The first night of Porsha's "staycation", as her new daddy put it in a goodnight text, there was a thunderstorm. She clung desperately to a pillow, tried to shut her eyes and shut them tight.

But it was no use. The rumbling in the sky sounded like the world—her world—was being ripped at the seams. Porsha got out of bed and trudged into Nana's room, dark circles under her eyes, a zombie-like sag in her usually perfect posture. Every part of her body ached and pained, and she felt like there was a gaping hole in her heart. Porsha was utterly numb. The only thing that affected her was the cataclysmic crackle lightning.

As if she could sense Porsha through her purple eye mask, Nana stood up and immediately patted a spot. "Come, my dear girl. You can stay with me tonight."

The sight of Porsha almost frightened Nana. It was only one small glance, her eye mask lifted up to her left eye. The poor wolf girl was practically a skeleton, a shell of the once vibrant, happy young lady she cared for with all her heart. What could she do to help? Part of her wished Melody was there.

And then, another booming roar of thunder. Porsha whimpered and shook, curled up in a ball and cuddling her own tail, like a child in the midst of a bad dream. That's what she was: a scared little pup. The black sheep hated to think just how bad things were with Jimmy. 'That cold-hearted cur!' thought Nana. She vowed, right then and there, to get the best lawyer and make sure he would never hurt anyone—his associates, his daughter, any person who has the misfortune of even looking at him—ever again.

In her anger, Nana had punched a pillow a little harder than she intended. Porsha jumped, startled. The black sheep should've noticed. She'd kick herself later, but that wasn't important. Right now, she had to take care of Porsha, make sure she could sleep through the night. And the matron of the New Moon Theater had the perfect remedy: a lullaby. She began to sing softly, voice still as lilting and powerful as it was in her glory days:

"Once there was a way

To get back homeward

Once there was a way

To get back home

Sleep, pretty darling

Do not cry

And I will sing a lullaby…"

A sense of contentment washed over the whimpering wolf girl. Her body laxed, and her worries were washed away by a sea of sweet sound. She quieted in a few moments, asleep, the rise and fall of her chest slow and steady. Nana kissed her on the forehead and wished her sweet dreams. And yet, the rage she had felt still seared in her heart like a calm, but scorching flame. Nana gently got out of bed and opened the French doors to her balcony, lilac nightgown billowing at the behest of the night air.

"Oh, Melody," Nana looked up into the starry sky, whispering, "I wish you were here. Your daughter needs so much. And she'll be facing him in court. And he knows her all too well. I implore you, guide her and give her the strength and courage and love she needs to fight. To be free. Please…"

Only a single stray tear managed to escape Nana's eye before she returned to bed.

Beams of sunlight danced through the bedroom curtains that next morning. Porsha awoke and stretched, back popping as she sat up and lengthened her spine. She should've been up, ready to face the day. She had to be strong. The trial was approaching—two and a half months away now. But, instead, her head hurt and she felt hot and cold at the same time. And her throat felt sore, like nails jabbing inside her esophegous.

The chains were weighing her down again, and she slinked down, into the bed and the blankets as if it were a tarpit that practically swallowed her. Porsha pulled the blankets up to her chin and clung to a pillow in a deathgrip of a hug. As if on cue, Nana sauntered in with a warm cup of chamomile tea and a nice, hot breakfast—a "Fry-Up", Nana called it. A "traditional breakfast from England": bacon, two poached eggs, fried tomatoes, beans, buttered toast, bacon, and sausage. The wolf's stomach growled. But she couldn't accept it. She was too much of a burden.

"You didn't have to—" Nana cut her off with a wave of her cloven hand. She smiled cheekily.

"My girl," Nana spoke with a voice as sweet as a lilac and firm as steel, "you need proper rest and food. I won't hear a single no from you. Alright?"

Porsha nodded slowly, frowning and quick with a habitual "I'm sorry". She thought the old sheep was scolding her. Nana was quick to reassure her that that was not the case. The breakfast was the best meal she'd ever had! Her old daddy—Buster was, as of their goodbye, her "new daddy"—only really fed her smoothies and not much else. "I don't want a daughter who's fat and ugly" was one of the many undercutting comments that Jimmy would tell her almost on a daily basis. And as she ate slowly, the 18 year-old wolf girl started to realize just how much her old daddy did that. And other stuff. Maybe, Porsha surmised, deflating, she was just really good at blocking out those things. Because she loved her old daddy. She had no choice. She never had a choice. Not until now.

"Excuse me," a new voice said, footsteps packet briskly down the hall to Porsha's room, "is there anything I can do for you, Miss Noodleman?"

Porsha was stunned when she saw to whom that voice belonged. He was a lanky, male golden retriever with kind, emerald eyes who looked to be her age. His voice was so gentle and seemed to radiate with sincerity. He was dressed in nothing more than a tank top and swimsuit and sandals. The wolf girl couldn't take her eyes off him. Especially when they locked eyes, just for a moment, and he smiled at her. In a way no one had ever smiled at her before! Her tail thumped against the bed board, wagging—something Nana hadn't seen for quite a while. There was something there. The old sheep could sense it. There was something there. And it was good for Porsha. A first step? she thought. Hopefully.

"I brought…" the golden, Balthazar, looking at the canine girl with wide eyes "…s-some things for…m-miss Crystal."

Alarm bells sounded off in the old sheep's mind. The worst possible scenario also flashed in her mind. Nana began to push Balthazar hastily out the door and muttered something to the effect of "Well, you'd best be leaving now and finishing your other work around the—"

"But wait!" they both said at the same time, and both of them blushed. She noticed a box in the golden's hand and asked, "Uh, what's that?"

