To Carrots:

Surprise! I wonder how often you check on that letter you wrote to see if it was still there. How many times did you rewrite it? Maybe you were hoping to just get rid of it completely. Well guess what? It's too late! It's MINE now! And if you're reading this, it means that you DID check and found a different letter in its place. You fussy little bunny.

I guess I can tell you WHEN I found it. It was when you came down with the Rabbit Flu. That tiny little completely terrifying epidemic that briefly but swiftly swept through Zootopia. I'm pretty sure it was that one bunny girl we pulled over for speeding that got you sick. The brown and white one. She sneezed right on you. Think I should go arrest her for assault with a biological weapon?

I don't guess you remember much of those days, huh? Chief Buff basically throwing you out of the ZPD so you'd stay home. Constantly yelling at me to stop fussing over you. I dunno how you managed so much strength to shout at me when you could barely keep your eyes open. You looked miserable, you know? Fur damp, trembling, those pained groans.

It was one time when you were asleep that I started looking around. I don't know what I was looking for. Something to try to help make you feel better, I suppose. While I was poking around, I found your letter. It was a clever hiding place, I'll give you that. But you know who you're dealing with; you may be a foxy bunny, but you can't out-fox a fox. I'll leave it to your imagination how I reacted to reading it; I'm certainly not going to tell you!

That's the thing about me, Fluff, something you should know by now. It basically takes Destiny's Blade held up to my throat to get me to talk (or even write!) about my feelings. Since I'm not going to, and you're a smart bunny, you also know that I'm writing this after you got better. I can't believe my fierce little hippity-hopper even kicked a nasty virus' tail like that. Is there anything you can't do?

Each time we have a brush with Destiny, though, I feel like she's holding that blade precariously closer and closer to us. First, a mere graze of the fur. But, when you were at the zenith of that sickness I felt like she was hovering over you, holding it right up against your skin. I felt like I could practically see the indentation of her blade on your neck with each labored swallow you made; each pained breath.

So yeah, I said a lot of things to you when you were sick. Things I'm pretty sure you don't remember or weren't conscious for, and things I'm probably not going to repeat. But, writing this, you know... I'm starting to realize something.

We don't have forever.

The rush of relief I felt when you were back on our chair in the ZPD bullpen can't be described in mere words, so I won't write them. I will tell you that I share that sappy little sentiment of yours from your goopy little letter: I don't want what we have to change.

But it's going to have to, sometime.

I don't know if I'm ready to talk about it, write about it, or in any other way express it. Maybe I could use my favorite way to communicate to you: hand signals! Though it worries me that you're actually starting to UNDERSTAND them. Our mental wavelengths are inching closer and closer to being identical.

So you know what? I'm not going to. That's right! Your stubborn, cowardly little fox friend is going to make YOU pull the trigger.

What I'm saying is... if you want to talk to me about... things... just come up to me and say: "Destiny's Blade". I'll know it's time we had a serious discussion. This is only redeemable once, Carrots, so make it count!

By the way, don't bother asking me what I've done with your letter. It's in a safe place. I'm not going to let you tear it up.

From your absolute favorite fox,
Nick Wilde