Click.

Clack.

Click.

Clack.

Hafsa's eyes dart side to side as the small metallic balls on either end of the Newton's Cradle rise and fall with each speedy swing. With each click and clack, the momentum weakens; the outermost spheres lose their once wide arc of movement until, pathetically, they jitter to a stop, joining their stagnant middle brothers. Not bothering to straighten herself up from her hunched over pose, she maneuvers her hand to grab the leftmost sphere to start the cycle of clacking anew. She raises the ball to reach the height of its axis and releases it.

"Hafsa, can you cut that out? That noise is driving me insane." Molly's annoyed voice cuts through the rhythmic clacking. "You've been playing with that thing for like half an hour."

"Sorry." The serval pinches one of the spheres mid-flight, ending the pendulum beat.

"What are you, high off catnip?" Molly raises a brow as she runs a fine tooth comb over her leg, gathering a hamster's worth of fur in one stroke. "Rare to see you this mopey."

"Yeah, I guess I'm just a little tired." The taller feline finally lifts her torso off of the cramped desk in a languid stretch.

Her Pallas cat roommate tosses a rolled up hairball at the back of her head. "Buck up. This dorm is only big enough for one depressed cat."

Hafsa gives a half-hearted chuckle. Unfortunately for Molly, she'll have to deal with another depressed cat. Rather, an anxious one. Although she's still grateful for being in Noah's Arc, still grateful for being able to see her friends every day, still grateful for the opportunities this kind of education can provide… Life at the academy has been wearing her down not two weeks into the new academic year.

As if her regular schoolwork isn't taxing enough (what with the heightened difficulty and quantity of homework now that she's a junior), but added with the workload of student council duties thanks to the nonstop barrage of upcoming events and all of the hassle DAVID has been giving them, she's not had a moment to breathe since the start of class. As recalcitrant as Ezekiel is, he did have a point when he said that Noah's Arc is changing. There is an undeniable stench that pervades the air of the campus. Once, it was a barely noticeable waft, something no one even mentioned aloud. But now, it holds the atmosphere of the academy hostage with tension.

The smell of fear.

Herbivore and carnivore distrust each other. While this may have always been true on a subconscious level, now the pressure is palpable. While the animals may not know the true story of Priya's attacks, they do know that she, a seemingly innocent carnivore, killed two classmates and abducted two others. All within the walls of the unreachable Noah's Arc. If one carnivore can be corrupted, all of them can be.

DAVID grows in members with each day. They had started out with only a handful of bulky herbivores, but every time Hafsa breaks up their rioting, their numbers gets bigger. Even a couple of smaller herbivores, like camels and horses, joined their ranks. The serval has no idea how to handle that. But at least she knows one thing…

She can never allow Noah's Arc to become segregated.

A buzz from her smartphone snaps her out of her introspection. She checks the lit up screen to see an email notification. It's from Principal House. She hasn't heard from him in a while; not surprising given how bogged down he must be handling this mess. The email title reads "Meeting Tomorrow Morning". Curious, she opens the mail.

"Dear Serval Hafsa,

I hope all is well. I have no doubt you have been holding down the fort well as your second term as student council president. Tomorrow morning at 7am, please come see me in my office. I have a special job to assign you.

Kind regards,

Principal Goose House"

'A special job'…? Hafsa can't say she's looking forward to it.

Principal House's office presides on the floor above the student council. Hafsa is unaccostumed to entering the Emzara building so early in the morning, given how she only goes there in the evenings. She knocks on the principal's rich dark door and waits for his "come in" before entering. The goose greets her with a polite nod of the head seated behind his desk. It's clear to her that he's seen better days, if the bags below his beady eyes are any indication.

"Ah, good morning, Hafsa." He honks. "Sorry to have called you in so early."

"It's no issue, sir. I wake up at six every day."

"How responsible." The goose praises. "Please, take a seat."

Hafsa obliges. The principal clears some stacks of paper out of the way so that the two can match gazes.

"Let me assure you firsthand, you're not in trouble." He starts. "I'm simply in need of your assistance. Rather, I have a task only you specifically can fulfill."

