up into the shaggy face.
The bright blue eyes darted away from Sir Grav's, even averting his face before he answered, "Y-yessir."
Standing upright once more, Sir Grav slid the cane so his grasp was nearer the end and wheeled it about to point at Judy, "And what is your cousin's name?" She saw it all, and it all happened in an instant. Big Gid's head pivoted towards the gray vixen as Sir Grav's arm and body pulled back to ready a swing, but his movements were fast and the golden head swung up into Big Gid's blindspot, connecting with his jaw in a sickening crack that sent the giant stumbling. Sir Grav continued, grabbing the cane with both fists at the end of his swing to wheel it around, over his own head, and striking at Big Gid's sternum to knock him onto the pier.
Were it Judy, she could have evaded each attack without so much as a graceless step, but as it was she could only watch in mounting horror as the swift-footed Sir Grav advanced, cane held like an axe swung high to bring it low, connecting with Big Gid's face again.
Thwack!
It's just a dream… Judy pleaded.
Thwack!
It's not real! she cringed.
Thwack!
I can't…!
Thwap!
It was only a dream. And Big Gid wasn't real. Judy knew this. She knew each time she defied the order of the Burrow, no matter how unjust it was, it sank her a little deeper into her own mind and chipped away at her chances of getting back to her real friends, in the real world. But she could not be true to herself if she stood by and watched such malice, even if it wasn't real. Every make believe muscle moved of their own accord, and she flung herself upon Big Gid to take the final blow on her back. Luckily, the head of the cane missed her neck so the shaft bounced off, surely to leave a wicked bruise, and she collapsed from the force while holding onto the shaggy head in sobbing, trembling desperation. But it seemed to stop the onslaught, and crying still she tucked her face into Big Gid's cheek, feeling the weak breath against her ear while carefully hugging him as close as she dared.
Sir Grav panted, and by the shuffling of his jacket it sounded like he was correcting any dishevelment from the physical exertion, and maybe he even pulled out a handkerchief to wipe clean of stray crimson drops. "You should keep a better eye on your cousin, Mr. Fox, clumsy oaf that he is," Sir Grav said, and tossed the bloodied handkerchief onto the back of Judy's head, "But then, he can hardly be blamed, can he." Sir Grav walked away, and then drove away, leaving her with the sounds of the waves against the pier and ship.
A pair of paws grabbed her from behind, so she held tighter onto the large head, "Judith…" came a soft, sororal voice.
"Sissy?" she whimpered, and looked up to find another set of bright, blue eyes looking back, and it was, it was Sissy, but wearing a weathered knit cap and a heavy, baggy coat.
"You need to let go, love, or else we can't get him into the cart."
Behind her was Big Gid's cart, and easily a dozen different foxes and rabbits standing at the ready with poles and a giant tarp for a makeshift stretcher. Judy thought she saw the cart at the dock earlier, but before she could consider it further she was carried off in a daze by the scarlet vixen as the quick crew, of both long ears and short, fastened together a means to hoist the massive fox up into his own vehicle (long since emptied of the crates). Judy watched with dawning understanding in the low sunset light about what was happening with deep, choking breaths as she attempted to wipe tears onto her sleeves.
"Hup!" said two strong laborers, one a fox and the other a rabbit, as they hoisted Judy from the pier and into the cart near Big Gid's head. Sissy hopped up beside Judy, but only for a moment to embrace her shoulders, "I shall go on ahead to the tavern and ready some treatment for him. It's up to you to assure he gets there." And she was gone.
The handkerchief wrung in her paws as she sat beside Big Gid's weakly gasping head. Judy scooted in closer, trying to lift his head into her lap, sniffing back tears as she took care to wipe his mouth, "I'm so sorry, Gid," she whimpered, listening for any signs of response. The cart was secured to a dozen strong bodies of fellow dockworkers, and with a chorus of grunts and heaves they got the vehicle rolling down the pier, accompanied by the heavy thunk of wooden wheels on wooden planks. This is all my fault, she choked, dabbing blood from his lips to clean his face, I had to be such a hero, didn't I, staring down the villain without any concern for how it affects others. Saying whatever I had to say, doing whatever I had to do… I'm nothing more than a meddler.
