Desmond could hardly swallow his food. Not with the tremendous weight of intertrophic tension crushing his throat.

If one were to take a picture of the mess hall, perhaps one wouldn't even be able to tell. Students continue bantering and chewing, content to take a breath of fresh air and fill their stomachs in between classes.

But chatter feels muffled. And a pervasive miasma plagues the air. The only thing a photo could prove is the undeniable split of herbies on one side and carnies on the other. The academy didn't ordain this. The students chose this rift out of their own volition. The fact that everyone in the room knows this is what makes the atmosphere so incredibly hostile.

Lured by his hunger and trapped by his friends, Desmond simmers miserably in stifling anxiety, not at all wanting to be there. The rams' banter feel distant, like TV static, and he can't bring himself to focus or care about whatever trivialities they discuss. Instead, his eyes wander to the opposite side of the cafeteria, hoping to glimpse a bit of spotted fur. Unfortunately, the student council president is too concealed within the crowd. Perhaps she's not even there at all. Who knows what hoops she's having to jump through now?

The ram shakes his head. It's no use thinking about her now. He has a girlfriend after all, one who has expressed a total lack of emotional investment in the whole ordeal. "You're a herbie so it will be fine." Is all she manages to say when he called her with an update on the disastrous election.

While it's true he would be safe from expulsion regardless, he feels anything but fine. Gazing out into the distant sea of sharp fangs, he can't help but feel… bad for the carnies. Desmond may not know every single one, but they're students of Noah's Arc all the same. Classmates. Animals that want a good high school experience like everyone else. A sudden pang of guilt twists his stomach. Out of all the carnivores in the school he's only every gotten along with Hafsa, and more recently Toma. Maybe Solomon in a deeply twisted sense. But what of the others?

His lunch is only half finished, even less if you count his typical plus-sized dessert. With a final huff, he steels his resolve. He suddenly gets up and grabs the edges of his tray.

"Huh?" Marcel grunts. "Where you going?"

"I'm gonna sit with the carnies."

The rest of the herd falls silent upon hearing this.

"A-all of a sudden? Do you have a death wish?" Jordie bleats once the shock wears off.

"You can join me or not. I'm doing it either way." The Jacob sheep dismisses, already trodding off.

"H-hey!" Elmer grabs him by the sleeve. "What's gotten into you all of a sudden? Those guys…"

The yak gestures to the crowd of meat eaters. "They're bad news. Just look at how they glare at us."

The other rams mutter in agreement.

"They only glare at us because the other herbies want them gone."

Elmer's temper flares. "We want them gone because they kill animals like us."

"If that was true, we'd all be dead by now."

"Dead like Peter?"

Marcel 's voice, uncharacteristically harsh, snaps Desmond into silence.

"Peter would still be alive if carnies were gone. He'd still be here, falling asleep in class, goofing around, stealing my horn wax. But he's not here, is he? Because Peter was a fucking idiot who got too chummy with a tiger. And you're a fucking idiot, too." The springbok's voice trembled, same as the tears welling in his incensed eyes.

Elmer places a hand on his small friend's shoulder, then returns his focus on Desmond. "Just sit back down, okay?"

Desmond lowers his tray, now hovering centimeters over the table's sticky surface. But with a sharp breath, he retreats once more, and without a word, turns his back on the ram fighting club to approach the carnivorous half of the room.

Within the few steps it takes him to reach it, he attempts to calm himself, but he certainly doesn't feel relaxed once he's staring down a line of carnivores mid-bite. The table he stops in front of is mostly occupied by carnies of the medium-sized variety: foxes, dogs, ocelots, birds of prey. Upon seeing the fleeced intruder, their eyes instantly narrow.

"Uh… Hey." The ram greets awkwardly. He forgot that making new friends requires… socializing. Not his strongest suit.

"What do you want?" An osprey immidiately demands.

"I just… uh." Desmond fumbled. "Wanted to sit with you guys. If that's okay."

You better stick to your little herd." A husky sneers. "Why don't you jump over a fence and piss off?"

"You're the ex-vice president, aren't you?" A chameleon interjects, pointing an accusatory clawed finger at him. "What, did the student council rope you into this?"

"Go be a narc somewhere else, fuzzy." The largest carnie of the bunch, a disheveled maned wolf, barks mockingly. "Or do we gotta bite your ankles off for you to get the hint?"

