Solitary confinement, even if it was for her own safety, had not been kind to Dawn Bellwether.

Sheep were social creatures. In many ways, even more so than rabbits. They craved the security and comfort of the flock, especially in times of hardship. They like to move together, think together, act together. Even in prison, leaving a sheep alone with nothing but their own thoughts for company was generally regarded as unnecessarily harsh.

In the beginning she had demanded to be allowed out. As time went on, demanding turned into asking, then practically begging. When the warden eventually deigned to respond, it was to inform her that freedom – like all things – was a privilege to be earned. Taking the words to heart, Bellwether did everything she could think of to be a model prisoner, keeping her cell meticulously tidy and always being polite to the guards. It wasn't easy, but after eighteen grueling months of effort the warden finally granted her request to interact with mammals other than the same half-dozen members of the prison staff.

She was given permission to participate in weekly group therapy sessions, and she didn't even try to hide her delight. She'd attended the sessions religiously, so starved for social interaction that she'd listened with rapt attention to everything her fellow inmates had to say. In doing so she'd gradually learned that savagery wasn't exclusive to predators. As time went on, she began to question many of the ideas she'd held as truth.

At her therapist's urging, she'd written letters for Judy Hopps, her fox partner, Lionheart and a few others. That hadn't been easy, either; her first drafts had come out as little more than anger-fueled rants. She'd been persistent, though, and with each new revision came a sense of catharsis and a deeper understanding of her own feelings. As the months went by, the re-written letters slowly became less angry. Finally, when they reached a point that could be called 'polite', she finally mustered up the courage to mail them.

She hadn't been very surprised when the envelopes were returned unopened, even if she had felt a little disappointed. She revised each letter and re-sent them each month, and for two and a half years they were all returned without the slightest sign that they had been opened, let alone read. Whenever she got frustrated or began to lose hope, her therapist had reminded her that forgiveness often took time. For the time being, all she could do was ask for it.

When she finally did receive a response, she wasn't surprised that it came from Lionheart. Although the former mayor had managed to avoid an overly lengthy prison term for the crimes he'd committed (being close friends with the new District Attorney was good for that sort of thing), he'd still served four years in Black Rock Penitentiary. In all likelihood, he understood her better now than he had in all the years they'd worked together.

It hadn't been the first piece of mail she'd received since she'd gone to prison, but it was the first that wasn't full of seething hatred or threats on her life. In truth, she'd almost been too scared to read it. But while the letter hadn't been particularly friendly, but it hadn't been cruel either. He'd acknowledged both her apology and the courage it took to offer it. He'd said that he was glad to see that she was making positive progress, encouraged her to keep doing well in her rehabilitation, and even finished by wishing her luck.

Eight months later, when she received her monthly letter to Judy Hopps back, she was surprised to see that it had been opened and then resealed. She found the letter inside with an orange post-it note attached.

I don't know if I can ever forgive you, but that doesn't mean I won't try. -Judith Hopps

It certainly hadn't been a warm message from an old friend, but it'd been a start. The following month, she received a similar note from Nicholas Wilde.

What she said. -NW

By the time she entered the sixth year of her thirty-five-year sentence, she'd been granted permission to work in the prison library. Originally it had only been for an hour each day and in the presence of no less than two guards. Soon she was spending much of her time there, putting her master's degree to good use, re-organizing the entire thing and even petitioning the warden for more books. Keeping the library in good order and listening to the soft chatter of other mammals nearby was the closest she'd come to happiness since she'd been imprisoned.

It was also how she met Simone Blaireau, a honey badger serving a double-life sentence for murder.

During the Nighthowler Crisis, Simone had been walking home from her job as a Snarlbucks barista when she'd been accosted by a small group of antelopes. Apparently, the mammals had been looking for a predator to beat up, and they'd thought that the honey badger's small size would make her an easy target. Unfortunately for them – and true to her species' fearsome reputation - Simone had fought back with a righteous fury. When the dust had settled, one of the antelope lay dead; another died of his injuries two days later.

