A/N: Hello, everyone! Another drabble for you all. Let's see what's going on the life of Zootopia's favorite singer!

First, some gratitude: My deepest thanks to BookerOfWit and AngloFalcon for proofing this story and ironing out a lot of trouble spots, as well as DarkFlameWolf for offering me some guidance on the richness of Gazelle's character. Your feedback was so helpful, and I appreciate you all taking the time to do it!

Also, thanks to our latest reviewers: HawkTooth, Berserker88, and Cimar of Turalis WildeHopps. Thanks for sharing your thoughts with me!

And finally, thank you to all of you who read, fave and follow these drabbles! And be on the lookout for a new chapter of Run coming soon.

Happy reading ~ Euphonemes

Off the Trail

Chapter 7 – Woefully Underprepared

A Companion to Run: Chapter 6: Part I

"…we'll need to recode the dancer here, the avatar isn't moving correctly, and — oh, she's back!"

The rooms were cramped in the startup company's studio, and she could barely fit through the doorway. It would have been a struggle for a good deal of mammals, but for the two ocelots crowding their computer screens, it must have been easy. Certainly, she and her entourage could shimmy their way in – she was nearly as flexible as her dancers were – but it seemed pointless to make everyone uncomfortable. Instead, she offered to have them wait outside while she wrapped up the day's business, an offer they gratefully accepted.

Upon her entry, and after adjusting to the scents of week-old cheesy snacks and some sort of pastry, one of the ocelots eventually produced a clipboard, marking off items with wild scribbles. "Okay, Miss, eh, Gazelle… I think we have all of our motion capture done for the day. With this new engine, the game's gonna look great!"

In her mind's eye, she could see what people had said about her mobile game, Dancing with Gazelle:

"A rip-roaring good time; it's like you're on stage!" screamed the advertisements that bore her smiling image.

"Utter garbage and a complete waste of memory," scolded one critic on his news program.

"Gr8 gamez lol. Luv u alwayz gazelle," an overly excited user wrote after changing his profile picture to a blurry and very close-up photo of one of Gazelle's horns that no one on her staff had ever seen before; her security chief had taken another look at that.

Still, the game had performed remarkably well, and, in what had to be record time, the company had scrambled together its sequel — Dancing with Gazelle 2: The Dancening. Obviously, it was a completely abhorrent name, but that was a choice she had no say in; her creative team had needed her for the motions and nothing more. On the screens, Gazelle watched as her digital avatar gyrated on a stage set somewhere…underwater? It was hard to tell from her angle, set far above the ocelots.

"That is excellent news," she began in her sweetest voice, laced with a sense of urgency at wanting to leave the odd-smelling room. "Thank you so much for your time."

The fur on both ocelots rippled when she spoke. If she had to guess, they were most likely incredibly nervous. Gazelle knew she could have that effect on many of the mammals in Zootopia. She received a lot of looks, along with letters and notes, that communicated as much. She smiled as the ocelot's clipboard rattled in his shaking paw, and he looked like he wanted to ask a question.

No matter what, Gazelle did her best to accommodate. For her, it was beyond image…she just enjoyed being nice. Her industry could be so cruel, and with a past littered with the remains of good friendships gone sour and deeply satisfying romances breaking apart, the chance to connect was something she treasured.

At first, she had expected the ocelot to ask for her autograph. That would present an opportunity for her to finally learn their names: she had been working with them for several days now, but every time she inquired, they tended to freeze up and mutter at their computer screens until she would eventually slip through the door. Today, on this last day of working together, perhaps they had finally steeled themselves to say it.

Instead, he set down his clipboard, staring awkwardly at her feet. "Um, Gazelle? I have kind of a weird question for you…."

"Ssh!" chided the other ocelot. "C'mon, man, you can't seriously be thinking about asking her that!" He had made a show of attempting a whisper yet ensured every word was loud enough for her to hear. He must have seen this as an opportunity to make an impression and had taken it with gusto.

Doing her best to stay firmly in the room, Gazelle went on bended knee, adjusting herself so she could look the clipboard ocelot squarely in his quivering eyes. His nerves were clearly punishing him for having the audacity to speak up, so she made certain her tone was soft and soothing. "It's perfectly fine. Go ahead and ask your question."

The ocelot seemed about ready to tear off his paw. She thought about doing something to stop him from wringing them so hard, but eventually, he settled down on his own and, with a deep and shuddering breath, finally spoke. "I just need to know…between Judy Hopps and Arturo Lobos, where do you stand?"

Her autographing pen – tucked into a very tight pocket – had somehow wriggled its way out of place, as though in anticipation of being put to work. She shoved it back down as she studied the still-shaking ocelot. "Where do I stand?"

