"Which way do we go?" asked Snowy, looking down the three-way intersection outside El Rancho Camelot estates. "Left or right? Come on, Marissa, you have the directions."

"I have the address," corrected Marissa, waving the clipping around. "But at any rate, left is not right."

John blinked. "What?"

"She means that we have to go to the right," explained Katrina, rolling her eyes. "See, look. It's a dead end over there." And indeed, there was a large yellow sign — which said simply END — plastered to a fence post, blocking the road.

"I wonder what's behind that dead end?" said Snowy with wonder as she turned in the direction Katrina indicated.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Snowy," John said, smiling bleakly. "It's the edge of a cliff. So yeah, I'd say we don't want to go that way."

"The city is this way," Marissa added, gesturing with her paw again. "Let's go, we haven't got all day."

"Easy for you to say; I don't see you running all the way there —" started John.

"Guys," said Katrina tersely, cutting them off. "No arguments, remember? Come on."

John looked ready to say something else, but eventually just shook his head, and he and Snowy continued walking. The road took them up a green hill, towards the forest — the forest where RJ says Vincent once resided, thought Katrina absently. She shuddered, though she admittedly had never met the bear herself. Judging from RJ's accounts, he was about as friendly as Dr. Vexon.

Soon John and Snowy found a trail through the forest, and walked along it silently. The four animals were grateful for the shelter of the dense leaves; no longer did they have to worry about humans spotting them (for now, at any rate). After a time, a large building emerged through the trees. The front was all windows, and there was a large arch over the entrance. As the two cats drew closer, Katrina made out the sign on the front: The El Rancho Camelot SPCA. The place where Parker had gone to work after leaving the lab. Katrina smiled: it was good to know that not all humans were bent on destroying animals.

Predictably, as John and Snowy reached the doors of the building, there was a large sign on the front: CLOSED. Open 7 am to 5 pm Monday through Friday; 9 to 4 on weekends.

"Dang. Still an hour left," said Marissa, reading the sign.

"I doubt the rest of the staff would know who we were, anyway," Katrina pointed out.

"True..." muttered John, casting an eye around the area. "I wonder..."

And he circled around the building, moving toward the back. Snowy followed cautiously, and soon they reached a back door. Katrina smiled: there was a pet flap at the bottom. It was a tight fit, but John and Snowy managed to follow Marissa and Katrina through.

They were inside the SPCA.

"Directory, directory, where's the directory," Katrina said to herself, looking around the building. There was a reception desk in the lobby; the four of them headed for that. With typical natural elegance for a cat, John jumped up to the front desk and rifled through one of the clipboards.

"Here we go. Larry Parker, second floor, office 12." John hopped down off the desk and Marissa jumped on his back again. After searching around for a bit, the four of them found the staircase; they climbed up to the second floor and found himself in a long corridor, with doors dotted down the hallway.

"It's kind of like an apartment building," John said. "8 ... 10 ... here we go, 12."

He reared up and turned the handle with his paw. To their surprise, it was unlocked. Slowly John creaked open the door, and the four of them peered in.

What they saw astounded them. The office had been completely destroyed; there was no sign of Parker anywhere. There were papers and office supplies strewn every which way; the computer on the desk had been turned over, the screen cracked and the keyboard broken in half. There was a large window on one wall, and the glass had been dented: Katrina could see her and her sister's reflection distorted and mirrored dozens of times (Marissa promptly made faces at it like she was in a fun house).

Snowy and John shuffled around the office in disbelief, their claws getting stuck to several scraps of paper. The wooden desk in the center had also been turned over; splinters littered the carpet around it. A small piece of paper, halfway buried by the upturned desk, caught Katrina's eye; there were a lot of circles and red marks on it. She jumped off Snowy's shoulders slowly pulled it out with a paw, careful not to rip it any more, and she, Marissa, Snowy and John read it together.

It was quite hard to decipher: it was torn halfway down the middle and severely crumpled. But at last they managed to make out a brief passage:

... said property to be purchased by a Mr. Envox (Dr. Parker had circled the name); the rights (Dr. Parker had circled this too) to said piece of land to be included in the purchase, including selected permits and values; said purchase to be made for the total of —

Here the paper was torn again, and the four of them searched frantically for the other pieces; but they could not find them, and gave up in vain. John and Marissa instead poked through the office for more clues, while Snowy leaped onto the windowsill to see if she could make sense of the scene surveying it from above. Katrina, however, smoothed the paper out even more, and read the passage again, trying to make sense of it. It just looked like a lot of legal mumbo-jumbo to her. Why had Parker circled the name Envox? Had he been an old friend?