And then the sun sank behind the horizon; in its finality, it burst a disgusting green light, triggering the buckling whine that rang through her ears with intensity. Judy braced against it but focused on her charge, rather than her fears. It grew from a steady note to fluctuating tones, and she bristled when words formed from the din:
"Can't help a fox."
Stop it.
"Can't help… a fox."
I said, 'stop it'.
" …Can't help… he's a fox!"
You're wrong, I can help him!
"He can't help it… he's a fox!"
Wait… that sounds like… me?
"He can't help it, Grav, he's a fox!"
Judy remembered when she said that, she was six-years-old, Woodlands Elementary, playtime after lunch next to the swingset (the one with the new rubber seats that made funny fart noises if you bounced on them the right way). Grav, also six, was teasing Gideon Grey again, a fox twice his size and three years older; could have picked him up and tossed him onto the roof if he wanted to, but he never did. Never fought back, never yelled, only walked away.
Maybe that was why Judy wanted to help him. To stand up for him because maybe he could help her make the world a better place. Maybe all he needed was someone to be his friend. Judy could be his friend, she was good at that, ask anyone. Everyone liked Judy - especially Grav. So, Judy stood up for Gideon Grey, lots of times, but this time she put herself between the two boys and gave her best defense of Gideon Grey: "He can't help it, Grav, he's a fox!" The adults used it all the time, never when a fox was around but that's okay, Gideon Grey already knows he's a fox.
Well, it certainly worked! Grav backed off and promised not to pick on him, or anyone else, anymore. Judy would call that a victory! Gideon Grey wasn't too happy about it, though? He was angry and stormed off, saying, "Yeah, I'm a fox, alright!" He got real mean after that, too, started picking on others with his ferret friend, Travis Blackfoot. Whenever Judy tried to stop him, he got angry again and gave her a scowl that no one else got.
Nick had that same scowl after the press conference at the start of the pred-scare… the same look of disappointment and betrayal that confused Judy. It confused her as a child, and confused her as an adult. Until she understood what it meant. What it said. What trust meant to a fox.
"Fox." As though everything wrong with a mammal could be summed up in one word, one syllable.
Judy wept over Big Gid's face, shoulders quaking as her throat burned in choking sobs, Why…? she challenged, Haven't I apologized enough? Must I still wallow in my regrets and failures? Can I not save myself?
"Oh, are those tears for me?" came a soft groan, startling her as she looked down to a pair of eyes, one bloodshot and sporting a fat shiner, the other brilliantly blue.
Her arms wrapped around his head like the chin strap on a helmet, "Gid!" she cried, muffling his whimpers before releasing his face, "Oh my gosh, you're okay, you're okay!"
"Takes more than a li'l bunny with a stick to get Big Gid down," he chuckled, licking at his swollen lip, "I can't tell ya' how many times my cart ran me over, and I still had to chase after it. Naw, he got a lucky hit on me, and tha's that."
"You could've said so sooner!" she exclaimed, somewhere between laughter, sobbing, and indignation, "I thought he gave you a concussion, or something."
"I'm bein' carted off to a tavern with my head in the lap of the Burrow's cutest vixen," he grinned, "Lemme enjoy this."
"I should smack you," she warned in a smirk, raising a fist over his nose to which he held up both palms in feigned submission. She wiped away tears of joy and grief as his paws lay at his sides, "I'm so sorry, Big Gid, I know he hit you because of me."
"Yeah, and he gonna get in trouble for it," smirked the large fox.
"What? How do you mean?"
"It's because I didn't take your hits for you and he wallops on me anyway, which ain't square," he began, continuing when her confusion persisted, "When a fox gets caught slyin' a bunny, the bunny gets to hit 'em, fair's fair, but can't hit 'em hard unless the fox runs or if another takes the hit instead. I was gonna take your hard hit for ya' if you kept not gettin' hit like you was, but then you took his full swing!" He then grinned smugly, "The whole dock must've seen it, and Sir Grav's been tricky for a bunny, so this is a long time comin'."
