Thadius Bogo stood over his desk arranging maps and making small notes with a black sharpie.

It was Wednesday and for Bogo, the end of his work week. For the last three months the musclebound Chief of police had been scaling back his hours. Recently, he considered it a victory if he managed to spend a full three days at the precinct.

Officer Fangmeyer had been promoted to assistant chief months ago and Bogo found himself ever more willing to hand off responsibilities to the younger officer whenever they came up. It was to the point where most members of the ZPD had simply stopped coming to him with everyday police business. It was expected that the cape buffalo would be taking an early retirement at some point in the near future.

In truth, Bogo might as well have been retired. He'd lost all taste for his work. Incredibly, and after a life dedicated to policing, he simply could no longer find the will to care.

Thadious Bogo had become obsessed. To be fair, much of the police force had shared his obsession at one point.

Judy Hopps and Nicholas Wilde were gone and almost certainly dead.

In the beginning, after the official searches had turned up nothing, many members of the ZPD (Bogo included) would head out in teams to search the wilderness for their wayward friends. Months past and then an entire year - over a year and a half, and the search had been abandoned by all but one Chief of police who was barely even that anymore.

It was the same thing that had made him a good cop, his tireless dogged determination - his unmovable stubbornness, that had been his downfall. Because he couldn't give up. He wasn't built that way. Every failure only strengthened his resolve to KEEP LOOKING; week after week, month after month.

There was more to it then that. Although Bogo would never admit it, except perhaps to himself, he had always seen his two smallest Officers as different. Judy Hopps was perhaps the only mammal he had ever met more tenacious then himself. And she had achieved things he never expected. She even caused him to change his views; a near impossible task. While Wilde, the shifty fox that he was, somehow over the years that they worked together, had become someone he counted as a friend. With the exception of Clawhauser, Nick was the first of his peers that Bogo had ever spent any time with outside of work, and unexpectedly, became the first one he would confide in when he thought something was wrong with one of his officers.

Judy and Nick had been incredible together - the best partners he'd ever seen. They were the first cops he'd ever felt were truly fit to take on the greater responsibilities of protecting their fair city. He'd planned for them to rise through the ranks and some day replace him. Yet, they were fragile, and Bogo had always felt a pang when he sent them out to uphold the law. He realized that, unmarried and devoid of much family (as he was) Nick and Judy had come close to being something like children to him; maybe more like protégés. He cared about them far, far more then he would ever admit.

While he mused over his maps, Fangmeyer slipped into his office. The female tiger let her gaze rest on him for a moment, a flicker of sadness in her eyes… or was it pity.

"Afternoon Chief."

Bogo just grumbled in response. He wasn't even wearing his uniform as he'd changed into quick-drying hiking attire an hour earlier.

"Looks like you're ready to head out. Got an itinerary for me?"

Bogo handed her a small pile of papers including a map. "I marked out the route as usual. Some hiker went missing up in Solemn Ridge about a week ago. It's just a few miles outside of my frame. Thought I might as well increase my chances of actually finding something."

"Sir, I know you don't want to hear this but… they're gone."

"We've had this conversation already and you are aware of my opinion."

"Sir-"

"Drop it!" Bogo went so far as to add a little menace into his voice. It was enough.

"Yes sir." Fangmeyer turned and headed for the door. Just as she was about to leave, Bogo heard her whisper what had become their customary goodbye as he'd depart for his five day 'camping trips'.

"Good luck Chief."

Twenty minutes later Bogo was ready. Instead of heading out through the main hall he decided to sneak out through an emergency exit in the stairwell.

"It really is getting bad when I feel like a thief in my own precinct."

If he could barely stand to put in a twenty-four hour work week, it was time for him to retire. His pension was going to be pretty thin. If he sold the house though he could buy some land up in the Wernicke's, build a little cabin, spend the winters in Zootopia with his sister. The degree to which his vision of his retired life had changed in the last two yeasr was astounding. Maybe Fangmeyer was right. Perhaps he needed professional help. But, who was he kidding, he was never going to sit down with some head doctor. He'd take life as a hermit in the woods over that.

