Hafsa had met Jasmine for the first and last time the week before.

She had come to the student council on a busy day. A new semester meant a new batch of events Hafsa must plan. The fall Fun Run, the pumpkin cook-off, and of course, All Animals Eve. The wolverine knocked on their door during a conference deciding what brand of hay to use for the hay maze. Since the student council door is always open to the student body, Hafsa had no choice but to allow the freshman inside.

"I won't take up much of your time…" She mutters, glancing at the pile of hay catalogues Brian was precariously balancing on his gut.

"It's fine!" Hafsa smiled and motioned for the other members to continue their work as she handled the young carnivore. The two females moved towards Hafsa's desk, Jasmine reluctantly taking a seat opposite to her.

"I'm just here to turn this in." She handed the serval a crumpled sheet of paper.

Hafsa scanned the text as her ears twitched curiously. "A letter of resignation?"

The wolverine looked down at her lap. "I'd like to quit the gardening club. I'm supposed to give this to you, right?"

"Sure…" Hafsa tilted her head. "I'm sorry, but… were you ever a part of the gardening club?"

"Yeah…"

Come to think of it, despite Priya mentioning some volunteers who occasionally water the plants, she had never turned in any official paperwork regarding new club members. Given how ignorant she was on the subject, it's likely the poor tigress simply didn't know it was something she had to do. Well, Hafsa was willing to turn a blind eye to her cute underclassman's bureaucratic faux pas.

"Well okay, I'll get this sorted out for you," Hafsa winked, waving the sheet of paper. "Any specific reason for quitting the club?"

Jasmine shrank into her seat. "Uh… do you promise not to tell anyone?"

A weight grew in Hafsa's stomach at the grave question. "Of course."

"I think the garden is haunted."

And suddenly, the weight was lifted. Damn freshman nearly scared the spots off of her for nothing. A haunted garden… Hafsa was seriously getting concerned for the state of the new generation.

"You don't say…" The serval whistled, trying to conceal a smirk. "I guess staying alone there during the afternoons can be a bit spooky."

"You don't even believe me do you?" Jasmine huffed. "I'm telling you, Isaac's ghost is haunting the garden!"

That wiped the grin off of the serval's face. "Isaac's…?"

"The Ryeland sheep. He's been haunting the club ever since the night he went missing." The younger female whispered conspiratorially. "Priya can't smell him because of her condition but I can. The whole shed reeks of him. If you go there too you'll see what I mean."

"But… but why would Isaac be haunting the garden? He went missing on the lawn."

"Well, he was a member of the gardening club. Ghosts tend to haunt places they have a strong connection to." Jasmine explained in a matter-of-fact tone. But upon looking at the president's face, she her tone changed to one of apprehension. "P-president…? Are you okay?"

The serval looked twice as large. Every strand of fur on her body stood up as if she had stuck her finger in an electric socket. Her jaw flopped uselessly up and down at the wolverine though no words managed to escape. Even the other members of the student council noticed, and shot curious looks at the distressed feline, who quickly fumbled to regain composure and avoid alarm.

"I'm fine!" She laughed nervously. "I guess I'm just more superstitious than I thought!" In a flash, she got up, rushed behind the still seated freshman and gave her a hearty clap on the shoulders. "Why don't we go there now and you can tell me more about it?"

The trip to the shed was blurred by Hafsa's frantic heartbeat. Despite her best efforts to conceal her panic, the true nature of Isaac's "ghost" could have some grim implications. The two carnivores stood at the entrance of the decrepit shack. The autumn breeze dragged dried leaves across the ribbed tin rooftop, creating a quiet scratching that made the serval's ears twitch.

"I wonder if he's here today…" Jasmine muttered and her clawed hand grabs the handle.

Inside of the shed was the typical boring scenery one would expect. Hafsa slowly crept into the room after her underclassman, unable to still her bristling tail. Jasmine closed her eyes, deep in concentration, and stuck her nose high into the musty air. She took one, two, three deep sniffs. Her beady eyes shot open.

"He's here! Isaac's here!" She yelped, rushing to hide behind the taller feline.

Hafsa took a deep breath too. It was faint, so faint that she was surprised Jasmine could have ever detected it over the empowering stench of earth and must. Then again, a wolverine's nose is far more powerful than a serval's. But she took another deep breath.

And Isaac was there.