"What on Earth happened here?" Snowy asked, looking around at the destroyed office.

"I don't know," said John, "but from the look of things, it happened quite recently."

"But this clipping is dated a week ago," said Katrina, gesturing toward the newspaper fragment.

"Sure," said John, "but there's a bit of spilled coffee here."

"So?" said Marissa, swiping a finger through it and tasting some. "It's not even that good."

"No," said John patiently, "my point is, if it had spilled a week ago, it would have dried out by now. No, wherever Dr. Parker went, he left recently, and he left in a hurry. Who knows where he's gone, though."

"Did he go by himself, though?" Katrina asked, an inexplicable sense of dread sweeping through her as she read the clipping once more. "Or was he ... forced? Hard not to imagine, given the looks of things."

"Guys," said Snowy, looking out the window. She seemed to be having difficulty breathing; her eyes were wide as she gazed out at the landscape. "Trouble."

"What?" said Marissa impatiently, turning to look up at the cat. "Snowy, get down here and help —"

"Big trouble," said Snowy, still looking out the window, alarm written all over her face.

"What's the matter, Snowy?" said John, jumping up to look for himself. Snowy pointed a trembling paw at the landscape.

"There's a bulldozer heading into the suburbs."

Unaware of the impending danger surrounding them, the animals back at the Hedge had dispersed awhile ago to grab some breakfast and much-needed sleep. Now they gathered in a circle in the clearing once more, Lilly placing a paw on RJ's head. The raccoon's sleeping form looked far from peaceful; his breathing was hard and ragged, and he was sweating slightly.

"His condition's worsening," said Lilly quietly; RJ's forehead was burning. The possum cast her eyes to the sky, where the sun was making its way across the horizon. "And the summer heat isn't going to help things."

For once words failed Ozzie, and he mutely placed an arm around his wife; Lilly raised a paw and held his in turn. She then turned to face the Hedgies again, and made to speak — but she hesitated, her voice failing her. Finally she was able to say: "If he doesn't wake up by tonight, then — it's unlikely he'll ever wake up at all."

Her words might well have been a sledgehammer; the Hedgies looked stunned and, indeed, unable to react. Silence descended upon the glade for several moments, before a figure finally broke from the crowd and strode forward to Lilly. It was Verne, his golden eyes shining. "Isn't there anything we can do? Anything?"

"I'm afraid that unless Dr. Parker is found, then the best we can do is try to keep him cool," Lilly said sorrowfully, and Heather wordlessly went to the mini-bar, grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and walked back to RJ, placing it gently on the raccoon's forehead. This seemed to calm the raccoon somewhat, and his breathing slowed; though he was still sweating.

"But —" Verne started, and he spun around to face the crowd, "—but we have lab animals! Half a dozen of you have been experimented on, and you've managed to survive somehow! You're prepared for the worst, aren't you? You can recover from anything!" The turtle was losing all sense of rationality as he pointed an accusing finger at select animals from the crowd. "Frank! Willow! Jackson! George! And you!" Here he swung round again and pointed his finger at Lilly. "Don't any of you know more than this? Our leader is dying and you're saying you can't do anything about it! What on Earth is wrong with you?"

Panting, Verne lowered his finger and paused; then he sat down on the ground and put his head in his hands. He seemed to regret his outburst; silent sobs racked his body and he refused to look any of the Hedgies in the eye. Presently another figure stepped forward, toward the turtle.

"You're our leader as much as he is, Verne," said Stella, placing a comforting paw on his shoulder. "You know that."

"No one can replace RJ," said Verne stubbornly, lowering his hands, though still not looking at Stella. "No one."

"And no one is trying to," said Tiger, joining his beloved by Verne's side. "Ve are all trying as hard as ve can to get RJ back vith us."

"All of us, Verne," Lou repeated, and Penny and the kids nodded. "And you know that."