Opening the back door of his jeep, Bogo checked his pack over one final time. Satisfied, he got into the driver seat and pulled out his phone. There was one final ritual to attend to before he got underway.

Scrolling through a list of saved videos, Bogo found the one he was looking for. For the thousandth time he watched the grainy footage, shot from a camera mounted on the underside of a gas station shelter.

*From the left, a small red hatchback pulls next to a gas pump. Out from the passenger door comes an exuberant Judy Hopps, beginning a two week vacation in Bunnyburrows where she plans to inform her family of her engagement to one, Nick Wilde. From the driver's side the smug fox comes into view. He smiles and gestures, seeming to make some joke or innuendo that sets his rabbit partner off into a fit of laughter. (As always, Bogo wonders what it was that she found so funny.)Then a hooded figure appears from inside the gas station convenience store.*

Later it would be discovered to be none other than Doug Ramsey, the sheep who had assisted Bellweather in her plot and had remained for so long at large. Later still, the same ram would be found in a motel, dead, apparently having put a gun to his head.

*In the video Doug approaches the two officers who are too wrapped up in their private jokes to notice him. In one swift motion he draws a pistol and fires; first at Nick and then at Judy. Both mammals are struck with nighthowler pellets and begin to writhe in rage and agony as Doug makes a quick escape, his vehicle spinning it's tires and accelerating away. Moments later the two mammals fall to all-fours and begin to circle one another. The savage fox leaps at the rabbit who then bolts away towards the trees. The fox gives chase.*

Neither Nick or Judy had ever been seen or heard from again since that moment.

Most believed them to be dead. In Bunnyburrows a funeral had been held, to which Bogo refused to attend. Some theorized that one or both might be alive; although most believed, though rarely shared in public, that the savage fox had probably killed and eaten his fiancé not long after the end of the recording.

This was a scenario Bogo chose not to entertain. Him and his officers scoured those woods for weeks and found nothing. No dead bunny, not even a sign that they had ever even been there. They could still be alive.

Bogo clicked off his phone and sighed. Starting his engine he pulled out of the ZPD parking lot, steeling himself for the six hour drive ahead.

That evening the cape buffalo arrived in the tiny town of Solemn Ridge; population 264.

He stopped briefly at the squat, three room police station and gave them a copy of his hiking route before asking the sheriff about the lost hiker. James Rudolph, a reindeer, had gone missing. Searches had been conducted by helicopter for the last few days but had thus far discovered nothing. Having an estranged family and few friends, the reindeer was likely to become a forgotten file in a basement cabinet before long.

That night Bogo slept in his Jeep, somehow much calmer now that he was again out in the wilderness. It was strange, but the outdoors had slowly worked its way into his blood. During the last four hours of his drive he had passed a grand total of five cars. He found that fact strangely comforting. Maybe he'd just dealt with the ignorant, self-serving masses for too long; long enough for a lifetime really.

Bogo awoke in his reclined car seat just as the first rays of sun made their way through his windshield. As always, the mountain vista before him, illuminated by the rising sun, took his breath away.

Stretching before grabbing the large camping pack out of his backseat, Bogo locked the car and took a deep breath. If he was lucky he could reach the top of the nearest mountain by noon. Then it would be a matter of following the ridges as they snaked through the rugged landscape, dipping low before rising up again towards the sky. He was grateful at least that the mountains before him weren't tall enough to have much snow on them at this time of the year.

Within a few minutes of walking into the deep bush, Bogo let the familiar feeling of 'aloneness' settle over him that he'd become so accustomed to these last years. He let his mind wander, both taking in the landscape and playing over the events of his life. It was easy to feel almost like his time as police Chief, and the city of Zootopia itself, were all a strange and distant dream.

Bogo traversed his way to the nearest mountain top an hour before the sun reached its zenith. All these weeks of walking had done wonders for his stamina. On the other hoof, he wasn't the ultra-built buffalo he once was. Was he muscular? Very, but now it was a leaner, thinner version of himself that stopped at the mountaintop and found a small patch of melting snow. As a small victory celebration he grabbed a handful of slush and rubbed it into his face and dropped it down his shirt. He was so heated from essentially walking straight up a hill for four hours, carrying a third of his body-weight on his back, that the snow felt amazing and melted almost instantly.

