Hafsa doesn't spiral, she pirouettes. With every new low she reaches, she is always determined to leap out of rock bottom, scratching and clawing her way back up to the top. After all, one can hardly think about how miserable one is when there is not even a spare moment to reflect on matters. When failed her first test ever in middle school, she color coded her entire wardrobe. When she nearly ate Desmond, she finished a week's work of assignments in one afternoon. And now that she's effectively cut her best friend off, she's been having one of the most productive summers of her life. From studying to socializing, she's made sure to fill her days up from dawn to dusk with entertaining activities. As far as coping mechanisms go, it's a nifty one; no emotional labor necessary.
Maintaining her social influence and popularity is painless, it's something she's done all her life to the point where its nearly muscle memory. Interacting with herbs especially is a must in order to maintain her reputation. She just can't let it go as far as it did wit Desmond. If she puts on her mask (and her nasal strip) and hits the "auto pilot" button in her brain, she will transform back into the Serval Hafsa who is only biologically a carnivore. The Serval Hafsa who is uncomplicated, shallow, superficial, then who never lets on anything she truly thinks. The one who nearly disappeared after meeting him.
So, she pirouettes through movies, walks through the parks, study groups, shaping sprees, amusement parks, book reports and late-night phone calls until there's only one week left of vacation.
And she's fine. No really, she is. It serves her right.
On the final Monday of freedom, she decides to spend the day with Mari, as she was one of the few animals that wasn't in a panic-induced cram session to start and finish all of their summer assignments. After spending a day baking under the sun in the city center, doing nothing in particular, they end up resting at a popular boba shop.
"It's basically all cured," Mari smiles, tracing a fine line from her right temple to her cheek with her index finger. "There's only a tiny little mark but I just cover it with makeup."
Hafsa takes a final sip of her boba tea with a worried expression. "I'm still really sorry for scratching you in the first place."
The ringtail flicks her wrist as if to dismiss the idea altogether. "You've already apologized like, three billion times already, Hafsa. It's fine, accidents happen."
"I still feel bad…" the serval mutters.
"No bad vibes, girl. This is the last week of summer vacation, don't go raining on my parade with those puppy dog eyes."
"Last time I checked, I was definitely a cat, not a dog." Hafsa giggles. "Some felines would take offense to that."
"Hardy har." Mari glances at her phone, and her yellow eyes widen. "Ah shoot, is it that late already? I need to go home, I have piano practice soon."
"That's fine," Hafsa says, setting down her now empty plastic cup. "We're done here anyways."
The two females exit the boba shop into the warm summer evening. The city brims full of young animals, trying to make the most of the short 144 hours left of vacation before the dreaded return to academic normality. Groups of friends knee-deep in shopping sprees, some rogue gang of children playing a noisy game of tag through the wide lanes, drowsy couples still finding excuses to hang around each other for just a few more minutes. The crepuscular beauty of late summer tinges the spiced air with a hint of bittersweetness.
The girls set their sights towards the bike lot where Mari had chained up her bicycle (to the serval's internal annoyance, the lemur had begun riding bikes everywhere she went, and telling everyone about this lifestyle change at any given opportunity). The walk is only a couple of blocks down, so the duo takes their time so that they can squeeze a few more talking points into the walk.
"Your birthday's coming up soon, isn't it?" Mari asks.
The serval smiles coyly. "Yep. It's such an inconvenient date. I mean, right in the beginning of the second semester?"
"Aw, but then you can celebrate with everyone!" Mari offers. "One of the advantages of board schools. We're gonna hype you up all day. Maybe lug you around in one of those ceremonial thrones."
"He he, that's a bit much." Hafsa giggles. Though really, that kind of thing sounds right up her alley. Yet another thought that will die unexpressed.
After they arrive at the bike lot, and hug goodbye, Hafsa waves at Mari until she and her bike fade into the undulating sunset. It will be a lonely way back home.
Suddenly, her satellite-like ears pick up a grunting in the far end of the lot. An elderly Cheviot ewe heaves a handful of grocery bags, barely taking a step before hunching over to take a break. Hafsa perks up. A distraction.
She approaches the old sheep in the most non-threatening way she can: visible hands, a kind smile on her face and making her posture as small as possible without looking like she's lurching towards her. A technique she had long since mastered.
"Excuse me, m'am," She begins in a sugary voice. "Would you like some help carrying those groceries?"
The ewe turns to the serval. "Oh, are you sure? I have a ways to go."
"It's no trouble at all!"
The ewe smiles. "Bless you, dear. You're too kind."
Hafsa scoops up the bags from her feeble arms. To a carnivore, the bags weighed next to nothing, but it was a surprising amount for an old lady to be carrying in the first place. Then again, grandmas seem to have an endless supply of food at their houses.
"Just lead the way!" The serval chirps. "Oh, my name is Serval Hafsa, by the way."
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Serval Hafsa. You can just call me Granny." The ewe titters.
With introductions out of the way, the teenager patiently follows the older female down the bustling sideway. She glances down at her, who looks up with a wrinkly smile. It's unfortunate she is a sheep, given her particular aversion to the species at the moment. But of course, a distraction is a distraction. Now is no time to be ungrateful. Besides, this sheep is far more agreeable than all of the Jacob sheep she's met before. If only Desmond's mother were this pleasant.