Silence again descended on the clearing; all of the animals were looking at Verne, waiting. And finally the turtle inhaled deeply and nodded. "You're right." He stood up again, facing the rest of the Hedgies. "The best we can hope for is that RJ —" he hesitated, "—that RJ always has his family with him. And I trust you guys. I trust Katrina, Marissa, Snowy and John." He surveyed the crowd before him. "They'll be back soon, I know it, and they'll bring Dr. Parker, and then we'll all be with RJ when he wakes —" Verne's breath suddenly caught in his throat. "Wait."

He surveyed the crowd again, and abruptly he whispered, "We're missing someone."

Verne turned to face Stella and Tiger, and they raised their eyebrows at the panicked turtle. When Verne spoke, his breathing was hoarse.

"Where's Hammy?"

"Where are they," the squirrel in question muttered frantically as he dug around the log. "Where are they, where are they, where are they!"

He zipped out of the log and through the forest, dashing about in a panic as he looked for the one thing that, he had convinced himself, could save RJ. "WHERE ARE THEY!" he shouted again, holding his paws to his head and looking skyward, wincing as the sun crossed his vision. "Ow..."

The little squirrel zipped to and fro again, looking under rocks, behind trees, through grass clippings, anywhere and everywhere his beloved treasures could be, until he finally ran particularly fast through a rosebush and collided with a large black-and-white object. He and his companion both fell backward with a chorus of "Oof!" Hammy sprang to his feet and looked to see who he had accidentally ran into.

"Hammy?" Stella said in confusion, getting to her feet. "Where have you been? Everyone's been worried sick —"

"WHERE ARE MY COOKIES?" Hammy shouted in frustration, holding his paws to his head again. "Where are they, where are they, where are they —"

Stella blinked. "Uh, strange time to be looking for your cookies, isn't it, Hammy?" She frowned when she failed to get a reaction; the squirrel was still holding his head and repeating his mantra to himself. "Hamsquad. Come on. Let's go back to the —"

"THE COOKIES CAN SAVE RJ!" Hammy gasped, grabbing onto Stella, and the skunk fell backward, bewildered. "They can wake him up! Please, I know they can!" the squirrel said pleadingly, imploringly. "It worked with me! Why wouldn't it work with him?"

Stella blinked. "Well," she started slowly. "Because —"

"NO! Don't say anything, I know they'll work!" said Hammy desperately, and he let go of Stella abruptly, dashing around the clearing again. "Please, please, please, let me find them, oh, I don't know where I put them, please let me —"

"Hammy," Stella said gently. The squirrel paused briefly from his search and looked up at her, though he was plainly itching to resume his quest. "I don't think your cookies could wake up RJ, even if you could find them."

"NO!" Hammy shouted again, coming to stand in front of Stella. His eyes were full of tears as he looked up at her. "They HAVE to work! Don't you understand? It's my fault that RJ got like this! Oh, I'm such an idiot!" He sat down and beat himself on the head with his tiny little fists. "I was up on that tree branch, he came to save me, I didn't know I was in danger — I — d-didn't know — th-that he would be — hit —" The squirrel trembled momentarily then collapsed in sobs, shaking on the ground in front of Stella.

"Oh, Hammy," Stella said quietly, kneeling down to sit beside him. She rubbed his back comfortingly as the squirrel let out all the frustration, pain, fear, concern — all the emotions that had overwhelmed him for so long, until he could no longer hold them in. Hammy held his head in his paws as he cried, his chest heaving, until at last his sobs quieted to occasional sniffles, and he again looked up at Stella. "I — h-have to — get RJ to w-wake up," he said, voice trembling. "I — d-don't know what would happen if — if I c-can't."

"He will wake up," Stella said firmly, though in her heart she knew that there was no way to know for certain. "And he won't need any cookies to do it. Parker will help him." Stella blinked then gave a half-smile. "And besides, he wouldn't want to take from your cookie stash. Those are only for you."

Hammy smiled a bit as well, through the tears. "He w-was the one who made that rule," the squirrel remembered, drying his eyes.

"And he'll be there to reinforce it before long. Just you wait," said Stella, rubbing Hammy's back fur again.

"Do you really th-think so, Stella?" asked Hammy, as the two of them stood up to make their way back to the clearing.

Stella blinked, then forced a smile. "Sure I do, Hammy."

"Positive?" pressed the squirrel as they walked.

"Just you wait," Stella repeated.

Still unaware that his mind was reliving something that had occurred years ago, RJ ran with his mother through the forest, looking desperately for his younger brother. "Raymond!" shouted the raccoon, and Jill joined in, voice full of concern. "RAYMOND!" the two of them shouted. "Where are you?"