For the remainder of the day Bogo traveled quickly along the ridges of the mountains, consulting his GPS frequently. Although he was never able to travel directly towards his destination, in general he was making progress, and far faster than if he had dropped prematurely into the valleys. A straight line in these wildernesses was never the quickest path.

As the sun began to set, Bogo found the melting remains of winter's snow, pressed into the mountains saddle. Beneath the snow covered run, he could hear a running river of meltwater that was trickling along the rocky face. Giving his hooves a needed rest he slid and bounced his way down the long snowy stretch, descending at what would have been a breakneck speed otherwise. Half way down he slipped and slid on his rump for a few dozen feet, spraying glittering plumes of melting snow into the air. The buffalo's laughter echoed deeply across the landscape as he pulled himself to his feet, first running, only to purposefully drop to his butt again as he slid. The rumbling laughter was this time accompanied by a get whoop.

Semi-wet and feeling light on his hooves, Bogo found a spot near what was becoming a steadily widening stream, far enough from the rocks not to injure his back, but close enough that he could bathe and still quickly retreat to his fire. He set his camp on a clear patch of dirt and moss while preparing a light prepackaged meal. Hours later Bogo slept deeply, happily and exhausted in the safety of his tent.

The next morning he awoke, cold, and in much need of a piss but overall refreshed, only to be confronted as he opened his tent by a sprawling chaotic mess. His backpack was torn open, the various items he carried for survival were strewn about the camp site. Taking quick stock he began to carefully scan the area, treating it like a crime scene.

Teeth, his bag had definitely been torn by teeth. His food was mostly gone, except for two metallic bags that had been ripped open, their contents spilled and mixed into the dirt. There were prints!

"Paw, prints in the dirt, most definitely a small mammal, canine, could be a fox."

A feeling of overwhelming excitement was building inside Bogo. Giving up on his investigation he immediately went about trying to find his tranquilizer gun. He got to it quickly, as it was still attached to his belt which he had kept inside his tent. Next, he found his GPS/ Sat phone. The phone turned on fine, and the GPS seemed to work, but a line of teeth marks up the phone's antenna spoke to why the satellite signal remained lost. Grabbing a few more things, he wasted no more time, abandoning what remained of his camp.

In slow, ever widening circles Bogo searched.

"Where did you go Wilde?"

Bogo chastised himself for jumping to conclusions as to the owner of said paw prints. It could have been other hikers.

"Not likely."

It might have been a lizard or something… No, nothing lived in these hills. Maybe thousands of years ago before mammals evolved, but now it was nothing but birds and bugs.

"There! Another set of prints."

Bogo pumped his fist in victory and slowly began to scamper along, almost on his knees. They made a trail that was leading away from the camp. There had been far too much food in that bag for Wilde to have stolen it all at once; especially if he was holding it all between his teeth.

Pretty soon it became apparent that his assumption had been true. More obvious than the paw prints were the small marks made by the food bags as they had been dragged across the ground. Bogo began following them, at first walking slowly, but with mounting excitement, he upgraded his pace to a light jog. He tried to move as silently as he could, as he didn't want to startle the fox. He just needed to get close enough to hit him with a dart.

Moving up a hill and through an area of dense underbrush Bogo finally emerged into a small glen filled with long grass.

It was instantaneous, before his conscious mind had time to catch up with his instinct, Bogo knew there was something wrong. The fur all over his body suddenly stood on end and adrenaline began pumping through his veins.

"What? Why?"

As the seconds ticked by the evidence became ever more apparent. Flies, the sounds of a great horde of them - pressed grass, and droppings - the sound of birds had ceased. There was something in the air... decay - blood - death; Bogo had smelt it before.

Stepping further into the clearing he saw it; the bright colors of torn fabric which clung to a corpse. The body of James Rudolf was missing some very vital bits, including a face. If not for the fact that he'd worked in homicide all those years ago, and that he hadn't eaten any breakfast, Bogo would have surely lost it. Nonetheless, he felt bile rise into his throat when, with a dawning horror he spotted a small grey rabbit staring at him with feral eyes. The moment he met the slitted purple glare, she began to hiss. It was then that Bogo saw the tiny red and grey bundles behind her.