"Well, I'm all ears."

"You see, we've received a transfer student who's entering your grade. And I thought it would be appropriate if the student council president were to give him a tour of the academy, to truly make him feel welcome and settled in."

Oh. The pit of anxiety in the serval's stomach vanishes instantly. Just showing a new student around? That's trivial! Why would the principal waste his time to personally ask her this?

"I'd be delighted to, sir…" Hafsa smiles awkwardly. "Is… there anything else I should know?"

"Erm…" Principal House tugs on his collar. "I suppose there is one crucial detail. This young lad we're receiving… he… you see…"

He stretches his hose-like neck all the way across the desk, positioning his beak close to the serval's ears.

"He is a carnivore… who has recently been released from a juvenile detention center."

Oh.

Oh, this is bad.

"A juvenile detention center?" Hafsa repeats, incredulous. "You admitted a carnie fresh out of juvie?"

"Well, it's not like I accepted him specifically…" House protests. "You see, last semester, Noah's Arc made a deal with local government to accept students from youth detention centers if they pass certain criteria. Entrance exams, good behavior clears, the like… The board of directors thought it would send a nice message about equal opportunity; we are known to be a progressive school, after all… One big publicity stunt, if you ask me…" He mutters that last part under his breath.

"Irregardless, this young lad fit the bill. Passed the entrance exam with flying colors. So after a few delays, he's arrived today. Seeing as you are the student council president, as well as a fellow carnivore, I thought it was best you be the first example of a model student he sees. I was even informed he is a feline. Surely, he will… relate with you better."

The serval remains fixed on House, face tensed. "J-just for posterity… do you know why this person was in juvie in the first place?"

A hard, small lump travels down the goose's neck. "Attempted predation."

It takes every fiber of Hafsa's being to not mutter a 'for fuck's sake'.

"A-are you sure this person should really be allowed in the academy? Especially now?" She asks with a trembling voice.

"The school is contractually obligated to grant him admission. I couldn't turn him away even if I wanted to…" The goose sighs. "Unless, or rather, until he behaves in a way that warrants expulsion, we are powerless on the matter. So it's best if we trust the 'good behavior' guarantee the center approved, and hope he fits in. So, you'll… help me out right? Keep him out of trouble?"

Despite the panicked hopefulness of the principal's tone, Hafsa feels as though a tree fell on her head. A new student with such a highly problematic history is sure to cause even more trouble for her, trouble she couldn't bear to handle. But powerless to express herself, all she can muster is a weary sigh.

"I'll do my best, sir."

Following Principal House's orders, Hafsa waits in front of the Animal Linguistics classroom. Checking her phone, she sees that first period begins in fifteen minutes. The new mystery student is supposed to go to his first period here. Coincidentally (in reality, due to a certain water fowl), Hafsa's first period class is also Animal Linguistics. She silently mourns the fact that Desmond has Biology instead, meaning she will have to deal with this criminal by herself.

No, no. She mentally chides herself. It's for the best Desmond isn't here. For his safety.

She had planned to make his acquaintance before class started, and in turn help him introduce himself to the class, then later show him around during lunch, but the transfer student is nowhere in sight.

Fifteen minutes left.

Ten minutes.

Five minutes.

Three minutes.

One minute.

The screeching bell buzzes above her, signaling the start of the period. Unbelievable. He's skipping his first class! Actually, it's completely believable. Of course a carnie fresh out of juvie plays hooky on his first day. Hafsa dreads the scolding she will have give him once she gets her hands on him.

She takes her seat by the front row and whips out her notebook and pencil case. The surrounding animals do the same, until the class is perfectly prepared for the lecture. The Animal Linguistics teacher, a warthog named Mrs. Figaro, trots up to the whiteboard and begins jotting down notes.

"Good morning, guys, today we're continuing our analysis of the role feather color plays in communication…"

As the class progresses, Hafsa soon forgets the troublesome transfer student. She focuses on taking the diligent notes she is famous for as Mrs. Figaro continues her speech. "Interestingly enough, even the specific sound that fluttering feathers make is also a known form of avian communication. Ask any feathered companion you know, they will mostly likely know the difference between the sound of a seagull flying and an eagle—"

The classroom door slams open, cutting off the warthog in uproarious manner.