The bear roar came from behind them again, and RJ skidded to a halt. "Mom, we can't call for him, Vincent will know where we are! We can't —"

"How else do you propose to find him, RJ?" Jill shouted, whirling around, and there was a tinge of madness in her voice. Jill's concern for her son was pushing her to hysteria; RJ, noticing this, stepped backward involuntarily. Jill noticed his movement and blinked, then inhaled deeply to calm herself down. "If you have any other suggestions, I'm all ears," she said, voice slightly quieter. "But otherwise, keep looking for him."

Knowing perfectly well that they didn't have any other options, RJ nodded and the two of them resumed their quest. "Raymond!" RJ shouted again, as the two of them ran through the undergrowth. "Raymond!"

Soon the two of them reached a large, wooden fence. "That's the crop field we were scavenging in when your father was captured," said Jill, not stopping, and she climbed through the fence without a second thought. "If Raymond is anywhere nearby, he'd be in here, so come on!" she shouted behind her.

RJ knew she was right, but still stopped for a moment, reluctant to follow. Then the bear roar came again and he realized that the tall crops would offer them protection; without hesitation he pressed forward and climbed through the fence as well.

Judging by the rustling sounds ahead of him, Jill was several yards in front; RJ could hear her voice calling Raymond's name as she plowed through the field. RJ took a slight detour and headed to the left; looking down the rows of vegetables for the tan fur that belonged to his younger brother. "Raymond!" he shouted again, voice exhausted with effort, "Raymond!"

The two raccoons moved deeper into the field, keeping a wary watch for humans; but they seemed to have gone inside after Tim's capture and so all was quiet for now. RJ shoved several of the plants aside as he made his way through, all the while calling his brother's name. "Where are you, Raymond? We have to go! Come on!"

Suddenly RJ stopped shouting, and his ears twitched in the still breeze. There was a large, ominous rustling sound coming from behind him. A chill ran down his back as he realized what it meant.

Vincent had entered the field.

"Raymond!" RJ called again, his voice now tinged with urgency. "Raymond!"

The rustling grew louder. Vincent was gaining.

"Raymond!" RJ shouted desperately, pushing plant after plant aside, running faster and faster through the crops. "Where are you? Come on! Raymond!"

RJ could hear his mother's voice calling for his brother some distance in front of him; she had almost reached the other end of the crop field. RJ's stomach lurched; if she hadn't found Raymond, then where was he? "Raymond!" RJ shouted again, "Ray—"

Suddenly he stopped. He had stumbled into a small clearing where all of the plants had been pushed roughly aside, creating a circle. In the middle of this circle was a bucket, cast on its side, fruit spilling out of it. But what RJ was drawn most to was the color of the bucket. It was a pale blue.

Blue.

Raymond's favorite color.

With a dark slash of red along the center.

"No..." RJ whispered, falling to his knees, scrabbling around the area desperately, searching for some sign, any sign, of his brother's survival. There were claw marks in the soil. Had he been interrupted in his quest for food? Had he been dragged away, screaming, clinging desperately to the fruit he had worked so hard to get? Had he —

"RAYMOND!" RJ shouted, desperately, hopelessly. "PLEASE be alive!"

There was nothing, no sound to return his call, just the ominous rustling behind him. RJ's breath caught as he realized that the rustling had grown still louder. And he began to run, he was running as he never had before, running through the fields, shoving plants aside, shoving crops aside, looking desperately for something — anything — to indicate that his brother had survived, that he hadn't met the same fate as his father, that he wasn't — that he wasn't —

RJ skidded to a halt. He had reached the other fence. On the other side was Jill, her eyes widening as she saw her son. "Did you find him? Did you see where he went? Did —"

"Mom," RJ gasped as he climbed through the fence. "Mom, please, please tell me that Raymond's bucket wasn't blue."

"What? What do you mean? Of course it was blue, it was his favorite color, a pale blue, we nicked it especially for him —"

"No," RJ whispered, tears stinging his eyes. "No."

"What do you —" Comprehension suddenly dawned on Jill's face; her eyes widened and she gasped. "Oh no—"

"There was ... a red stripe on it," RJ panted. "Did it have a red stripe on it?"

"N-no ..." Jill said, shaking her head. "Not — originally..."