Or rather, he had been there. For a young wolverine who had surely never been exposed to the dangerous aspects of her carnivorous nature, his scent would be nothing more than what she recognized in his fur and skin. But Hafsa had recently learned this particular perfume. One that was stuffed in the nameless white grocery bag of a sheep. Despite the mold and mildew, dust and dirt, she recognized death. Despite time and space changing around this shed, Isaac persisted, insidious like asbestos. Because on one Lupercalia evening, his life had been taken in there.

That night, Hafsa stayed at the library after closing hours thanks to a white lie directed towards the always understanding librarian Mrs. Silva about studying for an upcoming but nonexistent math test. Even though her notebooks and pens were out, she only gazed blankly at the white pages. But she had to try and work it out.

There's no denying that she had smelled blood in the shed. If Jasmine recognized the scent as Isaac, then it must have been Isaac's blood. But when was he killed? On the night of his abduction? How long had he stayed in that shed, decomposing, for his death to so ingrained into its atmosphere? If only she had smelled it during her first trip to the shed…

It was seldom visited even by members of the gardening club as both Priya and Jasmine had explained. His body could've very well stayed there over the Lupercalia weekend undetected before the predator made off with it for good. It was also never locked at night (what use is there locking up a shed filled with nothing worth stealing?), so anyone could've come and gone. This complicated things.

All she knew was that someone killed Isaac in the shed on Lupercalia night.

What amazing detective work, Sherlock. She reprimanded herself internally. Even a child could figure that out.

She needed suspects. Recalling the cursory list of names of other gardening club members Jasmine had cited, none of them stood out to her especially. They were all first years, most of them herbivores, who seemed to be willing to do the favor of just signing up and keeping the club alive. The only one who came to mind was Priya. The large carnivore who was linked to the victim and "owner" of the shed. The one who never mentioned that Isaac (or anyone else for that matter) was once part of the gardening club. The one who only showed the shed to the student council on a rainy day. The one who spends all of her time with sheep.

The serval rested her head on the notebook, suddenly as heavy as lead. Maybe she was jumping the gun. Priya was a carnivore yes, but also frail and breathing impaired. It was hard to imagine even she could overpower a panicking ram. And according to Peter, Priya should have no desire to eat meat due to her hybridity. Hafsa didn't want to believe it. She couldn't believe it. Such a cute tiger couldn't have done it. That would be…playing into a stereotype.

Hafsa exhales air out of her nostrils as a weak imitation of laughter. Was that really her biggest objection to this situation?

She wondered what her ex-Watson would have to say on the subject. If she told him everything now, how would he react? Probably something involving every swear word in the English language. She thanked her lucky stars that he was no longer involved in this. He can spend his school days butting heads with the other rams, safe and ignorant. A sheep like him shouldn't get involved in carnivore affairs.

Hafsa concluded that study session with only an inkling and a heavy ball of anxiety in her gut. There was nothing she could do for now, no fingers she could point.

She was given a massive lead the next week.

Desmond fidgets with his hoodie's zipper. Standing around a black market in the late afternoon makes him feel like scum, even if he's a herbivore. He wishes he could be spending these days off doing something less… illegal.

"Hey, Desmond." A quiet voice calls for him. Right on time, Priya shuffles towards him. Despite knowing better, a chill still runs down his spine when seeing a large carnivore run his way. But Priya looks different from her usual self. Even if her face is partially concealed by her nasal cannula and hoodie (it seems she took Desmond's advice on wearing discrete clothing), her fur is no longer the pearly white hue he's accustomed to; instead it's a bright orange that most other tigers have.

"Not bad right?" She smiles, holding out her similarly-colored tail with her gloved hands. "This was my idea on how to not attract so much attention. Now I'm just a regular tiger!"

"Wow," The ram inspects the tail with an amused expression. "Is that fur paint?"

"Yeah! It should last all day."

"Good thinking. Now I feel stupid for not even covering up my horns." Desmond runs his fingers down his upper horns that jut out of the openings of his hood. At least his lower pair were safely nestled inside the fabric, though the tips still poke out.

"Hm… maybe two top hats?" Priya suggests in a tone Desmond can't tell is joking or sincere.

"Let's just get this done quickly."

The pair make their way to the gated entrance of the market. Desmond freezes for a few seconds, trying to get used to the smell of cooked flesh without vomiting. It seems it will never be a scent he can desensitize his nose to.

"Are you okay?" The tigress places a gentle hand on his back.

"It's fine." He groans. "Are you not bothered?"