A panther stands outside the classroom, hunched over with a massive hand firmly resting on the freshly slammed door. His fur is disheveled, much like his clothes (a pink polo shirt and faded jeans), and his chest heaves with every pant he makes. The rest of the class freezes, simply staring at the dark feline catch his breath. Not even the teacher dares to scold his interruption.

Eventually, the panther composes himself enough to stop leaning against the door.

"Uh… where should I sit?" He asks in a gravelly voice.

Mrs. Figaro takes a few moments before realizing he was addressing her. With a jolt and a trembling finger, she points to an available seat in the back of the class.

"Cool." He enters the room, now towering over the petrified warthog. "Should I like… introduce myself or something?"

Mrs. Figaro nods.

"Uh, okay." He turns to face the class, who still have their jaws on the floor. "Hi. My name's Panther Toma. I'm new here, I guess. So uh… yeah."

Hafsa, whose desk is right in front of him, takes a better look at the beast. The panther is massive, even taller than Priya, and many times bulkier. His polo shirt practically bursts at the seams trying to contain his muscles. Atop his wide-set head is a tuft of fur, as wild as his pale yellow eyes, that covers most of his forehead. But there are two features that really grab her attention:

The claw marks that slash his left eye.

And the thick nylon shock collar that encircles his neck.

That's as juvie as it gets.

After Toma traipses to his seat (bumping into several desks along the way), Mrs. Figaro very hesitantly resumes her lecture. The momentum never recovers, and by the time the bell rings, she had mostly given up on teaching anything. Hafsa's classmates practically sprint out the door, some sneaking final glances at the odd transfer student. As much as Hafsa herself would love to run far away from that ridiculously dangerous-looking guy, she knows she has an obligation to the principal.

And god damn it all, she is gonna play this right. She is going to be so goddamn charming that this stupid juvenile delinquent will have no choice but to be the most well-behaved student in all of Noah's Arc.

The serval approaches the panther delicately, the latter already packed up but not moving. Is he… waiting for something?

"Hey!" Hafsa greets with a radiance rivalling the July sun. "Toma, right? It's really nice to meet you!"

Toma looks down at her with intense eyes. "Oh, uh, yeah."

Not the reception she wanted, but okay.

"My name is Serval Hafsa! I'm actually the student council president, so I wanna give you the official 'Welcome to Noah's Arc' welcome. We really hope you enjoy it here!"

To this, the panther shows interest. "Oh, you're the president. They told me you'd help me out."

"Of course, I'm here to help with whatever you may need!" Hafsa chirps in a saccharine tone. "Just ask anyone, if there's ever any issue, big or small, I'm here to take care of it. Student council guarantee!"

"Yeah, okay." He mumbles. "I actually could use your help getting to my next class… Art class…"

"Sure, the art room is in room 105, that's on the first floor, last door to your right. You can't miss it!" She flashes a smile that could make any male want to buy a ring for her. "The class numbers should be written on your schedule. Did you... get a schedule?"

"I got the schedule…" He tilts his head, as if unsure of how to proceed. "But, uh… I kinda need some help getting there. You get it."

Hafsa really doesn't get it. He looks perfectly able-bodied to her. That is until he run his index finger under his nose.

And then she realizes.

His whiskers are gone.

It might not be obvious to some animals, but every feline knows that missing whiskers are disastrous. Whiskers are sensory hairs that help cats with navigation; they're essential for a cat's sense of balance and measuring spacial distance. Without them, even the most agile of felines loses their depth perception and coordination. They stumble and trip, bump into things constantly, and can't navigate to save their life. Not even the most meticulous feline, such as Hafsa, would ever trim their whiskers, let alone shave them clean off.

"You get it, right?" He gives her a knowing look.

She nods. "I'll take you there."

The odd duo of cats begin their journey to the first floor. Hafsa wonders how the panther managed to climb up three flights of stairs to reach the Animal Linguistics classroom in the first place given his condition. Toma sticks close to the wall, running his hand along its surface, trying his best to avoid the bulletin boards, light switches and fire extinguishers that obstruct the gliding of his hand.