Her overworked public defender had argued that it had been self-defense, pointing out that the first antelope had died with an eight-inch blade clutched in his hoof. After the dead mammal's friend's claimed that she had attacked them, though, the District Attorney that Dawn herself had appointed had pushed for homicide. In the end, her lawyer advised her to plead guilty in the hope of a lesser sentence. Unlike the antelope that had attacked her, though, the judge was familiar with her species. He'd outright said that a murderous honey badger presented an unacceptable risk to the public and had sentenced Simone to spend the rest of her days in a maximum-security penitentiary; two life sentences, one for each of the mammals she'd killed.

She'd just turned twenty-one.

Simone began working in the library a few months after Dawn had. Although the sheep was happy for the assistance, to say that Simone wasn't particularly fond of her was a massive understatement. Something the badger made perfectly clear from her first day.

"I'm glad you're here to help," Dawn had told her with a hesitant smile, hoping the two of them could start on a positive note. "It'll be nice to have some company."

"Company?" Simone had scoffed. "This job gets me out of the laundry room, so I'll play along, but I'm not here to keep you company."

"O-oh. Okay," A little disappointed, Dawn had tried again. "Well, let me show you how things work. There's this thing called the Dewey Decimal syst-"

"I know what the Dewey fucking Decimal system is, Hellwether." Simone had interrupted. "Just let me work in peace."

It wasn't the most pleasant introduction, but Simone hadn't openly threatened her life. Compared to the majority of her time in prison, Dawn was willing to call that a good start.

~o~o~o~

Nervously glancing around the bustling mess hall, Dawn searched for a place to sit.

She was still getting used to being among the prison's population. It had only been a month since she'd stopped eating all her meals alone in her cell, and although she was always happy to escape her isolation, she hadn't anticipated the social minefield she would be walking into.

Usually, she was the first in line to eat and would be able to secure a seat in one of the room's corners – preferably within reach of a guard. But that day her group therapy session had run late and by the time she'd arrived, the mess hall was practically full.

Scanning the room again, she stiffened when a scarred she-wolf gave her a nasty smile, patting the seat beside her with one paw. Shuddering slightly, Dawn began looking around in earnest. She practically sighed in relief when she spotted Simone. Trying not to look like she was rushing, she quickly made her way over. Moving into the badger's sightline, Dawn gestured to the empty seat across from her.

"Hi, Simone." Dawn cleared her throat, shuffling awkwardly when the badger didn't respond. "Could I...that is, would you mind if I sat here?"

"Knock yourself out," Simone shrugged, adding. "It's a free country, more or less."

"Thanks." Settling into her seat, she peered uncertainly at the 'food' on her tray. "Looks like the kitchen really outdid themsel-"

"I said you could sit," Simone interrupted. "Not that you could talk."

"Oh." She managed a few minutes of silence as she picked at her food. "So, I...er...I saw that they're holding softball tryouts next we-"

"Gods dammit, Hellwether!" Dropping her fork, Simone turned to glare at her. "What is it with you, anyway? Do you really need to talk that badly?"

"Maybe...yes," Dawn answered meekly. "I'm sorry. I'm just lonely."

"You're lonely?" Simone hissed. "I've been locked here, away from my friends and family, for seven years. Seven fucking years, just for defending myself, and you're lonely?!"

"I'm sorry," Dawn repeated softly. She knew that in Simone's eyes, Dawn was nothing less than the reason she'd been sent to prison at all. What could she possibly say in defense to that? "I didn't mean to..."

"To what?"

"Nothing. Nevermind."

"Right."

After another minute of tense silence, Dawn surprised herself by saying, "I'm glad I'm in prison."

"Excuse me?"

"I said I'm glad I'm in prison," she repeated, refusing to let her voice waver. "It's where I belong."

