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Chapter Text

In this place, every day was much like the one before. He woke up to a migraine like a nailfile rasping across the inside of his skull and slogged to the showers through the tarpit of his drugged muscles. Tasteless food, remedial lessons, counseling sessions where he still compulsively left half his thoughts unsaid. He and the boys, sullen and sharp-fanged, were put to work in the gardens or the laundry room or, he preferred, in the cafeteria, where he was able to smell the ingredients wafting from the pots and think of better times. His pills came with the setting sun and as he slept they would do their work, gallop up to his brain where a fresh headache would strike and start it all over again. But his days were still better than his nights, because of the dreams.

It always found him, then. He would be in the drama club’s rehearsal room, or backstage with its scattered horde of props and crates, or in the cafeteria or on the grounds or even in one of the rooms here at the reformatory, these linoleum-plated polygons reeking of disinfectant. There’d be a taste in his mouth, slimy and coppery, that wouldn’t go away no matter how much he swallowed. And though he would be acting normally at first – chatting with his classmates, struggling with a boxful of speaker equipment, lying on his side in this featureless cell and trying to find the sleep that already encased him – eventually he’d see it. A fuzzed white shape, curled on the floor like a dropped rag. The world would fall away then, be reduced to him and this shape like they were illuminated by two spotlights on a darkened stage, and he’d recognize its curvature, this scent, this taste. There was nothing he could do. He had to keep his jaw shut, stay there with the shape until his migraine thundered him awake, because his mouth was full of blood.

*             *             *

The first thing Riz noticed about the office was how drab it looked, practically indistinguishable from the rest of the reformatory; it was like the inside of this building digested color. Aside from the mahogany desk and the dull bronze of the picture frames on the walls, everything was in shades of grey. This included its occupant, a Javan rhino seated at the desk and browsing through papers with hands like slabs of granite. Riz hadn’t seen many herbivores who matched his size, but this one looked like he could bench-press him with minimal effort. His eyes flicked up to Riz before he returned to reading.

“Riz, correct?” he rumbled. “I’m Superintendent Daxon. Take a seat. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

The only other chair was armless and maybe half as big as it needed to be for someone Riz’s size. He settled into it carefully, breath whistling through his muzzle.

He’d been plucked out of the cafeteria by a pair of guards who’d said that the Superintendent wanted to speak with him. Asking why had yielded no answers, so Riz had shut up, because asking again or louder would just have them make a note of his desperation, something to hold against him later. Riz understood the value of staying quiet. So he remained there, staring forward, until the rhino’s gaze met his once more.

“You’ve been with us since January of last year, is that right?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Sixteen months, then. Give or take.”

“Yes.” It was early April, the heady taste of spring in the air. The meagre gardens that he and the other boys here were given to plant had started to bloom. Daxon referred to the papers again and spoke in the bored voice of someone reading off an instruction manual.

“You pled guilty to a Class 3 devouring. That’s the kind that results in ‘death or severe and irrecoverable reduction in quality of life’ for the victim, by the way.” He flipped a sheet over. “Upon committing the act, instead of turning yourself in, you kept quiet for the better part of a year. And when one of your classmates tried to investigate the matter himself, you repeatedly assaulted him with probable intent to kill. Even abducted another classmate to provoke him further.” His voice was bone dry. “You certainly kept yourself busy.”

Riz gripped his knees and said nothing. Daxon’s accusations were like nails being pounded through him. He’d somehow avoided further charges of attempted murder for what he’d done to Legosi, hence the emphasis on “probable attempt to kill” – Legosi himself must have tried to cover for him during the interrogation – but the rest of it was still unvarnished truth.

“I assume you’ve heard of what occurred in the city late last year,” said Daxon, tucking the papers into a folder. “The terrorist attacks.”

“Some of it,” said Riz. During the rainy season, the city had been rocked by a series of bombings orchestrated by some extremist group operating out of the black market. Its crescendo had consisted of said group’s members going into the upscale part of town and suicide-bombing it to pieces, gutting buildings, killing scores of animals. The black market and their society as a whole had survived the disaster, but everyone had been rocked back on their heels by that night. Even in here, Riz had noticed a sharp increase of tension among the guards.

Daxon folded his hands on the desk and stared Riz down, his eyes flanking his stubby horn.

“A lot of civil-rights groups have been yapping about that whole mess,” he said. “Pointing fingers. Demanding reform. In response, the parole boards in places like these have been going over the records of juvenile predatorial offenders, to see if they’d be eligible for early release. Your name came up.”

Riz blinked. He must have spaced out for a moment, or something. Heard him incorrectly.

