As Hafsa looks around the empty grey waiting room, she can't help but think to herself…

Why am I here?

It's a question she's asked herself countless times during the lengthy trip to this very waiting room. Two buses, a ferry, and another bus (she couldn't ask Solomon to drive her for this), totaling three hours of travel. The thought of three more hours on the way back weighs on her mind.

And yet, here she is. But why?

She takes a seat on a chair, bolted on the wall and lined with a scratchy mud-colored fabric, and absently grabs a magazine on the table next to her. Several years old; the celebrity couple posing on the front page had long since broken up. The serval sets it back down, not really in the mood for reading anyways. Instead, she resigns herself to listening to the tick-tocking of the clock above her and trying to keep her mind as empty as possible.

A uniform-clad polar bear suddenly opens the heavy steel door in front of her.

"Miss Serval Hafsa?"

"Y-yes.

"She's ready to see you."

Hafsa jumps up from her seat and follows the bear past the steel door and through a long, fluorescent-lit hallway.

"She's been restrained but there is a panic button under the table if you feel unsafe. The room will also be monitored so if she tries anything, the guards will detain her." The bear explains while guiding the young feline. "You can speak freely but avoid touching her. You are also not allowed to leave the visitation room while meeting her. Is that understood?"

"Yessir."

They turn a corner, finding the end of the hallway lined with three doors on either side. The bear approaches towards the second door on the right, but holds his hand out to keep Hafsa at a distance. With his free hand, he slides the peephole open, exposing a small rectangular view into the room. After a few seconds of observation, he unlocks the door with a resounding snap.

"You have one hour."

With that, he gestures towards the door, allowing the serval to enter.

Surprisingly, there is no glass divider that Hafsa often saw in TV shows. In fact, it looks like a rather normal cafeteria: individual sets of tables complete with two seats some meters apart, brightly lit up by striped sunlight shining through the barred windows. The room is empty, save for one sitting figure patiently waiting for Hafsa. With almost translucent white fur and streaks now a rich chocolate from the rays of light, a tigress smiles at the serval, her delicate features now asymmetrical by the lack of her right ear.

Somewhat awkwardly, Hafsa makes the long walk to the tables, her heels clacking loudly against the linoleum floor, and takes the seat opposite to the tiger.

"It's been a while, Priya."

"This is not my idea of a date." Eloise looks down at the garden of shriveled up plants. Once upon a time, they would be brimming with color and bees like flowers tend to in late spring, but months of neglect following the disbanding of the gardening club reduced them to black moldy husks splattered on the soil.

"I thought you'd want a proper look around your alma mater." Desmond replies, stepping over a dusty watering can. "Your last visit was cut pretty short."

"Indeed." The hare's nose twitches at the thought of her previous encounter with Iris. "But this 'garden', if you can even call it, is hideous. Noah's Arc seems to have declined since last time."

"In more ways than just the groundskeeping." The ram glances at the barren plot of land that had once been the garden shed.

"Yes, you and your bleeding heart." Eloise rolls her eyes. "Didn't you resign in disgrace to avoid such political plights?"

"First of all, I did not resign in disgrace. Second of all, you know that's not why I left."

"Yes, but I suppose I like mentioning you resigning in disgrace too much."

The male scoffs, amused. He offers his hand to the hare who paused in front of a muddy puddle.

"Please." She brushes his hand aside and hops over the puddle with ease.

"Well, excuse me. Where should we go next?"

"I have an idea."

Desmond does too, and his idea is confirmed once inside the Emzara building. He dreaded this stop but there's simply no way around it. After a brisk knock, Eloise wastes no time and allows herself inside the student council office. Three felines and a pigeon stop halfway through a very heated discussion on something. When their eyes fall on the herbivorous couple, each has a different reaction.

Brian sports a gleeful open-beaked smile. Solomon, a pair of bemused eyes. Toma, a blank look of perplexity. And lastly Hafsa, white as a sheet.

"Ex-Pres!" The pigeon gallops towards the long-eared herbie, who dodges an incoming hug.

"Yes, good evening Brian." She greets cordially. "Excuse the sudden intrusion. Desmond was just giving me a tour of the academy."

Solomon steps towards her, a brow quirked up. "It's always a pleasure, Eloise, but why is Desmond showing you around?"

Eloise links her arms around Desmond's. "We're dating. Has he not told you?"

Nobody speaks for a solid minute.

This stunned silence is of course broken by the delighted squeals of Brian. "NO WAYYYY! Desmond, why didn't tell us, you minx?"

The ram has no chance to answer as the rock dove continues his fawning.

"Awwww, you guys look adorable together! Mr. and Mrs. Grump! What a match, I can't believe you didn't tell me! How did this happen? Who confessed to who? Did you guys kiss ye—"

"Ohkay, buddy. Thank you for the excitement." Desmond quickly hushes the twittering bird, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Well, that's the student council office. Off we go, sorry for the hassle—"

It's Solomon's turn to interrupt. "Why the rush? It's been too long, both of you. Sit down and we can have a nice chat. Brian, why don't you heat up the electric kettle?"