Neither of them moved for several minutes. RJ had doubled over from the effort of the run; he was clutching his stomach as bitter tears leaked from his eyes. Jill seemed to be struggling to hide her emotions; finally she said, in a low voice, "He could have survived."

RJ looked up. "Are you —"

"He could have," said Jill, more firmly, though she seemed to be convincing herself. "I didn't — didn't hear another struggle ..." She blinked and turned away from RJ, though he distinctly heard her voice, full of self-remorse, as she whispered, "Why did I leave him alone..."

"You had to go after Dad. It's not your fault," gasped RJ. "Come on, Mom, we have to move."

"We still have to find him!" said Jill, whirling around to face her son again. "I should never have left — we have to find Raymond!"

"You think I don't know that?" RJ yelled. "Of course we have to find him! So let's hurry up and start looking again —"

He was cut off by a large cracking sound behind him; horrorstruck, he wheeled around to see a large, towering form had broken the fence and was now mere yards away. Vincent the bear smiled as he looked down at them, that evil, leering smile for which he was so well known. "You can't run forever..." he started tauntingly.

"Mom, come on!" RJ shouted, grabbing Jill's paw, and the three of them dashed away from the fence. Vincent roared behind them, enraged that they should have the gall to try and escape him. "Faster, Mom, faster — RAYMOND!" RJ shouted, looking around him wildly. "RAYMOND, COME ON!"

He and Jill sped up even more, and their running took them down the hill the farm was located on, down through the grass and weeds, through a meadow filled with dandelions and sunflowers. The ground shook beneath them and RJ knew that Vincent was again pursuing him and Jill. Their only hope was that they would be fast enough to find Raymond before the bear was upon them.

The chase took them still further, away from the meadow and onto rocky ground, a stark contrast to the soft grass of moments before. The hot rock burned RJ's feet as he ran, though he tried to ignore it and concentrate on finding his brother. "Raymond!" he yelled. "Raymond!"

"RJ, wait!" shouted Jill, and made to stop running, but RJ dragged her along and they kept going. "I know this place!" said Jill as they ran, "it's a canyon! We're going to fall into the river in about thirty seconds—"

"Then make for the bridge!" shouted RJ, having just spotted a large structure with rope and wooden blocks strung across the approaching gorge. "Come on!"

The two raccoons veered toward it, and the rumbling beneath their feet grew louder; Vincent was getting closer still. RJ could hear the pounding of the river blow them as they approached the bridge; the water roared with a sound to rival the bear's behind them. "Raymond!" RJ shouted again, though he knew it was futile, knew that his brother couldn't possibly have made it out this far —

They were on the bridge. RJ and Jill scrambled across the wooden blocks, holding on desperately to the ropes keeping them up; the two of them both looked down involuntarily and shuddered as they saw the white water, churning and frothing. Behind them, Vincent roared again, and it was the loudest roar yet; RJ's ears rang with the combined force of the bear and the river.

Neither of them looked back, as they struggled across the bridge madly; they were little more than halfway across when suddenly, RJ felt Vincent leap into the air. The bear landed on the bridge, sending it rocking back and forth; RJ tripped, lost his balance — and fell. With a scream, the young raccoon thrust out his paw, and Jill caught it in hers; the two of them dangled precariously off of the bridge, the rushing canyon rapids far below them.

Gasping, RJ looked up. "Mom, look out!" Jill whipped her head around to see Vincent towering over her and smirking. With a satisfied roar, he swiped at Jill and caught her in his paw.

Amazingly, Jill didn't cry out. She gazed up at Vincent, and the bear's satisfied smirk disappeared as he gazed murderously down at her. "Too much trouble to bother with, you are," the bear snarled, as he began to tighten his grip. "Your sons, not so much, but you — you're spiteful. Resistant. A threat." Vincent's eyes narrowed as he glared at Jill. "And threats need to be removed."

Jill ignored the bear, turning away from him to gaze at RJ, whose paw she still clutched in her own. Jill looked down at the river below, then back at Vincent, then at RJ — and realized the only hope left for her son. She gazed at him, then smiled slightly.

"I love you," she whispered — and let go.

Vincent roared in anger and lunged for the young raccoon, but he was too late. RJ plummeted downward, the air rushing around him as the towering figure of the bear receded into the distance.

RJ never saw what happened to his mother.

But he knew, when he heard Vincent's sudden howl, a howl of triumph and victory.

He knew that all was lost.