"It was a basic defense, and I saw his attack from a mile away," she playfully dismissed, but beamed all the same, "Still, those rules are kind of… depressing…"
"Oh, don't be depressed, Jude, you're pretty when you smile."
"Thanks, Big Gid," she swooned, and gave him a smile while caressing his cheek until his eyes closed, and then her thoughts buzzed like a hornets' nest. Depression… she considered, eyes brightening as the streetlights flickered on, one-by-one by the trusty lamplighters, I… I'm depressed. I haven't cried this much since my pet bird died as a kid, and then when I saw Nick again under the bridge, and it seems like everything I do hits me with a sackful of guilt. The longer I've stayed down here, the heavier everything's felt, the harder it is to do anything. It was like this back at the start of the pred-scare, after I left the city and withdrew into myself for weeks. Am I… clinically depressed right now?
The thought was ironically uplifting, and for the first time since she fell into the Burrow, she saw the moon. It was a frail sliver of silver hanging high in the sky, but it seemed to grow brighter as her mind kept running, The Night Howler drug causes depression, but why? she wondered, What possible use would anyone have for a drug that causes depression? There are so many drugs to stop it, but why… what if Robert Briar was clinically depressed? Judy gasped, With his fur color and age group that could narrow him down substantially, so much so I wouldn't even need his nickname. If he was depressed, he might've even… she halted, and didn't continue that thought, This is enough to build a profile, and with Nick's help I can find him. Thanks, Sissy, you gave me what I needed to figure it out for myself, just like you always do, she grinned with growing determination.
Judy looked down at the reposed giant resting his head in her lap, and discretely pulled out the notebook. "Give my love to Sissy and Nick," Judy whispered, and leaned in to kiss his nose before opening up a blank page to stare at it, fingering the charcoal pencil. Okay, time for a crazy idea, and with it held close against her chest so no one else could see, she wrote, "Dawson: EVAC!", closed the notebook to tuck inside her coat pocket, crossed her arms, and held her eyes shut as tight as she could. Judy thought of being a rabbit, of long ears and buck teeth, of a shorter tail and nose. She thought of the farm, of her parents, of her friends, waiting for her to return. Hopps out.
It was still dark. The air was cool and the aroma of plants welcomed her, but not with the harsh sensitivity of a fox's sense of smell; no, hers was a bunny's nose, wiggling once more. Her long ears rose up to swivel at the sound of wheels, and paired with the slow forward momentum, she was clearly seated in a wheelchair. Like before, her arms were weak and legs refused to move, even movement of the neck and head proved difficult, but she could still move her paws, fingers, and toes. Tired, violet eyes opened and weak, smacking lips wavered with each harried (but increasing) breath.
"Take care, Miss Hopps, you are still in recovery," instructed a gentle, masculine voice from behind, likely enough whoever was pushing the wheelchair. He sounded familiar, but as of yet, unplaced.
She tried to speak, but her throat hurt so badly and her chest under such pressure, that breathing was all she managed to do. Still, her head rose and eyelids lightened, looking about to find the most beautiful garden a bunny could have the fortune to witness. Tall, ornate lamps lined the smooth-stoned path to a grand archway. She was garbed in what must be her finest gown, clutching in one paw a fancy notebook and pencil. It was like lightning shot through her as she looked about, attempting to panic but her body was far too weak.
"Miss Hopps!" said the voice again, and the wheelchair stopped when a tall, naval uniformed rabbit with golden fur and eyes the brown of rain-soaked soil came around to kneel beside her, "Please be calm, my lady, or else you could fall to brain fever again; and then Sir Grav would surely have my foot," he explained, daring a smirk at the end of his sentence.
I'm Lovey… Judy realized, paw weakly gripping around the notebook in her lap, Which means it's too late. She collapsed into the wheelchair from whatever upright position her powerless form could muster, and felt a defeat she never thought she'd ever know. As a fox, I was safe from the effects of a drug designed for a bunny, at least for a little while, but now… I am surely succumbed to it. What little strength remained in her propped an elbow on arm of the wheelchair to cover her eyes in a palm.