"So, young lady," Granny speaks up in a raspy voice. "I believe summer vacation is almost over. Are excited to head back to school?"
"Oh, absolutely!" Hafsa declares. A white lie. "Summer vacation is fun, but I'm actually looking forward to more structure in my day."
"That's good," the sheep nods. "You sound more disciplined than most animals your age. They seem to want to run wild forever. Incidentally, what school do you go to?"
"Oh, I go to Noah's Arc."
Granny's face lights up at this. "My, isn't that lovely? I have a relative who goes there too!"
Hafsa recalls the dozens of Cheviot sheep she has seen pass her by in the halls. Perhaps one of them is this ewe's grandkid. "What a coincidence!"
"There are no such things as coincidences."
Trying not to flinch at such a cryptic comment, Hafsa attempts to lighten the mood. "That's an optimistic way of looking at things."
"It would be optimistic if I had said good things can happen by chance," Granny looks up at the serval with a newfound severity. "But any so-called coincidence is only ever the result of hard work and determination. If not from animal, then from the universe."
The serval lets out a nondescript hum, suddenly very much regretting being charitable today. She much rather prefers her intrusive thoughts to the old woman's gradually rising creepiness. Unfortunately for her, she seems to have only ignited Granny's conversation.
"Do you think it is mere coincidence you were born a serval?" She asks, her glassy eyes possessed by an internal fire.
"Um… yeah. It's not like I chose it or anything."
"Perhaps you did not, but your spirit and that with controls it did." Her expression suddenly drains of all emotion, retuning to a calm that can only be described as primordial. "You know, long ago, carnivores and herbivores were one in the same. We were all born from the common ancestor Luca, He who breathed life into the world. There was only one lifeform, one existence, and it was Luca."
Hafsa's tail swishes violently from side to side, abandoning any attempts to mask her discomfort. "So… he's like God?"
"Luca is not God because He only existed in the mortal plane. But Luca was guided by the universe, and split His form in twain. The herbivore and the carnivore, two incomplete halves of a whole. This too, was no coincidence, because He bestowed upon us intelligence and a will to carry out his mission."
She points a finger, almost accusatorially at Hafsa. "Your existence as a carnivore brings you suffering, doesn't it? Just as my existence as a herbivore does to me. That is because we are incomplete, and our spirit knows it. We can never truly be happy until we can become whole again."
Granny finally breaks her ardent gaze from the serval, now gazing around the other animals that amble around the streets and drive up and down the lanes. "Just think of how lovely the world would be if carnivores and herbivores became one again. But, as I've said, just sitting around and hoping won't do anything. As Luca's kin, we're obliged to work towards that utopia. Close the gap."
Close the gap?
Hafsa's instincts suddenly ignite in red-hot alarm. The grocery bags she's been carrying… On further inspection, they don't seem to be from any particular supermarket. No logo, no text and completely opaque. And the bags seemed to be stuffed mostly with a perfumed brown paper, crumpled up and filling the bag to the top. The scent is overpowering, some tacky floral scent with a metallic note that reminds one more of a disinfected bathroom than a flower. Wait… metallic?
With a trembling arm, she raises one of the bags to her nose. Beneath the layers of vile, wrinkled paper, she smells something…
Her fur stands on end. With a gasp, she drops all of the bags, which fall with a dull thud muffled by the sheets of paper. Hafsa gapes at the old sheep in horror, but she only reciprocates with an apathetic gaze, completely unbothered by the outburst.
"What's wrong, dear?" Granny asks with bone-chilling calm.
"I-I…" Hafsa falters. "I need to go."
Before she realizes it, she's sprinting. Her powerful legs carry her far away from the ewe. She doesn't even bother looking back for fear of seeing that horrifically calm face. She runs and runs and runs, past confused crowds and closing shops, until her serval-sized stamina finally runs out, leaving her hunched over in an empty residential street, clutching her knees to avoid collapsing altogether. She opens her mouth , which had remained tightly locked all the while, for a trembling gasp of air.
What comes out is a viscous stream of saliva. The spit oozes from between her teeth, dripping down her long fangs, gums and furred chin until it hits the concrete floor with a splatter.
There is too much energy in her body; it courses through her veins and bones like electricity, causing her to violently tremble. If she relaxed her muscles even a little, she could explode all together. Meanwhile, her mind races for explanations.
Whatever was in those grocery bags… it wasn't a scent she is familiar with. No, that's a lie. Even if she had never smelled it before, every cell inside of her knew that it was the stench of meat. Delicious, bloody, raw meat.
But why? Why would an elderly sheep of all animals be carrying bags of meat? And she kept on going on about some weird religion or something. Hafsa crosses her arms over her chest, hugging her trembling arms tightly.
That was so creepy. That was so unbelievably creepy. Oh my god, that was creepy. Yuck. Yuck yuck yuck. Yuck. I'm never going to speak to a sheep again. That was so creepy. I need to take a bath to wash all of the creepiness off of me. I feel gross. Yuck.
Hafsa walks home rubbing her arms, mourning her nose's loss of innocence on the last week of summer.
AN: Thanks for reading! So remember that whole Kin of Luca thing? No reason. Also, two chapters back to back? What is this, a competent fanfic?
And so ends the thrilling summer vacation. Next chapter will be back in Noah's Arc for the second semester. What lies in store? Hint: it's gonna be wild.
Take it easy and stay safe.