"Oh!" Balthazar seemed surprised by her question. Shaking like a leaf, he said shyly, "J-Just some cupcakes. I make them myself. I love to bake. And I thought you'd like one?" He looked at Nana, as if to say: 'Is this okay?' The black sheep gave an approving, if very stern, nod.

"I-I…have six flavors. Although," he said, opening the box as he approached Porsha's bedside, "I'm pretty partial to the lemon meringue flavor, myself."

Porsha felt her mouth water—and her heart skipped a beat.

But her ears fell flat.

"No, I shouldn't—"

"No," Balthazar took her hand for a moment, as if on instinct, eyes gleaming with kindness, "it's okay. You can have whatever you like—uh, whatever flavor you'd like."

She picked the one that the male canine had recommended. The lemon meringue cupcake. Porsha reached out, slowly and daintily, her movement precise and ladylike. Just like she'd been taught to by Jimmy. One smack of the ruler at a time. But Balthazar gave her an inviting "Go ahead". She brought it to her lips, and took a bite.

And then, she devoured it. It was the sweetest, most delicious, most amazing thing she ever tasted! Yellow frosting stained her upper lip, and Balthazar couldn't help but chuckle. He brought her a napkin and asked, smiling, "I'm guessing you liked it?"

"It's amazing! It's my first cupcake ever!" the wolf exclaimed. At that, the young canine and the old sheep exchanged a small, subtle glance. They didn't need to say anything. Both of them knew. That cupcake was more than just a sweet treat to Porsha, more than just something to cheer her up. It was a treasure that she needed. Desperately.

Nana could see something. There was a look in the eyes of the young golden retriever. She wondered, as she rose and exchanged one last glance as the two began to talk and bond a bit. The smallest upward quirk of her lip could be seen. Just barely. She left the room without a word.

Nana stopped for a moment in the hallway. Her ears perked up the sound of the two laughing—of Porsha laughing. She hadn't heard the sweet sound in weeks.

—

Balthazar and her seemed to be hitting off as time passed, as he often came up to visit Porsha, always ready with some homemade treat for her delight. As members of the troupe came to visit the wolf girl, all of them took note of how the two seemed to really connect. Even the tough-as-nails Nooshy, who thought the golden retriever might just be "wanting to get into Porsha's panties" was impressed at how he genuinely seemed to care for Porsha. Buster put it best to Nana after his visit: "That kid is better than any medicine." Although, none of them seemed to grasp what the old, black sheep did. There was something there, something beyond just mere care or friendship. Something that Nana knew all too well.

One afternoon, whilst Porsha was watching some TV, Balthazar came. Her tail wagged and she greeted him excitedly, as usual, but found that he had no baked goods for her this time.

"Yeah, sorry I don't have any cupcakes or anything. I've been dealing with some…things," Balthazar said, an uncharacteristic sorrow in his voice. But he quickly put on a smile and unveiled some "presents": some DVDs of his favorite Disney movies.

"I thought we could have a nice movie marathon together. I-If you want?" asked the male canine shyly.

"That'd be so fun! I love vintage stuff!" Porsha exclaimed. Her ears flattened and she added softly, "Although, I've never actually seen any."

"Disney movies?"

"…Movies. My dad—my old daddy thought they were distractions. Like friends or stuff like that."

Balthazar felt his heart shatter. How could anyone hurt their own kid like that? Then again, given that his dad was a chronic boozer, he could understand better than most. That didn't make him feel any less bad for Porsha, though. The golden retriever was determined, however, to keep smiling. For her. And, of course, Balthazar said, they had to start off their marathon with a classic (and one of his personal favorites): "Robin Hood".

The movie was like nothing the wolf had ever seen before. It was magical! Wearily, she wondered if this was what friendship was like. She had seen it with Johnny and Meena and Ash. Nooshy and Ryan. Even Johnny's uncle, Barry, had started a romantic relationship with Sasha, a cheetah who worked for her old dad as a stunt assistant for Out Of This World. Mr. Moon had hired her after Jimmy was arrested and convicted, apparently.

Would she ever have that? Could she? Porsha wondered to herself. In a way, she hoped she could. In another way, she hated them for having something she couldn't seem to get. She felt, deep down, all of them—even the golden retriever who always seemed to be there—would hate her and leave her. Just like Melody did, like her father had told her all her life.

Before her worries could be confirmed, however, a scene in the movie started. It was quiet, and this song started playing: "Love". Her ears perked. There was something in that repeated lyric, paired with that soothing melody: Life is brief, but when it's gone…Love goes on and on…

It entranced her. And she heard Balthazar humming along softly, as if he'd heard this song before. …He did grow up with it, after all. Unlike her. She imagined him as a pup, cuddled up with his parents, chewing on popcorn or something.

Porsha felt compelled to ask as she watched the scene unfold. It was a question more for herself than for him or anyone: "Is that…what love is?"

Balathazar's breath hitched. "Uhh…I-I suppose so. It could be. Y-Yeah…"

The wolf girl felt like there were butterflies in her stomach. She looked at her newfound friend. Her hand moved almost on its own, gently squeezed his, thumb brushing his knuckle, the touch as gentle as a rose petal.

"You…okay?" he asked nervously, moving his hand away.

"Could I have that with you?"

Balthazar felt a lump form in his throat. Was she asking him…? "…H-Have what?" choked out the golden, eyes wide.

"L…Love."

The canine trembled, shaking, frozen in fear. Porsha gripped the sheets, whimpering, her eyes glinting with impending tears.

He bolted, leaving only the movie to play and Porsha's heart to break.

She could only cling to her pillow. That was the only comfort she had now.