"Ah, well…" The feline looks away with a sheepish grin. "My sense of smell isn't very good."

It seems Peter was right about her being a hybrid, at least. Any red-blooded carnivore would be drooling by now.

"Okay…" Desmond takes a final deep breath and musters up a confidence disposition. "Just follow my lead."

He storms into the murk, followed by a surprised tiger who makes sure to keep close to his heels. For a small ram like himself, weaving around the bulky crowd of meat-eaters is much easier than his lanky companion, so he slows himself down to match her pace.

"You look like you know where you're going…" Priya notes.

"I know someone here who maybe knows something."

"I thought this was your first time here."

Desmond sighs. "It's a long story. Don't worry about it for now."

The girl obeys and doesn't pry any further into the matter. Soon enough, the crowd begins to thin out as the shops get smaller, grimier, and sleazier. Wheedling sharp-toothed animals beckon the two to enter butcheries, bars, delis and strip clubs. All they could do is keep their heads down and power walk on. It was around this area that…

He spots a familiar shack. The pot-bellied bearded vulture is perched on the porch of her dingy slaughterhouse, absentmindedly sharpening a knife.

The ram steels himself before confidently marching up to her. "Hey. Remember me?"

Her bloodshot eyes only briefly scan the hooded animal in suspicion, but upon seeing four horns and tufts of wool peaking out of his clothing, her beak curls into a twisted but wide grin. "Kiddo! What an unexpected pleasure!"

She jumps off the porch and smothers the ram in a very tight, very smelly hug. He struggles to maintain consciousness as he suffocates against her blood-scented apron. After shaking the bird off of him, he backs up a few paces.

"Didn't anyone teach you about personal space?!" He bleats indignantly.

"Nope!" The vulture chuckles. "So, what brings you back here? Looking to make a quick buck and lose a quick kidney?"

"Cute. But no." He deadpans.

The bird peeks over his horns, noticing a loitering big cat some feet away. "Who's the tiger?" She asks.

"Security."

The vulture whistles. "Well, aren't you important?"

"We're here to investigate some things. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?"

"Sure. The shop's not open yet so just come on in and I'll see what I can do. Bring your pet." She points to Priya, who flinches at the motion.

Desmond shoots the bird a dirty look but beckons the tigress over.

"Is she who you were talking about?" She whispers.

"Yeah. Don't worry, she looks a lot more intense than she really is."

Priya nods, and follows him inside the hut. The doorless entrance leads to a singular room, if it can even be called that. Half of it is occupied by a grimy glass display of several labelled cuts of meat for sale. Priya and Desmond can barely fit in the remaining space as the vulture hops around to the opposite side of the display. The two teens blanche at the bright red flesh shamelessly exhibited behind the glass. The shopkeep notices their discomfort, and grabs a worn grey tablecloth to shroud the merchandise.

"Hey Stripes, if you wanna buy a nice snack, I'll give you a discount since you're friends with Kiddo over here." The vulture offers as she spreads the cloth over the length of the counter.

"No, thanks." Priya whimpers as Desmond begins to see a different kind of red.

"So, if you're not here for groceries, what's up?" The vulture leans against the top, ready for the sheep's "investigation".

"I wanted to know if about the meat cartel trends…" Desmond begins. "Specifically if people are buying carnie meat."

The vulture's hellish eyes widen. "Why do you wanna know that?"

"Something's been going on in our school. I wanna know what's going on before something else happens."

The butcher cackles. "You really are a good noodle! I guess I get the picture." She straightens up her back, causing a loud chain of popping sounds from her spine. "Oof. Well, let's see. You probably heard by now that sheep is no longer trending."

"Right."

"It was as soon as fall started. That was mostly because the Kin of Luca suddenly stopped buying. It was shit for business. Like I told you last time, they were the ones cranking up the demand for it." The vulture grumbles.

Desmond raises a brow. "So they just… stopped coming one day?"

"Basically, yeah. I asked one of them about it once. They said something about how they're all stocked up. Turns out they've been saving up for like, a party or something, I didn't really understand what he was talking about."

"A party? Do you mean, like a ritual or something?"

The butcher considers this. "That sounds about right. I mean, they are really cult-y. The fact that he was being so vague about it is pretty suspicious too."

"God, and you still sold to them?!" Desmond lambasts her.

"Hey, I don't care what they do with the meat, I'm just the seller. It's all illegal anyways." Chuckling to herself, the vulture goes for a packet of cigs in her apron pocket and swiftly prepare a smoke.

