"No way…"

"Serval Hafsa? The student council president?"

"Kidnapped. Last September. Right after the construction break."

"Not just her. The Vice President too."

"The sheep? Sheep Desmond?"

"Yeah, him. By another student!"

"You're kidding."

"It was some freshman. An albino tiger, apparently. Her class said she didn't come back."

"That's insane…"

"I heard she tried to eat both of them."

"It was her that killed the other sheep too. Back in February. That's what I heard."

"She killed another carnie too."

"Carnies are ruthless. Killing their own kind like that…"

"Imagining a psycho like that walking around… blending in with the rest of us… gives me the creeps."

"Do you think she fought back...?"

All week long, it had just been a buzz in her ear, like an aggravating mosquito. Something she couldn't flinch at, couldn't be fazed by. She knew this was going to happen.

People talk. And for a story this incredible, people talked a lot. Of course they would be curious as to why she suddenly vanished during the second semester. Not even Noah's Arc could keep the whole incident with Priya under wraps, though the entire truth regarding the Kin of Luca was concealed at the behest of the police. All the students knew was that the lone white tiger had abducted the president and vice president but was caught before long, the same tiger that had previously preyed upon two other students. The hostages were freed and promptly returned to their families.

That was the story the student council agreed to stick by. Any mention of the Kin would just… complicate matters. The academy had already taken an enormous blow to their reputation; roughly 10% of students unenrolled in the fallout of the controversy and heaps more were threatening with lawsuits. Principal House was in full damage control mode, practically begging on his knees to keep the story as is.

However, the drama had its benefits. The student body welcomed both serval and sheep back to the academy like a church welcoming the arrival of its gods. Though Desmond was certainly not a fan of pity, Hafsa discovered she thrived on it. She loved the concerned looks, the additional niceties, the saccharine gestures. As a carnie, she had never once been treated like a victim, much less one of predation, so the tenderness and adoration of her peers regarding the trauma she had undergone was… comforting both for herself and for her ego. Frankly, it's what she always wanted.

They dominated the student council election without lifting a finger. No animal would dare vote against the tragic victims of a kidnapping, it would be heartless to do so. Haven't they gone through enough? And so, all four members of student council were reinstated in almost unanimous and ceremonious fashion.

But…

Even now, as she walks down the halls, the buzzing never leaves her ears. Others may act casual to her face, but as soon as they think they are out of earshot, the muttering resumes.

"I heard she was kept in a cage…"

"I heard she bit a finger off…"

"I heard they were distant cousins…."

Preposterous rumors, the kind you'd expect only teenagers to concoct. Hafsa is no stranger to being the center of gossip, being as popular as she is. But this is getting out of hand. The last thing the serval wants is to be associated with a predation, even as a victim. It can easily spiral and work against her. But acknowledging the rumors by attempting to quash them is a bad idea, if only because the actual truth doesn't paint her in the most attractive light. Unless ripping out ears and drinking blood becomes fashionable. No, the wisest thing to do is to ignore the chatter until the next big story comes along.

There's also the matter of Desmond. The spotlight had been cast on both of them thanks to Priya, making any public interaction highly uncomfortable. Be it in a classroom, a hallway or a patio, if they're near each other, every animal in a twenty meter radius stares at them with disturbing intensity, as if they would break out in a fight at any moment. The whispering triples. For both their sakes, they decide that until the heat dies off, they're better off saving their conversations for student council meetings, protected from prying eyes.

Hafsa enters the office once so familiar to her. Seeing it again, unchanged despite everything that had happened is at once relieving and anxiety-inducing.

Nobody has arrived yet. She checks her phone for the time; she's early. Perhaps an unconscious drive to flee from the hallways led her here in a hurry. Quietly shutting the door behind her, she approaches her desk, dusty and bare. It seems all of the decorations and papers she had left behind before her abrupt disappearance had vanished. She looks down at the miniature desert of dust with solemn eyes, not daring to sully her hands by touching the surface.

It's the first day of her second term as president. An ideal scenario. So why does she feel so…

"Hey."

She turns. Desmond stands near the doorframe, hands in his pocket. Hafsa lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. With a warm smile, beckons him to enter, which he wordlessly obliges. The two simply look at each other for a moment. With all the chaos of the first week of school, they never got the chance to properly speak to each other about… well, everything.

"Hey, yourself." She greets back, taking a proper look at the sheep. Instinctively, she reaches for his neck, gently placing her fingers on its side. The ram restrained himself from jumping up; he's still far from used to her touch.

"Aw, what happened to your wool?" She asks with a pout, petting the shorn curls. "It was so nice."

He sighs amusedly. "I shaved it like I do every year. By the end of winter, it's like I'm wearing a snowsuit."