"Shall we return to the manor, my lady?" Mister Briar asked.
Judy… Lovey looked to him and managed a smile with a slow shake of her head. A word was attempted but her throat stung again.
He smiled patiently, sadly, "The healers proclaim it a miracle that you are out of bed only a week after being afflicted with brain fever, but… they don't know if you'll ever talk… or sing again, my lady, not after that scream took your voice away."
Listening, Lovey felt reality settling upon her shoulders, so as any proper lady should, she squared them and corrected her posture. Without a voice, she pulled up the notebook and flipped through it slowly: "Night Howler causes depression", "Male rabbit, gold fur, brown eyes, mid-to-late 20's, clinical depression", "Hexward", along with everything else she learned as a fox. When a blank page was next found, she wrote, "Name?".
A kind chuckle left his lips when he gave an amused smile, "I am still Robert Briar, honorably tasked as your escort until you are fully recovered."
"Nick Name?" Lovey added to the note.
Surprised, his eyes darted up from the paper to her own set gaze, and what it asked was so sincere that Mister Briar hardly seemed able to deny such a request, "When those close to me are especially unpeeved, I am known as 'Bertie', my lady."
"Lovey," she wrote on the next page, paused, and then added: "I insist".
Bertie held his breath, knowing that such intimacy with a lady above his station was… unbecoming, but to deny her request would surely be worse, so he nodded with a gentle smile, "As you wish, Lovey."
"Grav?" Lovey jotted down on the next page, but added a "Sir" before showing it.
"He is preparing the Blessed Queen's gift, and will join us after presenting it," Bertie explained in a low, dreading tone, but was unable to stop himself from continuing, "Ever since it came in, his fortune turned dark. Never have I seen him so upset, Lovey, and I fear the worse for… whatever this 'gift' is."
"Why?" Lovey hurriedly wrote with eager curiosity.
Bertie glanced around with a sweep of his ears, and then leaned in as close as he dared to whisper, "Word spread as the wind ever since he struck a fox without right to do so. Some say he is cursed, and cannot go the hour without some bad luck finding him, one way or another. Sir Grav intends to find favor with Her Majesty, the Blessed Queen with a gift of great fortune."
"What gift?" Lovey wrote, but Bertie shook his head.
"I only heard mutterings when he teetered on madness, until I gleaned some information about it last night," he explained. At her gesturing to continue Bertie set his face resolutely, "I am sorry, my lady, but to relay what I heard would only send you back to the sickbed-" but halted when she grabbed his arm with a strength he did not think was still in her. Yes, he was steeled in his conviction, but even without a voice her conviction rang truer still. Bertie sighed, and leaned in further, "I only heard Sir Grav say 'His shaggy head will make a grand gift'," and continued at her distraught reaction, "We can still return to the manor, Miss Hopps."
"Lovey, I insist," she showed again and placed a paw on his knuckles, to which Bertie nodded. She sat upright and looked down the garden path to the palace and its majestic architecture; running was not an option. If this is going to be my personal purgatory, Judy determined, then I'm nipping this in the bud. I will neither abide nor fear evil in my own heart; perhaps a day late and a dollar short to return topside, but here, I might as well be queen. Bertie guided her into the warmth and light of the regal outdoor sconces, the door held open by an armored guard in shining steel armor and brilliant crimson tabards with white trim, the crest of which she recognized: Knotash… does that mean the "Blessed Court" really is the House of Blessings? The ship's sails were up so I didn't see the crest there, but here… they're everywhere. I guess that's a good sign, Knotash has always been a refuge for the less fortunate.
There was not a single fox to meet them on their way inside from the garden, only the long ears of the palace servants and guards, either scurrying as leaves on the wind or standing still as stones, respectively. Lovey could hear a faint ado coming from behind a set of heavy oaken doors, bursting with the commotion of a royal court. Within a brilliantly lit hall with high, vaulted ceilings, draped in beautiful banners and ornate decor, must have been several hundred bunnies seated at tables around a wide, carpeted walkway that lead to, what Lovey could immediately see, was a tall, deified throne, and atop which sat only the Blessed Queen herself. She was a dainty bunny with soft, pure white fur (that which could be seen), and garbed in violet, silver, and red finery; her diadem, a beautiful piece of silver craft inlaid with amethysts and rubies, covered her face with a gossamer veil.