For the first time since they'd met, Simone seemed genuinely speechless. Dawn took it as an opportunity to keep going.

"I don't have any excuses. I almost wish I did," she whispered. Her mouth suddenly felt bone-dry. "I wasn't abused as a lamb, or attacked by a predator, or anything like that. I just...hated. I hated because I felt small, and because it made me feel strong. It...it made me feel righteous."

"What are yo-"

Now that she'd started, Dawn found herself unable to stop. "I kept telling myself that I was a victim. That I was being oppressed. That I was being stepped on by bigger predators. When I found mammals who felt the same way, we didn't talk to anyone who disagreed with us, feeding off each other's anger until we were convinced that we were right and everyone else was wrong. I was so stupid." Dawn looked away shamefully. As painful as it was to accept, she'd probably never fully redeem herself in the eyes of some mammals. "I don't...I try not to think like that anymore."

"Oh, how very fucking noble of you," Simone muttered.

"You know I actually said something about it to Lionheart once? Just some remark about feeling small all the time. I didn't even think he was listening, but do you know what he did the next day? He sat down and wrote the first draft of the Mammal Inclusion Initiative." Against her will, Dawn felt her eyes burn with unshed tears. "He did that because I said I felt small, and I was too blind and angry to do anything but resent him for it." She shook her head ruefully. "No wonder he stopped respecting me."

"What your point?" Simone asked. There was surprisingly little bite behind the question.

"That a mammal like me doesn't belong out there." She raised her spoon and listlessly poked at something resembling peas. "I belong in here, because as long as I'm in here, things out there can be better."

Before Simone could respond, a shadow fell over the table and Dawn felt a paw gently come to rest on her shoulder, squeezing in a way that made her want to shudder in revulsion. Risking a glance to one side, she recognized the scarred she-wolf who'd gestured to her earlier.

"What you doin' over here, little lamb?" she asked softly. "Didn't you see me?"

Dawn felt her throat tighten as a claw ran through the wool at the nape of her neck.

"It's rude to ignore an invitation, you know," the wolf continued. "Come on over. We'll get to know each other."

"I...I don't..."

"Aw, don't you wanna come pla-"

"Fuck off, Luanne," Simone interrupted, not looking away from the frightened sheep across from her.

"Excuse me?" The wolf snarled back. "How about you shut your mouth before I..."

Her threat trailed off as Simone's claws dug four long furrows in the table's surface; the honey badger still didn't deign to look up. "Fuck off, Luanne."

"...fine. She's all yours, honey bitch."

Releasing her hold on Dawn's shoulder, she stormed away, growling at anyone who tried to make eye contact.

"T-thank you," Dawn whispered once she was sure the wolf was out of earshot, her hooves still shaking a little. "I..."

"Shut up, Hellwether," Simone snapped, though not quite as fiercely as she might have before. "Eat your food."

~o~o~o~

Simone Blaireau was not Dawn Bellwether's friend; a fact that Simone herself would vehemently emphasize at the slightest hint that Bellwether – or any other mammal, for that matter - might have begun to think otherwise. As often as not, the sheep's greetings were met with little more than a grunt, if they were responded to at all. Most attempts at small talk were ignored, and any complements or friendly overtures were immediately thrown back in the sheep's face.

Regardless, Dawn was nothing if not persistent. Through repeated (and often frustrating) trial and error, she eventually learned how to coax the badger into the occasional conversation. That was how, on a not particularly remarkable evening about four months after Simone had started working in the library, they ended up talking about the world outside the prison as they sorted a pile of returned books.

Dawn did her best to stick to neutral topics and chose her words carefully. Talking to Simone was, at best, like navigating a minefield. "So, I heard someone say that they're making a new X-Mammals movie."

"Yeah. So?"

"I like the X-Mammals," she confessed. "I read a lot of comics when I was little."

Simone gave her the briefest of surprised looks, then tried to cover it with a dismissive shrug. "Wouldn't have figured."