“Under ordinary circumstances you’d be here until you turned twenty, but after the board’s review, you’re now eligible for release on probation, which comes with a long list of conditions,” Daxon went on. “All the usual restrictions for predatorial offenders apply, on employment and marriage licenses and so on, and you’re barred from entering public spaces intended for herbivores as well as, obviously, your old school. On top of that, you’re expected to find work or full-time education within two months. Maintain your drug regimen. Keep a diary to record your daily schedule. You’ll be assigned a counselor and required to check in with them once a week – miss one appointment and we fit you with a tracking bracelet, miss two and parole is revoked. We’ll also provide an industrial-grade muzzle, not too different from the one you’re sporting now.” He tapped his own snout. “Wearing it isn’t mandatory but it’s recommended in public, especially around herbivores. If there’s even an incident near you and the police have reason to think you were involved, it could be treated as a full case of predatorial assault. And if you wind up back here, it won’t just be to serve out your original sentence. You’ll stay until you’re no longer a juvenile and then get marched right into federal prison.” He tilted his head. “Any questions?”

Riz finally got his mouth working again.

“Why me?” he asked.

Daxon snorted. “Glad I’m not the only one asking that.”

The rhino reached for another folder, flipped it open. Riz saw his lip curl with distaste as he skimmed its contents.

“You’re one of the more severe offenders we have in here, but the board members noted a lot of what they called ‘discrepancies’ in your record. The two classmates of yours that were brought in the night of your arrest asked the police to go easy on you, for starters. Results from your counseling sessions and class lessons were positive. General good behavior. And then there were your visitation records. Last year you started getting regular checkups from the same herbivore that you kidnapped, right?”

“His name’s Pina,” Riz said distantly.

“So it is. Not usual for an herbivore to request in-person visits with a large carnivore offender, especially one that had attacked him personally. Eventually we pulled him aside and questioned him about why he kept stopping by. In so many words, he seemed to believe your punishment was unnecessarily strict, which the board took into account.” Daxon read what was presumably the transcript of this conversation, and his face puckered in a way Riz found all too familiar. “Mouthy little shit, isn’t he?”

Riz didn’t comment on that.

“Anyway, that’s the summary.” Daxon withdrew one last folder from the stacks crowding his desk. “Normally the board themselves would be interviewing you over this, but we’re all stretched so thin right now that it’s been left to me. If you think the probationary measures are too much, you can finish out the rest of your sentence here. Otherwise, we’ll contact your mother and release you after a few days, when the paperwork goes through. Or do you want time to think it over?”

Riz did think about it. His mother had only visited him a few times since his incarceration, and not the way Pina had; they’d spoken to each other across phone receivers, separated by reinforced glass. Her questions about his well-being had been blunt and affectless. It had been like talking to a locked iron gate. He had a feeling his homecoming wouldn’t be welcome news, and the thought of trying to find work on top of his own lodgings made his guts knot up.

But in here were the headaches, and the dreams, and the way no one ever really met each other’s eye, and disinfectant reek like stinging insects in his nose. The gnawing claustrophobia. The sensation of the world passing him by like a ship from which he’d fallen overboard, fading to an inscrutable speck. He remembered Pina grumbling in his perpetually sarcastic way to get out posthaste, so they’d have a chance to see each other in broad daylight.

He said, “I’d like to go home, please.”

Daxon grunted, flipped open the folder and turned it around to face Riz. He set a pen beside the documents.

“Fill these out here,” he said.

Riz reached out to take the pen, and then Daxon seized his wrist and twisted his arm and pulled him across the desk, so that the splay of paperwork went flying like frightened birds; the rhino’s other hand clamped around Riz’s neck before he could make a sound and then choked the voice out of him. His eyes were dark and cold as nailheads.

“Sixteen months for murder. Good fucking deal, huh?” Daxon let him go and he staggered back into the chair, gasping. “Sign the papers and get out of my sight.”

*             *             *

The Cherryton Drama Club’s rehearsal room, with its charming diorama of a stage, brooded in the afternoon light. Its members were scattered about in rough clusters like usual, but up on the stage itself was Kai, a clipboard under one arm, tapping his foot like a vaudeville actor who’d forgotten his script. There was a persistent twitch somewhere around his right eye.

“Screw this,” he said. “Quiet down, everyone! As Stage Manager, I’m officially going ahead without our incredible disappearing jackass of a president. I’ve got his notes right here, so let me…” He squinted at the clipboard. “God, did he write this shit with his face or something?”

“Need a hand?” Aoba asked.

“I’ve got it, just gimme a sec.”

They waited patiently. Since the day he’d first joined the club, Kai hadn’t physically grown an inch, but his temper had ballooned more than enough to make up for it. No one found it particularly threatening – several of them actually thought it was kind of cute when he got really worked up – but they didn’t want to be responsible for giving the poor guy an aneurysm.