Bertie wheeled her past the gentry, and the knights, and the dukes and earls and lords, up until he, himself, could go no further. "I shall be nearby, Lovey," he whispered, and handed her off to an albino rabbit with pale white fur and bright pink eyes, the herald of the Blessed Queen. He said nothing, but looked very anxious, though he tried to smile, and was checking a bright gold pocket watch on their approach. In the back of her mind, Lovey remembered seeing him in the audience of her last performance; perhaps it was he who told the Blessed Queen about her. "Pardon our tardiness, Mister McTwisp, but the fresh air did Miss Hopps a world of good," Bertie explained, and departed as the herald wheeled Lovey further in. Further in, further in, until her chair stopped to the left of Her Majesty's throne. Lovey could hardly know what to feel, sitting mere feet away from the Blessed Queen, and wondered if it was because it might help her heal, being so close to the most powerful source of magic in the Burrow.
"Presenting," called Mister McTwisp when he returned to his own position, "Sir Grav of the Blessed Court, with a gift for Her Majesty the Blessed Queen to bring her and her reign great fortune." At the far end, the double doors, immense and intimidating, ornate and magnificent, opened with a quiet groan from the wood and iron. In walked Sir Grav in his finest coat of white and dark blue, marching with purpose as his wretched cane kept pace. Behind him was a truly enormous metal crate.
That was from the ship, Judy recognized, But it was re-wrapped since I saw it… I guess it was less than an hour ago, but a week by this place's time. It's way too big for Gid, in any case, so maybe it really is a giant good luck charm. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief, but kept her eyes on the approaching Sir Grav with his crew of rabbits pulling the crate along.
"Your Majesty," he said in absolute deference and admiration, falling to a knee before the throne, cane and hat on the ground beside him, "By blessing of the court, I bring before you, Your Highness, an item of such profound, voluminous luck that it shall keep the kingdom safe for centuries…" He looked up, and glanced to Lovey with those dark, malevolent eyes, but only for instant before they darted to the Blessed Queen. A gesture of permission was all her response, and all the reason Sir Grav needed to jump to his feet and pivot to face his crew. The bindings and tarp pulled away, revealing a cage to the astonishment, wonder, shock and awe of the court.
A lion…? Judy gawked. A great, tawny fellow, crouched inside the cage with a muzzle locked around his shaggy, maned head, thick steel shackles anchoring him to the mobile platform. He looked starved, beaten, disrobed and barely moving, barely flinching when he was revealed. But… why? Who? Could he be Lionheart? He'd be the most prominent lion I can think of, or Nurse Wild, whom I saw only today in the real world. Then again, he could be Officer Delgato, since we're on the precinct bowling team, or Officer Johnson, because I babysat his kids once or twice. He could even be that nice newspaper vendor down the street from my apartment; but why? Is it because Gideon imagined a lion as a child, so now I'm imagining one? Countless thoughts of symbolism involving lions raced through her head in an instant, from courage to pride, nobility to ferocity, strength to laziness.
"…I need only to remove it from the beast's body," Sir Grav explained to knowing, sparse amusement of the court. The tarp which covered the cage was spread across the carpeted walk further along, and so wheeled over.
…What? Judy disbelieved.