"So um…" His husky voice speaks up. "Sorry for being late. I, uh… got lost."

"It's fine, really!" Hafsa reassures him. "I'll see to it that you get a buddy who can help you get to wherever you need. We have a really good buddy system here, though it's mostly for very small animals like mice." She realizes too late that maybe he could take that as an insult to his pride, but he gives a relieved smile.

"That's cool. If I'm not imposing."

"Not at all! Later, we can go to the student council office, take a look at your schedule, and work something out."

"For sure."

A small awkward silence.

"They, uh, shaved them." Toma starts abruptly. "The juvie guys. When you get there, they shave them off. When they start to grow back, they shave them again. It's like a handicap 'n stuff. So we can't attack other animals. They even shave them on the last day."

"I— um—"

"So you don't gotta wonder about it. That's why they're cut off."

"Oh, o-okay."

"You know about my situation, right? Where I was before this? They told you, yeah?"

"Y-yeah."

"Okay, cool. Would've been super embarrassing if you didn't."

Toma chuckles. Despite his terrifying appearance, his laugh is almost boyish, and suddenly, Hafsa can't help but laugh too. After carefully escorting Toma down two flights of stairs (the panther cautiously gripped both hands on the railing and took shaky steps one at a time) she guides her wobbly dark classmate to the art room, where class has already started. Hafsa explains the situation to the hedgehog teachers who absolves Toma's tardiness and he lurches inside to the bewilderment of his peers.

"I'll pick you up after class to take you to your next one. Then I can show you around during lunch, okay?" She asks with a grin.

The male responds with a meek smile of his own. "Sure. Thanks."

The unusual day proceeds just as Hafsa promised. Guiding an animal around the campus nearly twice her size is an odd feeling but it's one she acclimates to. She learns Toma is an interesting fellow, very much unlike her initial expectations. Instead of a pugnacious delinquent one would imagine fresh out of juvie, the panther seems perfectly normal. Unskilled at talking— even awkward— disastrously clumsy, and a little dense, but normal.

During lunch recess, they stroll along the paved paths that contour the grassy lawns of the academy. Unfortunately, the lack of walls or railings in the open space forces Toma to grab onto Hafsa's arm for balance and to avoid wandering off. The student council president is a physically capable animal, but even she struggles with keeping her bulky companion stable. But the physical toll is nothing compared to the embarrassment of having a male cling on to her in public; something she knows will sprout a series of unfortunate rumors to add to her list.

"Sorry." Toma says when he teeters in front of her, prompting her to reposition him back to her side. "It gets worse when I'm nervous."

"It's fine, take your time." She shrugs off his apology. "Everyone gets nervous on the first day."

She stops the tour to point out the gated plot of land across the lawn where a couple of students run around on. "That's the field. When the weather is good, we like to do PE classes over there. Plus, it's even got bleachers for outside sports games. Do you like watching sports?"

"I used to like swimming… It's been a while since I watched anything, though."

"Shame Noah's Arc doesn't have a pool. Our campus is big, but not that big."

"What are they playing?" Toma asks, squinting to make out the distant figures on the field.

"Hm, probably basketball. The court is free to use during recesses. I… assume you won't be having PE classes?" The serval asks with a wince.

"Yeah. Even if I had my whiskers, I couldn't. 'Cuz of this." He points to the collar on his neck.

"That's a…"

The panther looks away. "It senses when my heart rate goes up. If it gets too high… It zaps me."

"…Oh."

"…So no sports for me."

"No sports for you."

Although Toma brushes off the tense mood with a calm snicker, Hafsa can't help but hesitate for a moment before taking his arm. He was convicted of attempted predation. That shock collar is proof of that.

No matter how friendly he is now…

There may be a day where he won't be.

AN: Thank you for reading! That was the last chapter I had stockpiled so no more daily updates.

It's always fun to introduce a new character. I apologize for the surplus of feline characters, this is just sort of how it happened. In my defense, panthers are cool. I look forward to writing more about Toma and explore his personality.

Take it easy and stay safe.