“Okay, figured it out,” he said. “Main parts to cover today are the first swordfight with the Elementals, and the Lamplighter scene. Juno, Pina, Zoe, Tao, Silvie, Aoba, that’s you.” They nodded, except Pina, who merely yawned. “Els, be ready with feedback on the swordfight, okay? The choreography on that scene’s a pain in the ass. Lamar, get the lights straightened out when I’m done here, I’ll be with you right after. As for the Sound Team – Vim, I know the music club’s helping with the score on this one like always, so have they…” He peered at a female squirrel, a female hyena, and a conspicuous patch of empty space beside them, and his grip on the clipboard turned white-knuckle. “Oh, no. Where’s the other one?”

Vim the palm squirrel and Tierra the striped hyena winced guiltily. The sound crew had it tougher than any other part of the club right now; their most experienced members had been Mokichi and Riz, and one had graduated while the other was incarcerated. Vim, as the sole remaining member of the pre-segregation team, did her best to keep things afloat, but Tierra was a first-year and still learning the ropes, while their third member was, well…the other one.

“Seriously, where’s Rylan?” Kai asked. He looked skyward as if expecting a thunderbolt. “She’s not scuttling around the damn rafters, is she?”

“She’s in one of the dressing rooms, actually,” Tierra rumbled – the girl was a sweetheart but almost as muscular as Bill, likely able to bend a steel bar between thumb and forefinger. “Said she didn’t want to deal with the noise. I’d have dragged her out, but she’s a little…”

“Intense,” Vim finished.

“I was gonna say ‘terrifying,’ but, y’know. Either-or.”

“Everything she’s given me so far has been solid,” said Vim. “I sort of ran a mini-tech rehearsal to make sure the mixing was okay. But she keeps working on the backing track for the Powers-that-Be scene. She’s really into it. Like, mad scientist into it. I’m leaving her alone and hoping for the best at this point. Anyway, the music club’s going over the rest of the score, they want to run it by us in a week or two. No real issues.”

“Fine, I ain’t sticking my nose into it. Or my ears, whatever.” Kai returned to the clipboard. “Moving on. Costume parade’s officially set for the 28^th. Kibi, Fudge, I know you’ve got your shit together but I’d like to take a look at some point before the fitting. Moro, Mina, how’s that backcloth idea for the Lamplighter scene turning out?” Mina the giraffe flashed a thumbs-up. “Cool. Show me a sample when you have the time. That’s everything covered, so before we get started, if you guys don’t terribly mind, could someone please find Bill and murder him for making me do his goddamn job?! Where is that idiot?!”

“There’s the Kai we know,” Ellen said, as the echo died away.

“I saw him going into Louis’- sorry, the president’s office,” said Kibi. “He was taking a phone call. Looked pretty serious.”

“Damn it, this had better not be Gon busting our balls again.” Kai hopped down from the stage. “Somebody else deal with this, please. I’ve got bad memories of that room.”

Pina yawned again and stretched out, full-body and for much longer than necessary. “I suppose I’d better take the tiger by the tail.”

“Want me to come with?” Juno asked.

“Yeah, just in case he tries to maul your annoying ass,” Kai added.

“Perish the thought. I won’t be long.” He gave them all a languid wave and sashayed out of the room. After the doors clanged shut, the others went back to talking among themselves, though their conversation was unusually focused. This was not a room for idle chitchat.

Opening night for the club’s latest production of Adler was scheduled for mid-May, a little over a month from now, and it was looking to be a doozy. It was their first play since re-integration and Bill’s final production as club president, and the convergence of these two events had spurred a transformation in both the play and Bill himself. He’d already been growing out of his crude, meatheaded persona while trying to keep them together during the segregated days, but since the beginning of this year he’d entered some kind of directorial fugue state, rewriting and updating the club’s beloved standby into something altogether new.

The summary of Adler was thus: Adler, the reaper, encounters Wander, a nameless and newly-departed soul, and prepares to send her to the beyond. But instead of meekly succumbing to her fate, Wander rebukes Adler, impressing him with her mettle; he then chooses to abduct her instead, under the flimsy pretense of reaping her only when she’s prepared. This enrages the Powers-that-Be, the shadowy entities governing every natural law, who devote their own efforts to reclaiming the lost soul and punishing Adler for his transgression. Adler and Wander flee and fight through the remaining acts, each of them being granted opportunities to save themselves and choosing instead to futilely prolong the other’s life, and finally die in each other’s arms after proclaiming their love. Drop curtain, cue applause.

Juno had studied the play extensively during their aborted first attempt at performing it, and wasn’t surprised to learn it had originally been penned by an herbivore – it had that uniquely morbid mindset to it, the idea of death as the great equalizer and true salvation in a corrupted world. Adler, as one would expect from a story about the Reaper, was grim, with few moments of levity, and had been modified little during its many iterations. Toying with the starring roles’ genders and species (despite the play’s message, Adler was usually herbivorous, and Wander nearly always female) had been a bold enough move on their last try, but Bill had rewritten the play into more of a bittersweet love story instead of an outright tragedy, heavily modifying crucial scenes and adding several entirely new ones. In theatrical terms, it was like juggling lit dynamite.