Encouraged, Dawn continued. "It's true. I've seen all the movies they made. I mean, the ones they made before I..."

If Simone caught the hitch in her voice, she didn't show it. A brief silence followed before Simone commented. "You're better off. They really went downhill after the second prequel."

"They did?"

"So I hear."

"Did you see any of thos-" Dawn realized what she was saying but cut herself off a second too late.

Turning to glare at the sheep, Simone responded through clenched teeth. "No, Hellwether. I didn't."

"Of course not. I'm sorry."

"Yeah. So am I." They worked quietly for a few minutes, then Simone added, "My little sister saw them. She wrote me a letter. Said they sucked."

A question floated to the top of Dawn's mind, and she hesitated before asking it. "Does she...does she ever come to visit?"

She expected Simone to snap at her, but the badger just shook her head. "Mom and Dad won't let her."

"Oh."

"They said don't want Gabrielle exposed to any 'negative influences'. I assume they meant their daughter the murderer." She snorted. "They support the TSP, and they think I'm a negative influence. Fucking hypocrites."

"Oh," Dawn said again. "Er...what's the TSP?"

She actually turned to stare at the sheep incredulously. "Are you kidding me?"

Dawn winced at the badger's expression. "I...uh...I don't really keep up on current events."

"Uh-huh," Simone rolled her eyes. Placing the last few books onto the re-shelf trolley with a bit more force than necessary, Simone wheeled it away from the small desk and began returning them to their shelves. "And here I though they'd be right up your alley."

Dawn ignored the jab, following close behind. "Are they criminals? Terrorists?"

"If you're so damn curious, go read a newspaper."

"I told you, I don't really k-"

"Keep up on current events. Yeah, I heard you the first time." Simone stopped the cart with a frustrated sigh. "If I tell you, will you leave me alone?"

"Sure."

"Fine. Lemme think for a second." Leaning against one of the shelves, Simone took a few minutes to collect her thoughts. Watching her, Dawn felt a slight pang of jealously that the badger was so much better informed. There'd been a time where Dawn had an ear on every door and a hoof in every pie. Now she was cut off from practically everything outside the prison walls, albeit by choice.

As the wait grew longer, she began to suspect that Simone was stalling on purpose just to annoy her. A mean little voice began to whisper inside her, uttering hateful slurs and half formed threats aimed at the predator before her. Dawn crushed it ruthlessly before the thoughts could take root, and silently chastised herself for letting the voice speak at all.

"Alright," Simone said at last. "Here's the basics. TSP stands for Taxonomic Solidarity Party. They're a political party that showed up about three years ago and started preaching hard to the right. After you got put away, most politicians wouldn't touch a conservative policy with a ten-foot pole, so it worked pretty well for them. They built up a decent base and managed to get a few of their members elected to the city council a couple years back. They did even better at the next bi-annual election, pulling down nearly a third on the council seats."

"This is the basics?"

"I was a poli-sci major, Bellwether. You wanna hear this or not?"

"Of course," she nodded, privately cheering that Simone had called her by her real name for the first time. "Go ahead."

"Like I was saying, they're a bunch of specist pricks. They lean hard into the whole 'natural order' thing. Basically, they say it's normal for pred and prey mammals to share space, because that's how the world has always been. Can't have one without the other, right? But they can't get too close, y'know? Living in the same city is acceptable, but friends? Couples? Families? Oh no, that sort of thing isn't allowed. Apparently, mammals are only meant to socialize with their own kind."

"So, the party is all the same speci-"

"Nope."

"Oh. Then I suppose that they're all either predators or pre-"

"Nope." Simone repeated.

"So...mammals of different species are coming together out of their unified objection to the idea of mammals of different species coming together?"

"Bingo."

"That's stupid."

Despite herself, Simone let out a sharp laugh. "Yeah, pretty much. And you wanna know what's really nuts? It's looking like they might just get one of their own elected as mayor next month."