"But first," he went on, talking as the crew of rabbits worked with systematic fluidity to remove the wheels and walls of the cage to set it upon the tarp, "I shall cleanse its curse; by the blessing of the court." Once more, Her Majesty gestured approval. In were brought thin glass walls and erected, braced on either side of the tarp so to protect the eager, onlooking rabbits of the court. Before he shrugged off his coat, he pulled a box from its pocket, loosed the decorative string, and lifted its lid. Inside was a single midnight-blue blossom of Night Howler. One of the crew received the flower and replaced it on the end of a long-shafted device; this device, as it was soon clear, was used to force the flower through the muzzle and inside the lion's mouth. Heavy ropes kept the maned head down so to remove the bindings of its jaws before the flower could take hold, and when it did his shoulders hunched, body flailed against the chains as savage power filled his weakened, growling form. "Behold, O Blessed Court, the true form that we fear," Sir Grav said in cold admiration, unmoved as the lion bellowed a carnal roar to send excited terror through the crowd, "And I, your humble knight, shall slay it." Applause thundered.
Judy watched in renewed horror, and felt she could scream. She wanted to scream in indignation, more than anything, but the pain in her throat was like hot barbs piercing her flesh. Fists gripped the arms of the wheelchair as her muscles strained to move, yet could not find the strength to even reach out, wave to get someone's attention or bang on the table. As if fear made her powerless, even though she long since found that fear could hone her senses and push her limits so long as it did not control her; now, however, it crippled her. Fear that she was too weak. Fear that she would only worsen things - and a primal fear of the savage predator. Fears she thought conquered, now welled inside her chest and burned her throat.
Sir Grav had a spear, which he used on the lion. The lion had fangs and claws, which he tried to use on Sir Grav. Judy could not bear to watch it, but to turn away would mean she let it happen. She looked up at the Queen, pleading in hoarse gasps until it might rend her throat to speak only once, "No more…" she tried. To this, the royal ear shifted and the veiled face turned in address to Lovey. With a single gesture, the court quieted and Sir Grav ceased, though the lion still bellowed and raved; with a second gesture, Sir Grav was instructed to end the event, and did so with a final spear thrust.
No… Judy revulsed, for worse of all was the court's deafening applause. She wanted to scream. To scream until every gasp in her lungs ran dry, regardless of the pain. However, the Silver Belle does not scream. Likewise, the Steel Horn does not scream. "Monsters…" she rasped, fighting through the searing agony, gulping down the fire in her chest, and then "Monsters!" she rang, a voice which filled a concert hall now burst the courtroom as she scoured her body for the strength to rise up, "Fiends! Demons guised in mortal flesh! How can you do this to your fellow mammal, to revel in their torment and despair? You evil, bloodthirsty monsters!"
The court stared with empty eyes and empty faces, color draining along with the banners and tablecloths, carpets and drapes, everything turned lethargic gray to crumble. All the masks faded and disappeared, all the fronts and all the falsities. There was no more imagination to hide behind, no more dreams to blind the mind, only a harsh acceptance of what it all, truly was.
"And you…" Judy choked, addressing the single remaining bunny, "the 'Blessed Queen' indeed, doling out edicts and sentences regardless of who they hurt." She looked about at the void, decaying courtroom, once filled with smiling façades now only ghosts and tragic recollections, "This isn't a 'memory palace' or a lucid dream, and there were never any 'safeguards'. It's where I withdrew in my depression, blaming myself for the pred-scare, wallowing in my first transgression and up to my last. I hurt so many innocent predators, all because I thought I knew better." She looked up to the throne again, and it was taller than before. All the things she called herself, this "Blessed Queen" amongst every other accusation echoing in the empty hall, and each built that throne higher, gaudier, adorned with depictions of rabbits and other prey species holding the seat at the very top… while on the backs of foxes and other predator species. Her Majesty was so high she seemed miles away, and yet still so close that Judy could feel her breath through the veil she wore.
But… there was one thing Judy never dared to say, to utter or even consider, and perhaps it was withholding this one thing back which made it all the worse to begin with. Here, at the end of it all, at the very bottom of her heart, she resolved to do one thing, to say that one thing she needed all her courage to say: "I forgive you". With that, a hairline crack shot up the throne like a bolt of lightning, and widened when joined by a storm of rupturing crevices, sending immense wedges of the pale stone to fall, to collapse and turn to ash before it hit the ground. And as goes the throne, so goes the kingdom…
The courtroom quaked and windows shattered, masonry fell to break through the floor and foundation with a thunderous din. When the ceiling eroded and fell, the sky above was not a starry night but a deathly pallor extending to the horizon, where it met with a vile black edge. As the cloud of dust and ash settled, Judy swept over a razed landscape, the purple of her eyes now a sickly pale gray to match the state of her fur. She looked down to find the tarnished diadem, jewels gone and veil torn, and had only the single comforting thought that she held no more regrets, save one.