"Kits?!"

Bogo's confused thoughts spun as he tried to understand what he was seeing.

"Hopps had a litter of babies? She must have been pregnant. There are… there are at least ten… there is more than one litter here. How? Who killed Rudolph? Not just killed. He's been… eaten. Could Wilde have-"

A blur of red fur, claws and fangs was suddenly on him, scratching and scrambling, tearing at his clothes. Razor sharp teeth lunged forward, biting down hard into his shoulder as Bogo whipped around, slipping into the long grass. The pain was exquisite. Rows of tiny knives were shredding his left trapezius muscle. With a deep bellied scream Bogo tried to shake off his attacker, but to no avail. Finally, regaining some semblance of sense, gripping the foxes neck in one hand he drew his dart gun and fired it point blank into Wilde's ribs. The fox continued to growl and whip his head about for several seconds before going still; asleep. The growling didn't cease though. Looking up, Bogo saw Judy who was creeping toward him, death was in her eyes. He didn't give her time to strike. Reloading the tranquilizer gun in a single, one handed motion that he had perfected years prior, and was part of the reason he had once been a legend on the streets, Bogo fired. As always, his aim was true, and just as Judy leapt towards him she was struck in the neck. By the time her boneless body reached him, she was already out cold and slid harmlessly up against his leg.

In one excruciating movement, Bogo pulled Nicks jaw off his shoulder. A series of sickening pops rang in his ears as rows of teeth became unstuck from his blood-soaked flesh. The red fluid was already running freely and had begun to dribble down the fingers of his currently useless left arm. He needed to get back to camp and patch himself up immediately.

Scooping the unconscious rabbit and fox up in his good arm he looked back at the kits who were sitting and watching him.

"Ok babies just… just wait right there. I'm coming back."

Bogo had never abandoned a horde of kittens in the middle of the forest before, but what was he supposed to do? This was most definitely a day of firsts.

Quickly, before doing anything else, he took a quick count of the, the twelve… no thirteen, whatever they were… children! They were children. Impossible, unnatural children of a fox and a rabbit. Bogo had to stifle a laugh that fought to escape his throat. It was borne of pure incredulous shock, and he determined it was best not to entertain, lest it turn into a full blown mental breakdown. Still, he silently judged the probability that he had lost his mind was fairly high at this point. If not for the agonizing pain in his shoulder he might have simply lay down in bewilderment.

Minutes later, crashing through the underbrush, the buffalo found himself back at his campsite. Immediately he dropped Judy and Nick down onto the moss before finding his first aid kit. He opened it one-handed, and went to work sterilizing and bandaging his mangled shoulder. The shirt he'd been wearing was a write-off so he simply tore it from his body. After staunching the flow of blood, and taping as much gauze to himself as possible, Bogo pulled on his windbreaker and made a quick sling so his arm wouldn't sway about as he traveled.

"Now to get the kits."

Bogo found the remains of his backpack and a spool of nylon thread. He began haphazardly lashing the bag back together when he noticed movement in his periphery. Bunny… foxes, were coming out of the trees and gathering around their unconscious parents.

"Hey little-ones, thanks for saving me the trouble of coming to find you." Bogo said cheerfully as he skittered on the edge of an existential crisis.

Unnervingly the kits looked up at him as he spoke. Their eyes fixed on him, and in there clear, intelligent orbs of green and purple and blue, he saw an unwavering awareness.

Swallowing, Bogo finished the ridiculous, nearly unconscionable job he had been doing with the nylon thread. The status of the backpack could now be upgraded from totally useless to mostly useless. Not wanting to think about it further, Bogo stood and approached the strange family cautiously. The kits never flinched at his approach, and instead continued to bore into him with their eyes.

As he was about to reach down and scoop up their mother, a single kit hopped forward; putting itself in front of her. When it opened its mouth, and began to speak, Bogo felt sure that he really was going insane. The words that it uttered were an impossible garble; like a toddlers mumbling but sharp and distinct, varied, like a real language.

"Murmum bak *click* abombom tum bub. Agaga urm-murm *teeth clack* oompum oom."