"Their party is only three years old and they're already vying for the mayor's office?"

"Ambitious fuckers, eh?"

"Very," Dawn nodded, looking away as she rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "They must have one hell of a candidate."

"I guess. I mean, the news makes him look good." The badger shrugged. "But he's with the TSP, so as far as I'm concerned Longfellow can go suck a-"

"What?!" Dawn's eyes snapped up to meet Simone's. "What did you say?!"

Simone blinked, surprised at the sheep's sudden intensity. "I...uh...I said he can go suck a..."

"Tell me that you're not talking about an elk named Mattias Longfellow."

She smirked. "I thought you didn't keep up on curr-"

"Shit!" Dawn hissed, startling the other mammal.

"What's the problem?"

"Oh...er...it's nothing."

"Uh-huh," Simone drawled, eying her skeptically. "Try again."

"It's probably nothing, I mean." Dawn hesitated. "It's been six years since I last...that is, I'm not sure if..."

"Right." Rolling her eyes slightly, Simone gestured to the library entrance. "Well, while you're figuring that out, I'm gonna go hit the little badger's room."

Walking to the door, Simone spoke briefly with the guard on duty. After a moment, the uniformed ox nodded and Simone carried on down the hall. One of the benefits of being a trustee – a prisoner who proven themselves over time to be responsible – was being granted slightly more freedom than the average inmate. Because the library was in a sealed wing of the prison, the badger was permitted to walk to the bathroom without an escort.

"Hey, Bellwether." Dawn looked over to the guard, who was standing in the doorway. "I think I'm gonna go take a leak, too. You good for two minutes?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Don't burn the place down while I'm away." Laughing, the ox disappeared in the opposite direction Simone had gone.

Gazing at the guard's now-unoccupied chair, Dawn distractedly tapped one hoof on the side of the book trolley. A few seconds later, she made a decision and rushed over to the check-out desk; specifically, to the secure phone that sat atop it.

A few months ago, she'd watched over a guard's shoulder as they made an outside call. Punching in the same sequence, she was rewarded with an external dial tone. Dialing the actual phone number from memory, she anxiously watched the door as it rang.

"ZPD Precinct One, how may I direct your call?"

As she opened her mouth to speak, she saw the shadow of someone approaching the doorway. Before she could be caught, she hung up and pushed the phone away. Moving to the nearest return pile, she acted as though she'd just been sorting books.

"Well, look at this."

Her eyes snapped back to the door in an instant. Instead of the guard, or even Simone, there were two large felines she didn't recognize. An angry-looking bobcat, and a grinning cougar with a dull piece of metal in one paw.

"Hey there, little lamb. You all by your lonesome?" The cougar's cold smile widened as the bobcat, silently blocked the exit.

"N-no..." She stammered. Even after spending more than six years in prison, Dawn felt herself begin to tremble. "The g-guard will be b-back soon..."

"Ain't no one coming back in time, little lamb."

"W-what are you...?"

"Y'know, I'd love to say it was personal. You took our lives away, and we've been itching for the chance to return the favor for a long time," the tawny cat laughed. "But I'm afraid this is just business."

Confounded, Dawn scrambled to recall whom she might've crossed that would want her dead...recently, at least. "I don't understand! Who sent you?!"

"Don't know. Don't care." Her attacker took another graceful step toward her. "But they wanted me to pass on a message; you can't fight the tide, little sheep."

Stunned, Dawn didn't even notice that she'd frozen in mid-step. "No..."

"Don't worry your little head about it. Hell, soon you won't have to worry about anything!" Shouting the last word, she lunged forward. Dawn drew a deep breath to scream for help, but the big cat's paw clamped around her throat and forcefully shoved her to the floor. The only sound she got out was a pitiful squeak when her attacker plunged a roughly sharpened steel shank into her stomach.

"...p...pl..." she rasped, the coppery taste of blood filling her mouth. "...please..."