But Juno loved the idea (and had even been one of Bill’s consultants during the rewrites), Pina was at least interested enough to take it seriously, and the rest of the club had followed their determination. Nowhere was that clearer than with Kai, who was currently scratching at his scalp until his head-fur was a mass of unruly spikes. Juno approached him, with some caution.

“That went well. You should take charge of meetings more often,” she said.

“I deal with enough shit already. Is Silvie doing alright, by the way?” He cast his gaze to the actress in question, a first-year Arctic fox nervously chatting with Tao. “Undine’s not a huge role but I get the feeling she’s overthinking it.”

“Tao and Zoe were talking her through it, last I checked. We’ll see how it goes today.”

“Alright. It was a good casting decision, in my opinion. I like the whole chiaroscuro thing she and Tao have going on. Just hope Kibi’s costumes take advantage of it.” He breathed deep, and noted Juno’s amused look with suspicion. “What?”

“It’s pretty cool how serious you are about all this,” she said. “Wouldn’t have expected it when we first met."

“Yeah, well, when we first met, I was the newly-anointed lighting bitch courtesy of Louis kicking me backstage,” Kai snapped, his fangs glinting. “And I even tried to like it! Except, whoops, the dumbasses in charge of this school decided to split us up by species after one of our own members gave them the perfect excuse, so I had to spend the next year cramming like a college student so that the whole club wouldn’t fall apart.” His voice was rapidly climbing in volume again. “Now we’re back together, except, oh shit, the stripey King Dumbass himself suddenly decided he’s a freaking artiste! He’s a trailblazer! You have any idea how fucked we are if this thing flops? It’ll be like telling the whole damn school that integrating was a bad idea! Well, screw that. Every time this shitty play gets put on it ends in disaster, but I’m ready for it this time. You’re not even talking to Kai right now. Kai isn’t here! This is just a mongoose-shaped husk filled with energy drinks and spite. I’m going to make this thing a success if it kills me and every one of-”

Juno cleared her throat and pointed behind Kai. He turned, saw who was standing there, and the inferno inside him was immediately doused.

“Oh, hey Lamar,” he said. “What’s up?”

Lamar, a second-year barn owl and Kai’s junior partner in Lighting, clacked his beak, his sandy feathers slightly frazzled. He looked ready to collapse from the mere weight of Kai’s gaze falling on him; it didn’t help that he was one of the few animals here shorter than the mongoose himself.

“I wanted to ask something,” he said, wringing his wingfeathers together. “Do you think we could go to the auditorium this weekend? I’m still not really used to the setup there.”

“Sorry, buddy, it’s booked ‘til next week. And nothing good comes of trying to sneak in there, trust me.”

“Got it. It’s just…I don’t know if I can…”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Now Kai’s voice was downright soothing. “Nothing wrong with getting nervous. I’ve been on both sides of the curtain, and I can tell you that stage fright’s not just for the actors. But there’s a month to go, I’ll be there, and we have the notes that the last tech left behind. This guy was a total weirdo but he knew his stuff. We follow those and we’ll be fine. Alright?” Lamar nodded. “Go ahead and get started. I’ll be with you in a sec.”

The owl smiled and scurried off. Kai watched him go, shoulders sagging. He refused to look Juno in the eye.

“Please don’t tell Louis that I’m good at this,” he muttered. “I can just imagine the look on that smug prick’s face.”

“My lips are sealed,” said Juno.

Kai nodded gratefully and made his way to the ladder, leaving Juno to study her script. She, like everyone else, was hellbent on making this work – and not simply for the sake of her club, or because her previous chance at the role had been snatched away by the segregation, or because Louis was going to be in the audience with his stern but tantalizingly sensitive mien. Bill was her understudy, being the only one in the club with any prior experience in the role, and that meant she couldn’t let him anywhere near the stage. With all the stress he was already taking on, becoming the Reaper might literally, and ironically, kill him.

*             *             *

Pina ambled down the creaking halls of the drama club building, the horned oblong of his shadow trailing behind him. He’d told the others that he wouldn’t be long, but one of Pina’s essential qualities was that he never went anywhere in a hurry.

Though he’d never admit it, he had developed a certain fondness for this place – the aura of gentle dilapidation, the contrast of gritty concrete and laminated wood, the windows perpetually filmed with a thin layer of dust. The animals cooped up in here with him weren’t half bad either, though he wouldn’t consider himself particularly close to any of them and they hadn’t been much fun to mess with in a while, being either too focused on the play or too accustomed to his presence. The only one whose skin he could still routinely get under was Kai’s, and that was hardly a challenge.

On the way to the president’s office, he passed one of the dressing-room doors and found it slightly ajar. He pushed it open, eyebrow raised quizzically. The hallway light cut through the gloom within and dimly illuminated a scrawny antelope jackrabbit sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, hunched over a laptop, a pair of headphones nestling in the lower recesses of her ears. She looked up at him and the half-light produced swampy green cataracts over her eyes like those of some deranged cosmic prophet.