"What a shame…"

"I usually shear it even shorter because of ram fighting… But… you know." He motions towards his left arm.

She looks at the covered arm with a concerned expression. "You'll… go back once you're better, right?"

"I hope so."

"If it's any consolation, I quit the cheerleading squad too."

"What? But Hafsa, you're perfectly able to—"

"I'm not gonna show off my scar. Not when everyone's already talking so much."

Desmond grimaces but doesn't object. They share a bitter pause.

"So, how was your Rexmas?" Hafsa breaks the silence somewhat awkwardly.

"Depressing." Desmond says flatly. "Spent it alone at my brother's place. He and everyone else went to my parents' to celebrate. Obviously I wasn't welcome, what with the whole… 'being disowned' thing."

"Wow, you're right, that is depressing."

"Thanks."

The serval closes her eyes, deeply contemplating something. "I'm imagining you all by yourself sitting on a giant leather armchair in front of a fire place, sipping eggnog… wearing a nightcap and gown." An eye peeks open, gauging his reaction.

"Yeah, yeah, it was exactly that. You just missed the part where I was haunted by the spirits of Rexmas past, present and future."

The two exchange laughs.

"You know, you could've just spent Rexmas at our place. We would've loved you there." Hafsa offers.

He looks to the side. "Yeah, well… I don't like imposing like that."

"Aren't you noble…" She teases. "It wouldn't have been an imposition. My mom always makes too much food anyways, you would've helped us out. Even Solomon barely made a dent in it."

"…Solomon was there?"

Hafsa's catches herself, her grin stiffening. From the ram's glare she could tell he's none too pleased. Why does she feel like she got caught with her hand in the cookie jar?

"Um… well, yeah. He also didn't have anywhere to go… And, well… He really helped me out when I was recovering, so…"

"You know," Desmond speaks up, still glaring. "I actually did try calling you a couple of times. Back in November. But you never answered. Figured you needed some time alone with your family."

"Like I said, I was in bad shape. It was really gross, trust me."

"Hafsa, I literally saw you hack up like two liters of someone else's blood. Nothing grosses me out anymore."

Now it's Hafsa's turn to get snippy. "Look, just drop it, okay? It had to be Solomon. It would've been dangerous for you."

The sheep realizes what she meant by 'dangerous'. When she said recovering, she didn't exactly mean from her wound.

"Ah. Sorry." He mumbles.

"…It's fine."

Carnie and herbie gaze out the window behind Hafsa's desk. The day is a typical January grey. Animals amble around the large sprawling lawns, chatting amongst themselves. The distant trees to the west tremble as gusts of wind pass by. It's a view they had long grown accustomed to. Another piece to their everyday lives. But now… why does it feel so foreign?

"It's so weird to be back." The serval blurts, still watching the view.

"Yeah. I know how you feel."

"I'm… scared. I'm scared it won't be the same. That everything is different now."

"It won't be the same. Everything is different."

"…"

"But you can handle it. You're the toughest person I know. Plus… you got me. And the rest of the student council."

The ram inches ever so closer to his taller companion. Slowly, he stretches his hand closer to hers, index finger reaching out.

Closer…

Closer…

The click of the doorknob. Desmond's hand shoots up like he touched a hot stove. In walks the now-seniors Solomon and Brian with friendly waves.

"Welcome back, team!" Hafsa greets, running up to Brian to give him a tight hug. "Ready for another year of being the best student council ever?"

"Not quite," Brian chuckles, but his expression quickly turns anxious. "We've got a little situation."

The female tilts her head in confusion, glancing up at the caracal for an explanation. They look into each other's eyes a few seconds too long for Desmond's taste.

"They're back." He says. "Outside the male carnie dorms."

Hafsa lets out an exasperated sigh. "Again?"

"It's probably best if we take care of them before we begin today's work."

"Right…"

The four animals trot out of the office, down the stairs, out of the Emzara building, and all the way to the front of the male carnivore dorms. Gathered in a troop is another big problem that the kidnapping caused. A dozen or so herbivores pace around the dormitory building holding up handmade signs. Each sign has a brightly colored slogan printed in bold handwriting.

"PREDATORS NOT WELCOME"

"KEEP NOAH'S ARC VEGAN"

"PROTECT THE LITTLE GUYS"

"WE ARE NOT FOOD"

The protestors are all herbivores of large port: rhinos, hippos, oxen, moose, giraffes, even an elephant. The towering plant eaters stomp around tirelessly, shouting "carnies go home!" in boisterous unison. Hafsa pinches her brow, already feeling a stress migraine on the horizon. She strides to the herd of protestors, who don't relent on their show despite the incoming serval.

"Guys!" She calls out in a strict voice. "I thought we talked about this!"

A white rhinoceros breaks through the crowd to loom over the student council president.