"Would you listen to that? The little scat is begging." The other cat began to laugh as her attacker withdrew the makeshift weapon, then drove it into Dawn's body again. She didn't make a sound this time; she just gazed into her attacker's face, weeping silently as her eyes pleaded for mercy.

"Meg!"

The cougar's eyes broke with hers as she glanced over her shoulder. "What?"

The bobcat stood in the doorway, anxiously glancing down the hallway. "Someone's coming. We gotta bounce!"

Turning back, she sneered at the dying ewe. "Sorry, little lamb. Wish we had more time. Don't worry, though. I'll tuck you in before I leave."

She crossed the room purposefully, still holding Dawn by the throat. Opening a small cupboard, she stuffed Dawn inside and slammed the door shut. "Sleep tight, you little scat."

Dawn's head swam. She knew she should call out for help or try to get out, but the combination of pain and terror made it nearly impossible to think. Unable to see anything in the dark space, all she had to focus on was the sound of rushed footsteps headed out of the library. They'd almost reached the door when they were halted by a small, sharp voice. "Who're you?! What're you doing in here?"

"None of your business, pest. Get lost."

"I said, what are you doing in here?" A pause. "Where's Bellwether? What did you do to her?"

"I told you it's none of your damn business. Now move!" There was a brief scuffle followed by a yelp of pain. "Ah! You little scat!"

"What did you do?!"

"What we got paid to do. Same thing we're gonna do to you." The cougar's growl was unmistakable. "I'm gonna cut you wide open, ya stupid piece of..."

Dawn had been on the receiving end of plenty of growls since she'd been sent to prison, but the guttural snarl that cut off the cat's threat was, without question, the most vicious sound she'd ever heard. A part of her wasn't surprised when it was followed by the thump of a large mammal hitting the ground, hard.

"What the fuck?!" She heard the cougar cry over the growls and scuffling. "Shit! Get her off me, Peggy! Get her the fuck off me!"

"Fuck that, Meg! You're on your own!"

"Fucking bitch! Get...argh!...get back here! Get the fuck bac-urk!"

The silence that followed was somehow more unnerving than the struggling before it, seeming to stretch out forever. When the sound of the cupboard door being unlatched finally roused her from her stupor, a far-away part of her was terrified that someone had come to finish her off. Then the door opened to reveal...

"D-Dawn?"

It was Simone. The poor honey badger looked so distressed that Dawn's first instinct was to offer her comfort, even as the other mammal lifted her from the cupboard and back into the light. The small sheep was so relieved to see a familiar face, she didn't even register that Simone's claws were practically soaked with blood.

"Oh shit, oh shit! HELP!" Simone cried as she carefully lowered Dawn on the floor, staring helplessly at the ragged wounds in the sheep's belly. "PLEASE, SOMEONE HELP!"

"S-Simone..." Focusing on the words was almost as challenging as finding the breath to speak at all. "...t-tell them...p-pan..."

"It's gonna be okay," Simone insisted, pressing her paws over the ewe's wounds. "Help is coming. Just stay with me, okay? They're gonna get you all patched up. You'll be back to annoying me in no time. Just keep your damn eyes open!"

"Simone...you need to...tell them..." She broke down coughing and her vision began to grow hazy. Gripping the badger's arm with what little strength she had left; Dawn forced the word out. "...p-pangea..."

"What the...I don't know what that means, but you need to keep your eyes open," Simone stammered, panic beginning to creep into her voice as Dawn felt her eyelids getting heavier. "No. NO! Gods dammit, you stupid fucking sheep! Open your fucking eyes! Stay awake!"

As the sound of Simone's voice faded, the last thing Dawn Bellwether thought was how lucky she was. Despite the terrible sins she had committed, all the hatred she'd sewn in her life, the gods had granted her one last kindness.

Even if she had to die, she wouldn't have to die alone.

~o~o~o~

END PART 4