“Occupied,” she said, in a voice husky and toneless as radio static.

“Keeping busy, Rylan?” Pina asked, but she’d already gone back to her laptop. He shrugged and moved on. Of all the clubmates he wanted to tease, Rylan was at the bottom of the list. He suspected that, if pushed, the elusive sound engineer would keep ignoring him right up to the point where she killed him in his sleep.

The president’s office, too, was shut up tight. Pina knocked twice and went inside.

Despite its name, this room had always been on the humble side, and had become moreso without Louis’ impeccable standards. It was sweltering in the summer, freezing in the winter, the furniture was scarred and stained, and parts of the carpet were worn down to raw wood. Bill was slumped in the armchair, phone in hand, and the honeyed light through the windows matched his pelt so closely that he seemed halfway there, slashes of darker black hanging in space. He looked to Pina, then back to the wall.

“Your presence is requested,” Pina said. “By our diminutive stage manager, specifically.”

“Close the door. We need to talk.”

“Talk, eh?” Pina complied and pressed his shoulderblades against the door, smirking. “Kai was rather insistent you hurry it up, but if you’re in need of some stress relief then I can spare a few minutes…”

“I just got off the phone with Riz,” said Bill. “He’s out.”

The effect these words had on Pina was drastic and immediate. He leapt away from the door like it had suddenly been electrified, smirk gone, wool askew. Bill’s stony expression didn’t change a centimeter.

“What do you-” Pina began, and then he stopped, went back to the door, opened it, checked the hall, found it empty, and then shut the door again and locked it, advancing on Bill with bared teeth. “What do you mean, he’s out?”

“I mean that he used to be in juvie, and now he’s out,” said Bill, with excessive patience. “They paroled him early. Something to do with the blowback from those bombings, he didn’t totally understand it either. He’s probably catching a bus back home as we speak.”

“And he called you?”

“Yeah. He wanted to thank us. You and me. For, you know, keeping him company.”

Bill was the only other animal in Cherryton who knew about Pina’s bi-weekly excursions to see Riz. Pina had (unwisely, in retrospect) dropped a hint about it to Legosi when the wolf’s latest suicidal escapade had landed him in the hospital, and Legosi had then passed it on to Bill. The chain of gossip had ended there, but it had also spurred Bill to bite the bullet and pay Riz a visit of his own, and since then, he and Pina had kept up the trips on alternating weeks, doing their best to make sure no one else in the school thought anything was amiss.

The mutual animosity between tiger and sheep was legendary within the Drama Club. Bill thought Pina was a pompous, insufferable asshole (this was not an uncommon view), Pina maintained that Bill was a vulgar, insecure tryhard (and also hugely entertaining to annoy), and while they forced each other to cooperate on matters of theatre, their interactions always crackled with latent hostility. But they’d reached a truce regarding the subject of Riz. The usual taunts and jabs that punctuated their conversation were absent. Indeed, Pina currently appeared to be having trouble forming words at all.

“Good,” he said at last. “Great! Encouraging to see that our justice system actually made a reasonable decision for a change. Can’t imagine why he called you, but…”

“I’m the only one who was still in his contacts list,” said Bill. “You want his number?”

“Obviously.”

“I’ll text it.” He hunched in his seat, poking at the phone screen. “Just do me a favor and lay off for a little bit, okay? I get the feeling things are gonna be really tense for him when he gets home. He doesn’t need us blowing up his phone.”

“Yes, fine, I’ll give it a day or two. There, R-I-Z. In he goes.” He put his own phone away and glared, scratching his horn. “Let me guess. You want to tell the others about this.”

“Up to you,” said Bill. “You reached out to him first. But I’m worried someone else in the club’ll get wind of it and start spreading rumors. That’s the last thing we need.”

Pina groaned and looked beseechingly skyward. “Do you have to sound so damned reasonable?”

It was an honest concern. Riz had become a bogeyman among the student body in general and the Drama Club in particular – his devouring of Tem was an indelible black mark in Cherryton’s record, and the consequent showdown with Legosi had almost certainly given the faculty motivation to ram through the segregation policies that had divided the school and scuttled the last attempt at Adler. Any mention of him within this building was taboo, and if anything that just made the club’s newbies more afraid of him than the ones who’d known him personally, as their imaginations ran amok in the crushing silence. Knowing that he was out in the world, let alone that the club president and one of the lead actors had been surreptitiously checking up on him, was bound to cause commotion. This close to opening night, that could easily lead to disaster.

“I think we should keep a lid on it until after the play’s done,” said Pina. “I'll have to be discreet about things, that’s all.”

“Discreet,” Bill repeated dully. A lot of doubt was packed into those two syllables.