Priya timidly tugs on Desmond's sleeve. "Does this have anything to do with Jasmine?"

"Right," Desmond goes back into the discussion at hand. "So, there were no spikes of carnie meat purchases?"

"Carnie meat?" The vulture exclaims between cigarette puffs. "Where did you get that idea from? And besides, I don't sell carnie meat, so maybe you should ask those vendors. I don't recommend it, though, those guys are bad news for good noodles like you."

Both tiger and sheep gulp at this. For a scummy bird like her to warn them against them… they must truly be dangerous. There's not a single rational reason why to pursue that.

"I-I'll go talk to one of them."

The words escaped Desmond's mouth without him realizing it. Both females stare at him in astonishment, an expression he dumbly returns.

"You really shouldn't." The vulture insists, no longer smiling. "Other people in this market aren't as friendly as Jasha and me."

"As long as we go in as customers, it should be fine…" The sheep insists back, his tone lacking any semblance of confidence. "I need to make sure I can rule this out completely."

The butcher's crimson eyes stare at him. Finally, she lets out a sigh along with a cloud of smoke. "It's your funeral. I only know a handful of those guys, but…" She slowly takes out a scrap of paper from a corner and with a pen, begins to scribble something on it. The two teenagers watch in silence.

"I drew a map on how to get to his place." She hands the ram the crumpled scrap, pointing at the crudely drawn indications of buildings. "It's kind of a walk so I can't take you there myself. Just try to get in and out as fast as you can. And… don't bring the tiger."

Priya gulps. "H-he can't go by himself."

To this, the vulture cracks another wicked grin.

"Kids these days are so gutsy. I like it."

After a panicked trudge along the smoke-veiled streets of the market, Desmond and Priya begin to approach a darker, somehow even shiftier area. Though the map was not delicately made, it got the job done and escorted them to the x labelled "Slinky's". An odd name, but crooked nicknames are to be expected in crooked businesses.

"Slinky's" was a windowless, drab building, one that could easily be confused for something like a strip club were it not for the lack of gaudy neon lights or seductive promises. In an industry that relies heavily on visual and olfactory temptation, the total lack of advertising seems counterintuitive. This can only prove that the goods they are selling are not supposed to pander to the common market-folk.

With Priya timidly cowering behind him (though her enormous frame is hardly concealed by his), Desmond approaches the iron-doored entrance. The door is absent of any signs or welcoming, its cold steel only interrupted by what appears to be a sliding peephole. A singular light illuminates the doorstep, revealing a buzzer. He presses the button, hearing the harsh grating of the buzz through the other side, and awaits inevitability.

Quickly, far too quickly for his tastes, the peephole slides open, revealing a harsh reptilian eye. Both students flinch at the harsh gaze, too scared to say a word. After a few seconds or perhaps decades, the slider slams shut. The pair nervously look at each other, debating if they should leave now. But a series of clicks and clangs of locks tell them that they are about to be let in.

The door creaks open, revealing the owner of the eye to be a massive boa constrictor. Perched on a hook that seems to be especially designed for supporting his labyrinthian body, his dull scales are frequently interrupted by gashes and scars both old and new, and his tongue lashes out violently in their direction.

"This way." The boa croaks, and without another word, slithers back into the darkness of the building.

Lord help us.

Desmond and Priya's feeble steps are drowned out by the flailing host as they make their way though the narrow hallway, eventually opening up to a large, dimly lit empty room. What greets them is a literal serpent's den; snakes ranging from cobras to pythons to vipers glissade around the walls, all wanting a closer look at the visitors. It's a sight that makes any animal's blood turn cold. The pair's ears are bombarded by harsh sibilant hisses and the sound of scales rubbing together.

"New faces."

The room turns deadly silent in an instance. It's an impossibly still silence, one far worse than the rattling of snakes. A small frame walks into view directly under the faint lightbulb. A mongoose, smartly dressed and only half Desmond's height, extends his arms out.

"New faces." He repeats in an amiable tone. "And so young. I assume the others recommended me."

"I-I…" Desmond barely manages to squeak out a sound from his suddenly parched throat.

"Manners." The mongoose interrupts as if scolding himself. "I'm Slinky. And you… you're with the Kin, no?"

The Kin? The ram thinks back to the vulture's words. They're a group of all sheep. It should be no surprise that he was mistaken for one of them, given the circumstance. But that can only mean… the Kin has been here before.