Bogo thought he was going to be sick and in a wavering voice responded automatically. "I'm sorry little one. I… I don't understand."

"Orry libble om… don umberstan."

At that, all the kits began to jabber and parrot his words, seeming happy and infinitely pleased having discovered a new game,

"Orry orry. Umber-stan! Libble, litble, libblestam! Donlibble orry-rorry, libble-dib."

"Oh, gods above… I'm not equipped to handle this."

Coming apart at the seams Bogo grabbed Judy and placed her roughly into the backpack. He lay it down next to the kits and pointed, "Get in kits. Go to your mother."

Impossibly, moments later, that's just what they did, still babbling, no, they were chanting; singing.

"What is this? What… what are they? Fangmeyer you were right, I've lost it."

Frantic now, Bogo hefted the bag filled with tiny chattering bodies over his shoulder. He grabbed Wilde by the scruff of the neck and tossed him into the crook of his arm.

Then Bogo ran.

He leapt and scrabbled over rock - clambered up slopes and along ridges and through trees for hours and hours. His breath heaving in his great lungs, blood caking the side of his body until at last, just as the last rays of sun were disappearing behind the mountains, he came upon his parked jeep. He placed the bag and the fox onto his passenger seat, hooves shaking, his vision narrow and frayed at the edges. Fumbling, he got his key in the ignition and the jeep started with a roar. Peeling down the road with abandon, ten miles later he came to a skittering halt just outside the sheriff's station.

He got everyone inside.

He told the officers who the two unconscious, naked mammals were as he administered a second dose of tranquilizer to each.

The deputy, who had come around his desk to investigate, shrieked like a five-year-old when a small horde of kits began to pour out of the torn bag. "What the fuck!"

The poor mammal looked about ready to kick at them out of shear reflex before Bogo roared from where he was sprawled out on the floor, "Don't you touch them! Hurt even one and your goddamned life will be forfeit, do you hear me!"

The deputy recoiled like a whipped dog as the interior of the office settled into a deep silence.

Taking a breath Bogo redirected his attention to the sheriff, "Get us some help. Call precinct one. I want a chopper here. I want emergency responders! Don't just stand there you morons, move!"

Both of the flabbergasted mammals sprung into action and suddenly Bogo was left alone on the floor.

Dazed, he glanced at the kits who were now wandering the room. Feeling as unlike himself as he ever had in his life, Bogo pulled both the rabbit and fox, his wayward officers, his friends, and lay them against his chest. With a single hoof he tapped against the linoleum flooring and beckoned to the kits, "Come here… come on little ones."

Somehow, they understood, and like goslings following their mother, flocked to him. Soon he was covered in them as they crawled over him, nestling into his coat, under his chin and within his arms where he held their sleeping parents.

Feeling a slight tingling sensation Bogo looked down to see that several were licking at the blood on his arm. He saw them properly for the first time. They were like rabbits but, longer in the body and the tail. They had pointed ears, short but protruding muzzles lined with sharp teeth. They were red and grey and white. And finally, their eye… their eyes… the pupils of which were long vertical slits; savage, every one of them was savage. Yet, as they slept against him, murmuring to one another, Bogo no longer understood what that word even meant.

He was crying. Some knot of fear and sadness he'd been carrying inside him had suddenly come loose. His mind, spirit and body were stretched to their utmost limit. Feeling himself growing hazy with exhaustion and blood loss, the great buffalo slowly surveyed his charges.

.

.

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"Twelve… "

.

.

.

"Twelve…"

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.

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"Twelve kits."

He counted again.

.

.

.

"Twelve kits."

Was it always twelve… or had he… it was so chaotic in the forest and he had practically guessed at the number. He could have easily counted one twice, or simply gone too fast. He must have miscounted.

As Bogo found himself drifting into unconsciousness he thought,

"There were twelve."

"I miscounted…"

"I must have…"

.

.

.

.

.

"I must have."

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Hey all! So, this was a long time coming, sorry bout' that. Anyway, I decided a while ago to go ahead with 'Savage Wilde Hopps'. However, if you would like to vote on a secondary fic from among these five please do so and I'll take that into consideration if and when I decide to write more of one. Thanks!