"Roger!" Brian speeds to his tea shelf, already loading the kettle with bottled water and prepping six cups.

"I don't see why not." Eloise shrugs with a smile a bit too smug for Desmond's liking.

The horned male screams internally. The secretary and his girlfriend seem to be enjoying this for some sick reason. Don't they know this goddamn office is the last place he wants to be in? Of course they do, that's why they're so pleased!

The odd group of animals gravitate to the lounge area as Brian dutifully prepares an afternoon snack: buttery biscuits and seaweed strips. Solomon and the still unspeaking Hafsa sit in the two wicker chairs while Toma squeezes himself into a corner of the sofa, trying to accommodate his towering frame to fit three more animals. Desmond sits on the other side of the couch, scooting to make room for Eloise, but she opts to sit on his lap instead, or more accurately, drape herself over him.

"Who is this?" She asks while pointing to the panther to her left, ignoring the sudden heat emanating from her boyfriend's face (and the similar crimson on Hafsa's).

"Th-that's Toma." Hafsa's finally breaks her silence. "He's in our year."

Toma waves shyly, unsure if he should speak, of who the hare is, or what is going on.

"Ah, the mother-eater." Eloise notes. Several jaws hit the floor. "Hm, he certainly looks the part. Desmond's informed me of the academy's rather abysmal circumstances."

As the student council president, Eloise's words sting Hafsa. And as a petty person, they also irritate her.

"We're in the process of rectifying it." She announces. "That's what we were discussing right before you came in."

Brian returns to the group, handing each animal their drink and finally settling between the couple and Toma on the couch. "We're deciding the best way of handling DAVID, who think they run the school now."

"The radical herbivores?" Eloise asks, impressing Desmond with the fact she actually seemed to pay attention to his rants.

"Yeah. Ever since they made a stink during the vice-presidential election, things between herbies and carnies have been really tense."

"I should hope so." The hare sniffs. "Two predators outed in less than a year, likely more in secret. It's cause for outrage."

"Except Toma here is not a predator." Solomon explains cooly. "He was wrongfully condemned. But convincing the other students of his innocence is not so easy."

"I certainly wouldn't believe it." She takes a sip of the tea. Desmond grunts in protest, but her unrepentant expression remains unchanged.

"Well noted." The caracal continues. "That's why we're thinking of ways to regain some credibility."

"I really do think I should just leave." Toma speaks up. "All I've done is mess things up here."

"Definitely not." Hafsa objects. "If you leave, they win. It'll just confirm your guilt."

"What does it matter if they think I'm guilty? I'll go back to juvie regardless. Even real jail now that I'm nineteen."

"Because you're not!" Hafsa cries.

Toma opens his mouth in protest, but no words come out.

"This is… this is all my fault." The serval continues in a strained voice. "I never apologized for it. I pushed you into this. I pushed everyone into this because I was an idiot. Now you're all in this mess because of me. So for you to go back now… then that'd be my fault too."

Toma clenches his jaw, something caught in his throat. "Hafsa…"

Solomon reaches for her hand. "It's not. And it won't be. I will figure something out."

"Figure something out?" Eloise repeats, crossing her legs. "The solution is quite obvious. What's there to figure out?"

Desmond squirms underneath her. "What do you mean?"

"I thought at least you would have some common sense, Desmond darling." She deadpans. "As far as this fellow's squeaky-clean 'lovable idiot' angle, drop it. Nobody will believe it now and it would only further anger the students."

"I was never going for 'idiot'…" Toma quietly protests.

"You've tried playing defensively and it has obviously not worked. Now you must go on the offensive."

Hafsa still doesn't understand her angle. "How so?"

"The herbies made a protest group? Make one of your own. Call out the injustices of carnivorous discrimination. Fight fire with fire. All this sneaking around and PR stunts just delay the inevitable."

"Polarizing the problem will only create more confusion." Brian objects. "This is a school, not a war zone."

"Those two words are synonymous." The hare points to her 'battle scar' on her face, causing the grey bird to flinch. "Where there are animals, there are battles. The time for whining and petty salesmanship is gone. Once DAVID recognizes you as a real threat and not something to be trampled on, maybe then they will humble themselves."

"And further reinforce the ideas that carnivores are aggressive and dangerous?" Solomon retorts. "Baring our fangs will get us nowhere."

"What other alternatives do you see, secretary?" Eloise sneers. "You who always comes up with the perfect solution, your lack of ingenuity now strikes me as damning."

The caracal has nothing to say to this. His ears flatten in shame.

"As I thought." Eloise's austere tone doesn't relent. "Your pussyfooting attitude on intertrophic issues was always your weakest point. You and Iris."

"U-uh…" Through incredible valor, Toma raises his voice, though still not daring to look at the ex-president in the eye. "L-listen, I don't wanna be the face of some carnie activist group or whatever. I'm tired of this mess."

"I do not care what you want." The female snaps. "I'm thinking on behalf of the academy and its student council's best interest. Were it truly up to me, I would be on DAVID's side and suggest a complete segregation of herbivores and carnivores, but then I suspect Desmond wouldn't let me hear the end of it. This is the next best thing."