"Yeah, y'know…it's just, you were so supportive of everyone during the whole 'savage' thing a year ago, and you seem so smart about these kinds of things. I've been studying both of them really hard, but I just…I can't decide."

"Oh, Jerry…." The other ocelot had gone back to his computer, clicking furiously on empty documents in a clear attempt to avoid whatever discussion was about to pop up.

With a surprising fury, Jerry wheeled around, almost shouting at his coworker. "Ben, stop! Just…"

That drew in Ben's attention. Gazelle pondered as Jerry and Ben engaged in a heated staring contest that probably occurred several times a day. Now that the issue of names had been resolved, she could devote her attention to his question. She remembered the day she had shouted from the front of the protest line after ZPD's official condemnation of predators. It had been a truly awful day, and she had meant every word in the television interview she gave when she had pleaded with her fellow Zootopians not to forget the city they all once loved.

At the epicenter of that stood a rabbit in a police uniform. Gazelle had met Officer Hopps at a function hosted by her producer. As per usual, it had been an opulent event – he had spared no expense, eager to exhibit his wealth. That had made her tremendously uncomfortable, and when she circled the outer edges of the raucous crowd cheering on the elephant downing his eighth pitcher of a strong orange concoction, she had run into the officer. The rabbit had immediately confided that she also felt out of place, and they'd enjoyed each other's company for the rest of the evening.

Miss Hopps had expressed genuine remorse for her comments on that fateful day. She'd been woefully underprepared, and that was obvious to anyone who had grown accustomed to the scrutiny of the press. Still, the rabbit had hung her head in shame, her long, gray ears drooping over her striking eyes. To ease her burden, Gazelle had shared the first time that her microphone had failed onstage.

Her first producer — promptly fired after that particular show — had not charged the mic as instructed, and Gazelle had been ten minutes into her set when the sound had cut out. The crowd of confused fans murmured with a mixture of discontentment and anticipation as she scrambled backstage, woefully underprepared to handle this glitch. Half of her had wanted to bolt, to take off for the caravan and hide under the covers of her hotel bed…but her other half had begged her to stay, to figure something out. Three nerve-wracking minutes later and the harmonies of her song had floated up from the crowd as they began to sing the words themselves. She had leaped into the crowd and belted out every tune in her repertoire for two more hours. She had told Miss Hopps that things had a way of working out, and (if the rabbit's time on late-night shows and her television interviews could be believed), they eventually did.

But at no point during their conversation had Miss Hopps ever mentioned politics. And yet, here she was, running for mayor of Zootopia. In all honesty, Gazelle hadn't been paying much attention recently: she was planning her next tour, launching a charity for the city's orphans, and attending to the programming needs of these two ocelots. She knew of Miss Hopps's plans for "opportunity," and she knew a little of Mister Lobos's ideas…but really, she was woefully underprepared.

Her fur tingled as she imagined the lights of the stage again. Like before, half of her was ready to bolt for the caravan awaiting her outside the studio…but her other half begged her to stay and connect with Jerry. This shuddering ocelot clearly thought quite highly of her and her efforts to maintain a united Zootopia, and she wanted to live up to the singer who had pleaded for her fellow mammals to hold on to the Zootopia they loved.

A kind smile preceded her calming tone. "Jerry, I think you have already done a marvelous job of preparing to answer your question. You have thought about it, considered your options, and are ready to make an important decision. Listen to your heart, Jerry, and be true to yourself."

In two shakes of her tail, Jerry ceased his shuddering and began to beam. His confidence began to surface, and soon, he was standing tall. "Yes, you're right. Thank you, Gazelle…really, thank you!"

Ben sighed and mumbled something unpleasant from his spot by the computer, and Jerry was upon him with great haste. Their ensuing argument opened a perfect point for Gazelle to escape, and she promptly slipped through the door. Her tiger dancers were waiting by the entrance and escorted her to the shiny black car that would take her to the next of five more meetings she had prepared today.

She slid into the plush seat, and her dancers closed the door. Every sound in the city was muted by the airtight windows, and Gazelle took pleasure in the total silence. She used her momentary reprieve to consider Jerry's question…and how much she still needed to learn. Her time with Miss Hopps had been memorably pleasant, and a natural curiosity prodded her to action.

She pulled out her phone and, after swiping away the beta-level of The Dancening, navigated to the home page of "Judy Hopps for Mayor." Emblazoned in bold letters on the top of her screen was "Opportunity!", a term Gazelle knew a little something about.

"Time to read…" Gazelle said to herself as she began her scrolling while the car merged into traffic. Acceleration tugged at her, but she was already too lost in the thoughts of Miss Hopps to notice. A soft smile emerged as she thought about Jerry and what she had done for him with a few words...and what more could be done for others. For the next Jerry, she would not be underprepared.

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