The pack of carnivores cackle, sparking a rage within him that tempted him to commit things that would get him sent to juvie right alongside Toma.

"I'm not a narc. Nobody sent me."

"Suuure…" The wolf drawls, rolling his eyes. "Just get lost already. Before you regret it."

He flashes a pointy grin, howling alongside his friends.

"Make me."

The canine stops mid-cackle. "What?"

"Make. Me."

The ram's glower could belong to a grizzly bear. The maned wolf couldn't help but swallow a hard lump of surprise.

"Are… are you for real?"

Desmond tosses his tray on the table with a clatter. "You bet your ass I'm for real. What, do you wanna fight it out? I'll win."

The wolf's black-tipped mane flares up at these taunts, and in a flash, he's on his feet to give the ram a brusque shove.

"Who the hell do you think you are, fuzzy?!"

The entire cafeteria winces. Every conversation screeches to a halt as the piebald sheep and maned wolf take center stage.

"I'm your new best friend, asshole!" Desmond winds up and with a clenched fist, punches the carnie clean in the gut. The red canine crumples upon impact, folding around the herbie's arm like a sheet of paper. The 'oomph' reverberates throughout the mess hall, and time itself seems to stop.

Every theoretical second that passes by feels like stepping on glass. At last, the wolf slowly relaxes his muscles, sliding back from Desmond's fist and doubling over himself. The ram says nothing, only slowly ducking his still-flexed arm back to his torso's flank.

Just before he can let go of the breath he'd been holding for minutes, his opponent buries his leg into his stomach with a devastating kick. The surrounding audience gasps. He chokes out a gag before falling to his knees.

The fight is on.

As soon as he's able to expand his lungs again, Desmond lunges for the wolf's slender legs. Using his horns to cage his opponent's movement, he successfully topples him down.

"Fuck 'em up, cap!" He can hear Derek shout from behind.

He tries to clamber atop him and pin him to the floor, but the canine overpowers his grip and yanks him off of him by the horn. The carnie jumps to his feet and raises a leg over the sheep, preparing to stomp him down with another kick, but the ram dodges just in time so that the wolf only impacts with the floor, additionally disrupting his balance. Bingo. That's all it takes for Desmond to use the momentum to land a headbutt right in his shoulder blades and send the beast crashing down again.

The fight blazes on, amassing a rather encouraging crowd around it. But someone parts the swathe of writing spectators straight down the middle like the Red Sea. Facing the two brawling animals, she shouts in a ringing voice:

"ENOUGH!"

The word is enough to bring Desmond to a screeching stop, though he still clutches a tuft of the maned wolf's fur in his hand and teeth. His stillness causes the carnie himself to stop knawing on his arm out of curiosity, before his eye catches what had caused the pause.

Hafsa towers over the bumbling males with volcanic eyes.

"What…" She hisses. "Do you two… think… you're doing?"

She interrupts before either of them can get a single syllable out.

"Principal's office. Now."

The serval whips around and addresses the remaining animals. "Fight's over! Go back to your food!"

Hafsa doesn't blink, her gaze fixated on Desmond slumped over on the uncomfortable bench outside of the principal's office. He rests his forearms on his thighs, lowering his head to avoid the heat of her burning glare. She stands still, sentinel in front of Principal House's office, saving for the manic thrashing of her tail behind her. Beyond the sealed door, the maned wolf is being interrogated by the goose. It will soon be Desmond's turn.

That doesn't stop the student council president from conducting an interrogation of her own.

"Really, Desmond, what possessed you to get into a cafeteria fight with a carnie of all people?" She grumbles. "You leave the student council and become a delinquent?"

"It's a long story." He replies.

She scoffs. "I'm sure. "I expected better from you."

The sheep pouts. "I totally won."

"Not about that!" She yelps. "The last thing this school needs is a herbie and a carnie beating the snot out of each other in broad daylight!"

Desmond scratches at his neck sheepishly. "It's not… listen, I don't know how to explain it, but that's just how males get along. It wasn't like… hostile."

"Your nose is bleeding and it's not hostile?"

"It's a male thing."

"For God's sake…" The serval rubs her temples. "If that's the best excuse you can come up with, House is going to batter and fry you."

"Am I making your mouth water?" He smirks.

"In a way, because you make me want to puke." She retorts. Ironically enough, the smell of his blood is almost enough to drive her to pin him down and lick his nose clean. Cursed post-withdrawal cravings.

The conversation skips a beat; Desmond taps his foot to fill the silence.