“Oh, shush. I kept it a secret from you for months, didn’t I? And it’s not like I can ghost him after he finally left that horrid place.” He teased the wool of his bangs around one finger. “You don’t have to keep slipping out to see him, though. Just hold things down here. I’ll handle the rest.”

“That sounds fair.”

“I know it does. Speaking of which, we should get back before Kai’s head explodes. And Rylan’s sequestered herself in the dressing room, by the way.”

“That’s fine. Give her space.” Bill paused. “Pina, this thing between you and Riz…where’s it going, exactly?”

Pina gave him a flat stare. “What’s that supposed to mean? I doubt we’re going to become Beastbook buddies for a while or anything. He never even made a profile! It’s dismal, really.”

Bill held his tongue.

The day he’d gone to visit Riz, Pina had intercepted him on the streets (in his typical, borderline-supernatural way – the sheep could practically teleport to your side, usually when you least wanted to see him), and that was when they’d struck their truce. During that conversation, Bill had asked Pina why exactly he’d been so interested in Riz’s welfare to begin with. After a deeply uncharacteristic moment of doubt, Pina had jokingly replied that he’d perhaps fallen for the bear, but it hadn’t gotten much of a laugh.

Bill hadn’t pressed the subject any further, but the mystery of it still nagged at him. Pina went through girlfriends like paper towels and was a flirtatious gadfly towards absolutely everyone regardless of gender or species, but his dedication to Riz seemed to confuse even him, and it made Bill nervous. He’d gone through this song and dance once already with Legosi. It had resulted in a lot of blood.

“Never mind,” Bill said, and got up. “Let’s just go back.”

“One last thing. I won’t be at rehearsal tomorrow.”

“What, you’re going to try and meet up with him that soon?”

“It’s not that. Well, it’s related to that.” He sighed and swept his wool with both hands – he’d been playing with it a lot more since growing it out, usually when he was anxious. “Like you said, Riz being in public raises certain…concerns. I originally thought he’d be released after I was in college and had more autonomy to adjust my social schedule, but as it stands, even if we’re keeping this from the rest of the club, there’s another party I have to deal with. Better for me to get ahead of it than risk them finding out on their own. In other words…” He shut his eyes like someone expecting to get punched. “I have to tell my parents.”

“Oh.” Bill processed this. “Shit.”

“Yes. But that’s my burden to bear.” He managed a fresh smirk, and gestured grandly to the door. “Meanwhile, the show must go on.”

*             *             *

His claws had been filed down to the quick before he’d been released. They clutched a small nylon bag in his lap as he sat on the bus stop bench, posture ramrod-stiff, staring straight ahead. It was a lovely spring day and the sidewalks teemed with pedestrians, their scents all mingling with latent smog. After the months spent in that succession of boxy rooms, the motion of the outside world nauseated him.

There were two other animals seated here, on either side of him – an elderly pucker-mouthed spider monkey and a black-backed jackal who looked and smelled like he was on his way from a business lunch, with a starched shirt and rice cake on his breath. The whiff of it made Riz’s stomach rumble, but he tried to force it silent. They were already giving him odd looks. The reformatory had dressed him in the clothes he’d worn the day of his arrest, and while the bloodstains had been scoured off, they were too short at the wrists and ankles and too baggy everywhere else. As though his body had been stretched like taffy.

At least they’d charged his phone. He’d called his mother, and then Bill, and then gone to this bus stop and waited. He’d have to make his own way home. His mother worked as a nurse in a large-carnivore hospital and her hours were unforgiving. So here he was, freshly re-introduced to the outside world, the stink and the noise and the wide carnivorous sky.

Amid the writhing crowds he saw it. A still and spindly shape, indistinct of feature and white as cotton. The jackal turned his head quizzically towards Riz, hearing the bear’s heartbeat snarl up, but Riz’s face betrayed nothing. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again and it was gone.

He forced his hands not to shake as he carefully unzipped the bag and withdrew what was inside. The muzzle was a tough cone of gridded rubber, its straps dangling squidlike as he lifted it up. The other two animals on the bench carefully scootched away as he pressed it to his snout and fumbled with the straps – two for the buckle to tighten it over his head, and one for the clip that held it all in place. He got it on the third try and then lowered his hands back to his lap, the smell of everything now dulled by that new-tire aroma. He listened to his whistling breath as he waited to return home, and in front of him the slow promenade of civilization continued, these strangers arriving and leaving again.

Chapter Text

Pina’s family home was a two-story house in the suburbs, one node of many in a tidy labyrinth of white brick and wrought iron. When he’d been younger, he could navigate that maze from the mundane landmarks scoured into it by time – turn here at the cracked pavement where the weeds always grew, keep straight at the discolored patch of stone from where an irrigation pipe had once burst – but these days he visited seldom enough so that he had to rely on his phone’s GPS. He stopped when it told him to stop, closed the map, opened his contacts, scrolled down to Riz’s name. His thumb hovered over it for a second, but then he huffed and shoved it back into his pocket.