"Y-yeah." Desmond mutters, causing Priya's eyes to widen. He's not quite sure what compelled this sudden lie; probably fear of what would happen if they didn't pass off as customers.

"Nice. Very nice." Slinky nods, approaching the two. "You know, that face always tickles me. Nobody ever expects a mongoose."

"It's… a surprise."

"Smaller carnivores are the most dangerous. Killing is more rewarding for us." The small mammal's cold words come out as sweet as honey, as if he were teaching them how to tie a shoe. "But herbivores… they're the most dangerous of all. You'd know something about that."

A bead of sweat drips down the ram's nose. "Not really."

"Of course not. You're doing it for… spiritual reasons. Well, I think it's all about the soul one way or another. But enough chitchat." He snaps his fingers and the tangle of snakes begin to squirm once more.

Now that their eyes have adjusted to the darkness, the teens realize the walls are actually a floor-to-ceiling collection of drawers. The drawers range in size, from as small as the cover of a book to as large as a refrigerator. The snakes weave in, out and around the handles with ease, occasionally prying a drawer open by wrapping their bodies around them and flexing. After about a dozen or so drawers have been opened, the large boa from the entrance approaches them with a step ladder, handing it to them with the tip of his tail. Desmond reluctantly accepts it before Slinky redirects their attention to the nearest open drawer.

The ram follows him but the tigress makes no moves; not that Desmond can blame her. With each footstep, he feels his body growing colder, and not just because of the terror coursing through his body. It is only when he and the mongoose peer down into an open drawer that he fully understands.

A dead fox lies in the padded steel cavity, wispy mists of chill encircling it.

"Your associates mentioned a preference for similar body types to their own. I assume you'd also like that?" The mongoose asks calmly as he gestures to the corpse.

Words fail Desmond. All he can do is stare at the fox who lifelessly stares back. He feels like he could vomit or pass out at any moment. His breaths come out as ragged chokes. Noticing the look of inquisition of his host, he desperately tries to recompose himself.

"Y-yeah… around my size would be good…" He pants.

"I doubt you could eat more than this size, anyways. Sheep may have four stomachs but none of them are very big." Slinky muses. "The feast is at the end of next month, was it not? Ideally, you'd want to prepare him closer to the day of."

Size? Eat? Feast?

These words bounced around the ram's head. Too much is happening. He can barely think. Investigation or not, he needs to leave this place. Now.

"I… I-I need to think more about this. I-I'll come back another day." Muttering an excuse, he goes to Priya and motions to leave. His movements are swiftly halted as the surrounding serpents worm towards the exit and block it off, hissing loudly.

"It seems your associates failed to inform you," Slinky's voice rings behind them. "This is not an establishment for window shoppers. Either you buy something, or we sell you."

Desmond whips his head around helplessly, meeting cold slits of eyes everywhere he looks. "I… I don't have any money. I can't pay you!"

Slinky chuckles. "Surely you can. The albino tigress will afford you anything in my establishment."

"How did you—?"

"I think I've been in this business long enough to tell when an albino is wearing paint. Don't insult me, please." Frowning, he snaps his fingers once more, triggering a horde of snakes to leap onto the two. They wind around their limbs and torso, rendering them completely immobile within a matter of seconds. Desmond is tackled to the floor by the growing reptilian knot, but Priya is kept standing, her hood ripped off to reveal her face.

"Don't touch her!" The sheep bleats, but his open mouth is soon gagged by the body of a serpent.

"Just inspecting the payment…" Slinky grabs the discarded step ladder and props it in front of the bound carnivore. Desmond can only see the back of her head, where the orange paint peters out to reveal her pure white fur, but he can see the mongoose's attentive expression as he grabs her face for a closer look.

Desmond can barely hear anything over the shifting slithering mass engulfing him and his own muffled yells. The mongoose seems to be talking to Priya as he inspects her. What kind of face could she be making now? A wave of guilt washes over him, far more powerful than his assailants.

Suddenly, the smile on Slinky's face vanishes. He snaps his fingers once more, and the serpents immediately retreat from Desmond and Priya, freeing them at last. Startled and confused, Desmond jumps to his feet, grabs the tigresses' arm and books it out of there without a second thought. His herbivorous instincts far outweigh his curiosity. He basically kicks the front door down and, still dragging Priya, wordlessly gallops through the dingy neon-lit alleys of the market until they finally reach the iron gates of the entrance.