"So…" The ram starts. "How are things?"

Hafsa raises a brow. "Fan-fucking-tastic."

"Thought so." He chuckles. "Everything's such a mess nowadays. I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

"None of this would've happened if I hadn't left the student council."

The female's expression softens. "This isn't your fault. I mean, this—" She points to the floor, indicating their situation. "Is. But not… this." She waves her hands in the air, as if gesturing towards the world itself. "If anything, it's my fault."

The sheep fakes astonishment. "I never thought I'd live to see you admit fault."

"Hell truly is freezing over."

They exchange quiet, nostalgic laughter. It then dawns on both of them, this is the first time they've spoken since Desmond's departure from the student council. This should be more awkward than it is.

"So…" Hafsa coughs. "How have you been? Besides punching wolves?"

"Ah well… just doing my own thing. It's… been refreshing, I guess." He pauses for a few seconds, unsure if he should say what he's thinking. "I'm… seeing someone now."

Hafsa's eyes widen. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"That's… great. Really great! Is she in our year?"

"She's uh… a college student. You know her."

"College student…?" The feline struggles to remember any mutual graduated acquaintances.

"I'm… seeing Eloise."

"…The rabbit?"

"Hare. But yeah. Her."

"…Her?"

"Her."

"That's great! I'm so happy for you two."

"Thanks."

"She's a very… interesting person."

"That's an understatement."

"…"

"…How's things with Solomon?"

"Great. It's going really well."

"That's good."

"Yep."

The door behind Hafsa opens, scaring a small shriek out of her, which she quickly smacks back in her mouth with her hands. The maned wolf, one eye semi-swollen shut, stares at her quizzically.

"Oh, excuse me." The feline gives way to the canine.

He trudges past her, stopping in front of Desmond, and points to the now open door.

"Your turn."

"…'Kay."

Hafsa watches as the two males switch places, Desmond closing the door behind him and the wolf plopping down on the bench. She hesitates but feels like she should say something.

"Um… I never got your name."

"Maned Wolf Monteiro."

"And who started the fight?"

Monteiro rolls his eyes. "I explained everything to the principal. Besides, you wouldn't get it. It's a male thing."

"Again with the male thing!" Hafsa screeches. "There's no way that's true!"

"Yeah, well…" The canid leans back against his wall, crossing his long legs. "I thought all herbies were just a bunch of pansies, but that guy's got guts."

"I'm not sure that's a good thing in this case."

He shrugs. "I'm not mad at him."

The female is too stunned to speak. Monteiro can't help but grin at her befuddlement. However, his sly expression is gradually washed away by more somber thoughts.

"Say, Pres…" He starts. "Everyone's saying they're gonna kick out all the carnies. Izzat… true?"

A complicated emotion flashes across Hafsa's face, but it only lasts a moment. "Of course not. We're not going anywhere, as long as I have a say."

"M'kay. Just wanted to know." He shuts his eyes and leans further back. Seems he's done with the conversation.

The two withdraw back into their own thoughts, and there they remain until the click of the door signals the arrival of Desmond and Principal House.

"Hello again, president," The waterfowl greets. "After speaking with both Desmond and Monteiro, it seems their stories check out. Normally, a fight like this would result in instant suspension."

The very word causes the two males to flinch.

"But," House continues, now addressing the troublemakers. "Since it appears both of you have sorted out your differences and have no intention of repeating your offense, I will generously allow you to walk, though you will have to go to five detentions. And of course, should another quarrel ensue in the future… I will show no such leniency, regardless of intention. Is that understood?"

They both shake their heads vigorously.

"Good. You're free to go."

"Awright. C'mon, Fuzzy, let's go." With a relieved sigh, Monteiro hooks his elbow around Desmond's neck and begins to walk off.

"You got it, Beanpole."

Maned wolf and sheep amble down the hall, discussing their brawl in a very lively manner until their ringing voices descend down the Emzara stairs and fade away entirely.

Hafsa looks down at her principal. "… Is it really a male thing?"

The goose readjusts his glasses. "You'd be surprised."

AN: Thanks for reading. I know maned wolves aren't technically wolves but spelling out the whole name is a mouthful. They are quite amazing animals, though. They're the only omnivorous canine! Of course, Monteiro is still socially classified as a carnie, like bears. When I saw the opportunity to make an Arrested Development reference, I took it. I'm weak.

Take it easy and stay safe.