The heap of ash atop which she stood shifted like sand over a sinkhole, churning violently into a whirlpool that soon revealed a yawning abyss. Judy watched as the kingdom of dust drained away into the ever-widening aperture, a roaring gale whipped about her but she only stared as it all fell away until nothing remained. Nothing… except the lion's shifting form. One arm, and then the other, pushed against an unseen ground to lift up, to stand, to stare back.
Judy filled with a primal fear as the lion advanced and grew, larger and larger, to a size that a mammal had no right to be. He towered, colossal, standing in the abyss yet his head reached into the sky. She gazed up at her final transgression, whom she brought into being only to witness his painful death, and whom approached to reciprocate. Though she had only a shred of courage to spare, Judy held it close and lifted her chin, "If this is the consequence of my cowardice," she said, "then so be it."
"Beloved," whispered the lion, in a voice softer than the echo of a butterfly's wing, yet louder than overhead thunder, he reminded her, "You are brave."
From his breath came a small, powerful golden flame that spread over his lips and to his face, until it enveloped his mane in a tremendous burst of noonday sunlight, so bright yet also painless to look at. The force of those words shook the ash from her like the dirt off a carrot drawn out of the earth, but yet, it was no more powerful than a sigh as she was pulled back into a familiar embrace. The sky above was brilliant blue, checkered with full, white clouds, while the ground was covered in rolling fields of jade and emerald grass. Judy lay in comfort, and warmth, in relief, in Bo's arms.
"It's okay, Juju, I gotcha," he said. Bo said many things, but what endeared him was what he didn't say, or couldn't say. The last time he pulled her back from the edge, and she was still figuring it all out, Judy asked him why he loved her; and he could only answer that he loved her ever since they first met as kids, and that he would love her until it was the last thought he could ever think. As to why, however… he could never explain why, as though he could not explain why "2 + 2 = 4", only that it was a simple, irrefutable fact of life.
So there she was, with her simple, foundational rock Bo, at the end of it all. Judy wondered if he was always there, though; in Nic's empowerment and adoration of her, in Big Gid's bashfulness and strength, in Sissy's protectiveness and embrace, even in Bertie's eyes and voice. Always at the ready to catch her if she got too close to the abyss. "So," she finally muttered after an instantaneous eternity nestled in Bo's chest, "this begins my life as a vegetable. It's not so bad, really, all things considered."
"What about everything you learned?"
Judy looked down at her paws, holding her trusty notebook with the metal spiral, and the carrot pen in which she recorded important memos to herself. "I suppose Nick would need them to solve the case," she sighed, smiling to herself, "And Gideon would probably stop baking if he thought his whipped cream put me into a coma." Her thumb brushed the pen's button, "There's something recorded on this, isn't there?" Judy asked.
"Ayeup," confirmed Bo.
"Do I know what it is?"
"Double 'ayeup'," he chuckled.
It certainly felt like she did, so Judy grinned contentedly while thinking on what the lion told her, "Who was he?"
"Someone you know, but haven't met, yet."
"Hey, Bo…" she said after a pause, and looked up, "What was that thing you would say to me, to calm me down?"
"That the world is made a better place because you're in it," he answered, resting his cheek to her forehead.
"I mean… the other thing."
"Oh," Bo said, and smiled simply, "My world is made a better place because you're in it."
Judy quietly moaned her affirmation, and hooded her eyes serenely, watching as the sun drifted to the horizon once more, "I should head back, shouldn't I."
"Another minute couldn't hurt," Bo said, "but they would be lost without you, wouldn't they."
"As I would be lost without them," Judy knew, and looked up at a starlit panorama as its waxing gibbous moon glowed brighter, brighter until it was full, and her eyes opened at long last.