The weather was getting warmer, enough so that he needed to change out his wardrobe; he favored darker colors to contrast his wool, and scarves or hi-collared jackets, the better to accentuate his slender neck (one of his three best features, in his opinion). Now he shivered a bit through his windbreaker as he stared down the house. He’d last been here for the holidays and it hadn’t changed a jot. Considering what he intended to do today, that felt somehow ominous. A challenging of the natural order.

He let himself in through the front gate, gave the shrubs a quick once-over. Manicured as always. His father was a heating engineer and enthusiastic gardener in his spare time, and tended to the small property with exacting care. His mother, meanwhile, was a bookkeeper who usually worked from home due to her frail health, and so he let himself into the house with as much commotion as possible, just so she wouldn’t think that anyone was breaking in.

“It’s me!” he called.

The interior was gently cluttered and smelled of decaf. Neither of his parents were great decorators, but the walls sported the usual medley of framed family photos (Pina’s elementary school pictures hung in the foyer, so that height and horns increased gradually as you moved through the house), and his mother was an amateur collector of carved brachiosaur figurines, symbols of herbivore prosperity and fortune, which dotted shelves in a scattered herd. Pina heard the door to her study open and shut as he kicked off his shoes, and he looked up to see her standing there – Tess the Dall sheep, short-horned but otherwise bearing a striking resemblance to her son, if even more willowy. She smiled, embraced him, pecked him on the nose. He gave her a quick pat on the back. All familiar rituals.

“Welcome home,” she said.

“Hi, Mom. Did I interrupt work?”

“Just emails, you know how it is. They never stop. How’s school been?”

“Same old, same old.”

She stepped away and pinned him with her stare – she had the same ice-blue eyes as he did, and far more experience wielding them. “So what did you come all this way to tell us?”

“I’d rather tell you and Dad at the same time. It’s nothing bad, don’t worry.”

“You said the same thing over the phone yesterday. Somehow it doesn’t reassure me. Really, Pina, did you get someone pregnant? Your father and I have-”

“For the third time, no,” he sighed. “Grades are fine, club is fine, no one is pregnant or eaten or waiting outside my dorm room with a tire iron.” His father had come up with that last one. “I just wanted to keep you all in the loop on something. We can sit down and discuss it together. But it’s nothing to worry about. I mean it. Look at this honest face.” He pointed at his (presumably honest) face.

“Mm. You sound convincing, at least. My son the actor.” She relieved him of her stare. “I can hear my inbox pinging.”

“Better go un-ping it, then.”

“It’s just salads for dinner tonight. You called so late I didn’t have time for grocery shopping.”

“No complaints here. Do we have any rock salt?”

“Yes, and olives, I know how you like it. Make yourself comfortable until your father gets home.”

He watched her go and then went to the living room, where the couch’s upholstery was faded from the repeated pressure of the bodies which sat there. Sheep were creatures of habit and repetition, taking comfort in conformity. Pina, to put it delicately, was not. His parents had never quite known what to do with him.

He shrugged off his bookbag; inside was a spare uniform and his schoolbooks, and he took out the latter and spread them across the coffee table, made a half-hearted attempt to study. All the nonsense with Bill’s play was almost enough to make one forget that exams were coming up, and while Pina’s grades remained safely mediocre, burying his nose in Calculus II would distract him from his phone. Riz would be home as well. He didn’t need that kind of speculation in his mind right now.

He’d slogged his way through almost half a dozen exercises before hearing the front door open and shut again. It was followed by these noises: thumping boots, an unzipped jacket, a sighing grunt like a half-formed curse. His father’s homecoming was yet another ritual, and back when Pina had still been routinely getting into trouble at school, it was one he’d dreaded a little. He watched the shadow behind the doorway warp and lengthen as his father approached.

Niles the Dall sheep had horns that grew enough to form a full loop, their points curling just over his shoulders, almost parallel with his nose. Whenever he looked at someone, he had a tendency of angling his muzzle just so, making those horns resemble a pair of accusatory fingers, and he did that now to Pina, the wool puffing out from his utility-jacket collar untidy and stained with grease.

“Look who it is,” he said. “I thought we finally got rid of you.”

“You forgot to change the locks,” Pina replied.

“So you just walk right in and sit on my furniture like you own the place.”

“And later tonight I’m going to eat all your food. I’m incorrigible.”

“Mr. Vocabulary over here. That must be fancy boarding-school talk for ‘pain in my ass.’”

There was no rancor in this conversation, on either side. Pina had inherited his mother’s looks but his father’s mouth.

“Anyway, this big announcement of yours. Is it gonna spoil my appetite?” Niles asked, scratching his horn.

“I shouldn’t think so.”

“He shouldn’t think so,” he stated, to the room at large. “Then let’s wait until dinner.”