The confidence in her voice is sharp and refreshing like wind on an open wound. It's something Hafsa wishes she could provide now.

"So, this group…" The serval prods. "Would it just be… the carnie equivalent of DAVID?"

Eloise shakes her head. "More than that. A simple carnie versus herbie narrative would indeed only polarize the issue to the point of redundancy, as Brian said. This is about intolerance versus acceptance. Something that frames you as the ones objectively in the right. Something both carnies and herbies could support. And for that, I'd say that it would need two representatives: one carnie and one herbie."

She glares at Toma. "You're obviously the carnie. What's more, you'll be honest with your story, if it is indeed the truth. Make people sympathize with you and how you've been discriminated. You'll be righteous, confident, hungry for justice, you won't allow others to second-guess you. You are determined to clear your name and stop the fascist profiling of animals based on their diet."

The panther gapes at her. "You uh… sound like you've though this through before."

"I would hardly be a worthy former student council president if I didn't give it a few minutes of thought. Or girlfriend for that matter." She strokes Desmond's chin teasingly, who yelps at the touch. "Like I said, I would be on DAVID's side. So I think of what it would take to convince me."

"That actually… sounds like it could work." Brian says tentatively. "It'd be a big step but I don't see another way out."

"I have one condition." Solomon says abruptly, his tone low. " The student council will have no association with this group. We will not publicly support either movement so as to regain our image of authority and neutrality. Hafsa in particular should sever all pretenses of friendship with Toma and others associated."

"That would be fine." Eloise agrees.

"What?!" Hafsa exclaims.

"It's the only way the student council will recover its reputation, since your decisions have so brutally butchered it." The hare explains coldly. That is enough to shut the serval up.

"We'd have to find a herbie representative then…" Brian tilts his head. "I'd offer, but since the student council can't support it…"

"Then I guess it's my turn." Desmond says.

"I suspected as much." Although his girlfriend doesn't look up from her teacup, her voice betrays a certain fondness.

"You'd really do that for me?" Toma asks him.

"I'd be lying if I said I'm not doing it for me too." The sheep attempts to brush off the panther's severity. "It would just be more boring around here without you meat-eaters."

Desmond's attempts at nonchalantness now of all times tickles Hafsa, but she keeps her game face on. "Then it's decided."

"This sounds like a serious operation. We need a name!" Brian chirps, eyes abuzz with resolve.

To everyone's surprise, Solomon is first to suggest. "Operation Goliath seems fitting."

"Operation Goliath it is!"

"Desmond, Toma…" Hafsa gets up from the wicker chair, brows furrowed. "I'm sorry. We'll do what we can from in here, but… the rest is up to you."

The panther nods. "Everything you've done until now… I get why you did it. I just wish… I didn't have this stupid collar on me now."

He laughs, bubbling peals of laughter, as hopeless as they were innocent. Only Hafsa laughs along.

"I wish I could make you promises like I made before… but for now, I'll just say that I wish you won't have it on by the end of the year."

This seems to have ended the matter for Eloise. She gets up from Desmond's lap, dragging him up by his tie with her, and leads them to the exit.

"This visit was somewhat nostalgic." She concludes curtly. "Farewell."

Hafsa can only process what just happened when the pair is already five steps out the door. She darts after them, freezing at the door's frame with a flustered expression.

"Wait!"

The couple turns around.

The serval gives a deep violent bow, arms glued to the side of her torso. With her head still lowered, they can only make out her trembling shoulders.

"Thank you! Both of you."

A strange feeling encompasses Desmond. Words like 'grief' or 'pity' or 'desire' do not properly describe it, but it feels like how one would feel when one's brain released every single neurotransmitter all at once. And when one feels like that, one doesn't say a thing.

Eloise is perfectly capable of speech, however. "You are only allowed to rely on upperclassmen once. May this not repeat itself."

With that, the hare is gone, clutching the fabric of her partner's tie like a leash and towing him down the stairs.

"What an infuriating female." She huffs under her breath.

Desmond somewhat snaps out of his daze. "What…? Why do you say that?"

"I dislike being wrong."

She doesn't elaborate, but she does let go of the ram's tie. He still matches her pace. Once they are greeted by the fresh air, Eloise inspects their surroundings.

"I suppose I'd like to see the field before I leave. I want to know if they ever fixed the broken step on that bleacher—"

Desmond interrupts her with a tight hug. Even Eloise cannot feign indifference towards the sudden move.

With arms still wrapped around her, he speaks quietly. "That was hot as fuck."

He releases her without a fuss, and makes his way down the paved walkway towards the south. "You wanna see the fields, right?"

It takes a few seconds before Eloise responds.

She just laughs.

AN: Happy 2023, dear readers. Apologies for my typical silence, holiday season is unideal for writing. Fortunately, this hiatus also gave me time to develop the story, so without further ado, let's have a good year of writing and reading together.

What did Hafsa and Priya talk about? Who knows? Wink.

Eloise returns, more pissy than ever. Hopefully, you understand why she was a hell of a student council president back in her day. Desmond clearly likes a girlboss.

Take it easy and stay safe.