He doubles over, finally breathing again. "Th-that… w-was so… m-messed up…"

Priya sinks down beside him, even more breathless. She only offers a shaky nod of agreement, still struggling to steady her breaths.

"Oh god, I'm sorry I made you run like that." Desmond shoots up and goes to pat her back. "I mean, I'm sorry all of that happened. Really."

"I-It's…. It's f-fine…" She wheezes, clasping her hands over her nasal cannula.

"Don't talk. Just focus on breathing."

Her breathing only grows more ragged, sending Desmond into his hundredth panic attack of the day. Does he need to call an ambulance? He turns his head to see her face, and is met by large wet tears pooling in her bright blue eyes.

"I-I'm sorry…" She hiccups. "I'm s-so sorry…"

Desmond fumbles. His arms flap beside him as he deliberates between comforting her and backing off. "No, no! Don't apologize, you have nothing to be sorry for! It's all me, I'm the one who should be apologizing! I made you go through such a scary thing!"

His words echo through his own soul, and suddenly, the weight of his hugely inappropriate favor fully sinks in. He traumatized this poor kid, his poor albino disabled female underclassman, by forcing her to sneak around and illegal market so she can protect him. And nearly getting her sold to a meat dealer in the process.

Oh God.

He wearily sinks back down to the floor, and the two teens sit in darkness and silence (save for Priya's gasping and sobbing) as confused carnivores walk past. After what seems like a millennia, both of them are calm enough to look at each other and decide to leave this cursed place once and for all. The herbie and carnie traipse back into more populated streets, back into the familiar world.

"So… what are you gonna do now?" Desmond asks.

"I'll ask my family for a ride home. I'm tired."

"Sure. I'll wait with you until they get here."

They decide to wait near a brightly lit cafe. Something about the warm light seeping out through the windows that lit up the outside night, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the lighthearted chatter of animals coming in an out provides a comfort to them, like a promise that not all is lost. They observe the passing world around them, the sounds of cars, of laughter, of footsteps, of fights. This is the world Desmond has always known. How can it exist so close to shop of corpses?

The world of herbivores and carnivores are really light years apart. It's a lonely thought.

"I… really am sorry." Desmond repeats once more as he blankly stares at a cluster of moths dancing around a streetlight. "For today. For everything."

"You don't have to apologize. I signed up for this on my own accord."

"That still doesn't make it okay. I'm older, I should've known better." He sighs. "I genuinely don't know how to make it up to you."

Priya smiles. "A VIP seat to all future ram fighting matches would be nice."

The Jacob sheep snorts, unable to contain his amusement at such a childish request. A tiger's heart is absurdly courageous after all.

"Deal."

Neither of them speak for a while.

"By the way," Desmond eventually breaks the silence. "Why did that creep let us go? You said something to him, right?"

"Right…" Priya grows sheepish and fiddles with her nasal cannula tube. "I showed him my fangs. I guess he's more cowardly than he lets on."

"If a tiger showed her fangs to me, I'd back off too. No offense."

Suddenly, Priya's family car pulls around the corner, flashing its lights to call their attention.

"I gotta go now. I guess… we'll see each other at school." Priya gives a curt bow as she walks off.

"Yeah. Take care."

The tigress waves one final goodbye to her companion and enters the back seat of the sleek black automobile. Closing the door shut, she can't help but take a deep sigh of exhaustion. Today truly took a toll on her stamina.

"Are you all right, Lady Priya?" Her chauffeur, a stout Texel sheep turns his head at the sound of her sigh.

"It's nothing." Priya answers, her voice barely above a whisper. She rests her head against the tinted glass of the car window and passively watches the scenery go by. "I've switched targets for the First Feast."

"Oh? So suddenly? You had your heart set on that first target for so long."

"It's killing two birds with one stone. We don't have much time left."

The ram shrugs. "Whatever you think is best will be done, Lady Priya. And for the Second Feast?"

"Unchanged. It actually works out better now."

"Very well."

Priya's pallid irises reflect the flashing lights of the outside world.

She truly is sorry.

AN: Thanks for reading! So... this chapter has been sitting in my notes, 80% completed, while I neglected it for a month. Whoops. Double whoops for the hiatus right after a cliffhanger. You should know better by now than to trust AO3 writers with consistent upload schedules. Inertia is real.

In any case, things should be starting to become a little clearer now. If not, that's fine too, all be be revealed... eventually.

Take it easy and stay safe.