"Yeah, I thought we told you that you have no right to stop us!" He snorts. "School rules clearly state students are allowed to gather in protests as they see fit! You break this up, you're silencing the students you're supposed to serve."

"This isn't a protest, Ezekiel. This is hate speech. You can't demand that the academy actively discriminate and segregate the student body."

The larger herbivores had begun organizing these protests outside of the carnivore dorms since the first day of the academic year. They are the same students who were the only ones to vote against Hafsa in the election. The incident with Priya undeniably left the herbivore students uneasy about their carnivorous peers. After all, who knows when the next predator might rear their ugly head, maybe even inspired by their predecessor's works?

While the smaller, more vulnerable herbies might keep their mouths shut out of fear, the larger ones are more than capable of taking down a carnivore if need be. Thus, unfettered by fear, the Dissenting Animals for Vulnerable Intertrophism Disunion group, or DAVID, was formed. Among the founders, the most vocal member is the white rhinoceros Ezekiel, a junior like Hafsa.

He doesn't back down from her argument. "So you'd rather the majority of the students live in fear of their classmates? The herbivores outnumber the carnivores here, you know."

Hafsa places her hands on her hips. "This isn't a numbers game. If you have a complaint on how the academy is run, schedule a meeting with Principal House and he'll be glad to hear you out. Until then, please stop harassing your classmates."

"That rubber-necked goose always honks up an excuse about how he's busy. Up to his beak in work covering up the fact there was a killer enrolled in this school, more like."

"May I remind you I was one of the victims? It's not like I'm leaping to defend her actions. But innocent carnies shouldn't be expelled because of one bad apple."

Ezekiel jams his face close to the cat's, bumping her nose with his sturdy horn. "One bad apple ruins the bunch, Serval Hafsa. Carnies look after their own kind just the same as herbies. 'Course, you'll be expelled too once we're through, too. So if you ain't with us, you're against us. And you'll need a truckload of luck if you're against us!"

The horde of herbies behind him cheers. Hafsa suppresses the urge to claw his stupid horn to ribbons, and instead stomps off to her three friends patiently waiting in the back.

"I think it's best if a herbie talk them out of it. They won't listen to me."

"Yeah, I'll go." Desmond grumbles. "Let's get this over with."

Now his turn on the hot seat, he stands to face the impressively built rhino. "Alright, buddy, break it up before I call the campus security."

"Well, well, if it ain't Sheep Desmond." Ezekiel hums. "You know, Desmond, I voted for you last year. You got a no-nonsense way of doing things. Little guy with a big attitude. And you're a beast in the ring."

"I'm flattered. Now get lost."

"Listen, I don't know what kinda filth those carnies have been putting in your head," The rhino growls, squatting down to meet Desmond's ear. "But you gotta know we're right. You got kidnapped by one of those bloodthirsty beasts. Me and these guys, sure we ain't afraid of a little fang and claw, but animals like you… you shouldn't have to put up with them."

"I'm not putting up with them. I'm currently putting up with you, but just marginally." The ram says with a steel-melting scowl.

"Bro, don't be like that. These carnies, some of them might actually be decent people, who knows. But they've got that drive to kill, it's just in their nature, you know? They can't help it. It's not fair to them to have to hold back for our sake, and it's certainly not fair to us to have to be one empty stomach away from becoming someone's meal. Intertrophic schools are dying out, bro. Animals just work better with their own kind."

"You know. 'Bro'," Desmond says through gritted teeth. "A year ago, I would've been right there with you. I've been through some shit you wouldn't believe. Carnies wronged me, and I hated them for it. I thrived in that hatred. And if I'd have gone to herbivore-only school, I would've lived with that hatred for the rest of my damn life, not knowing any better. Noah's Arc taught me that I was an ignorant, spiteful fucking moron. Just like you. So why don't you pack up your little signs and start taking lessons?"

Ezekiel stared at the sheep with his small, dark eyes. Wordlessly, he straightened himself up and signaled for his posse to stand down. Slightly confused, they obeyed, lowering their boards.

"You can stop us from protesting," He says in a booming voice. "But you cannot stop what's about to happen. Noah's Arc is changing. Herbies can see it. Carnies can see it. Something in the air is different. And when that storm comes down on you… Brother, you're gonna wish it ended with picket signs."

He turned to his group. "Let's go."

In the herd of the protestors' dust, the four student council members stand, unable to move. Though they have no reason to believe Ezekiel…

For some reason, they know he's right.

AN: Thanks for reading! And so begins another disastrous year for Hafsa and the like. There are some ideas I am excited to explore in this junior year, so I hope you will stick around to see them.

For now, at least, you get to see my brilliant (sarcasm) acronym-making skills. Well, the members of DAVID are pretentious enough to think of such a stupid acronym.

Take it easy and stay safe.