“Mom says it’s salads tonight.”

“She can hold off ‘til I clean some of this gunk outta my wool. I was on my back all day today. Shut it,” he said, pointing at Pina, who was now grinning ear-to-ear. “I won’t be long.”

Niles left, washed, and came back down in his undershirt and work pants, and then they were seated around the little dining-room table, the vestiges of dusk streaming in through the patio doors nearby. Pina chewed diligently through his green salad, but his eyes kept flitting between his parents like those of a cardsharp looking for a tell.

“How were things in the spreadsheet mines?” Niles asked, spearing a tomato slice.

“Nothing extraordinary,” said Tess. “You?”

“Boiler in this pissant laundromat went belly-up. I think it’d last gotten blown down around the time the dinosaurs went extinct. Spent half the day cleaning it before dispatch let me leave. My back’s killing me.”

“Do you want me to get the heating pad?”

“I can get it. Need a vacation more than anything else. Speaking of which.” He jabbed his fork at Pina. “We both took the day off for opening night of that play you’re doing. Albert, or whatever.”

“Adler,” said Pina.

“That’s the one. Rehearsal going alright? Anything catch fire yet?”

“No, no fires. Just a lot of stress. It’s the club’s first big production since they re-integrated, so that meathead tiger we call a president is going for broke. My role is usually meant for a female, the other lead’s a carnivore instead of an herbivore. It’s all very progressive.”

“Who gives a shit. Long as they can act.”

Tess shot him a warning look. “Niles.”

“Anyway, if you didn’t come here to talk about your club either, then I’m out of ideas.” He put down his fork and leaned back. “Let’s drop the other shoe, already. What did you want to tell us?”

Pina had rehearsed and researched this from every angle he could think of, and so far it had gone according to plan – parents in reasonably good mood, acceptable mix of expectation and suspicion, worst fears alleviated. He pushed his plate away and cleared his throat.

“There’s something I’ve been doing that I’ve kept to myself for a little while now,” he said. “But I thought it was time to let the two of you know, at least. I’ve been…fraternizing…with someone outside of school.”

“Fraternizing,” his father said. “Is that better or worse than fucking ‘em?”

“Niles!”

“It’s nothing like that,” said Pina. “He’s just a friend.”

Niles’ eyebrows went up. “A male friend that’s not in your school? How old is he?”

“He’s my age.” Step off the cliff. “He’s a carnivore. A bear.” Shut your eyes; here comes the ground. “And a predatorial offender.”

Silence. He opened his eyes. His parents stared back. After an eternity or so, Tess buried her face in her hands.

“Pina, oh my God,” she muttered.

“Hold on a second.” Niles leaned over the table. “A bear with a marked record? Is this the same psycho who ate that alpaca and tied you up?”

“His name is Riz,” Pina said quietly.

“For the love of- how long has this been going on?”

“Eight months? Give or take? I’ve been visiting him in juvie-”

“Oh my God.” Tess sank down, hands still over her eyes, elbows on the table; she appeared to be dissolving.

“Pina, are you kidding me with this shit?!” Pina flinched; his father seldom raised his voice, but when he did then it swept through the air like an axe blade. “What, were you coming by there to gloat? Rub his nose in it?”

“It’s not like that, I was-”

“We paid for that school so that you’d give this bullshit a rest, not take it to the next level!”

“I wasn’t gloating!” Pina shouted back, and that was enough to make his father stop talking and his mother look up, wide-eyed. “No one would talk about him! Every day I was at club since he got arrested, hardly anybody would even mention his name. I got so sick of it that I decided to check up on him myself and I found out that no one would see him in juvie, either. Not even his mother. And I put him there, understand? You can say that he deserved it, that he would’ve been caught no matter what, but I’m still the one who called the cops on him. So I felt…responsible. Obligated. I continued the visits. I made them a routine. Kept him up to date with the club, watched stupid TV shows with him on my phone, that sort of thing.” The fire he’d shown at the start of his rant was sputtering out fast, but he gave his parents one more defiant glare. “They released him two days ago, and I’m going to keep seeing him. I just thought you should know.”

“Is that right,” his father said, with the sort of calm that usually preceded hurricanes. “And this is, what, community service?”

“You could call it that. Remember all those animals who blew themselves up last year? How many of them do you think were in the same position as Riz? Records marked, nowhere to go, no one to care?” He raked wool away from his face. “But it’s more than that. He’s my friend. We’re friends. I won’t abandon him after he got out of that place. I thought it’d be better to tell you now, in case the two of us showed up in the background of a news broadcast or on some idiot’s Tweeter feed.”

His parents looked away from him then, towards each other. A transmission appeared to pass between them. When they looked back, their features had softened somewhat.

“Why did you keep this a secret from us?” Tess asked.

“Not just from you. From everyone. My club’s president knows now, but…” Pina threw up his hands. “I thought you’d assume the worst. That I was trying to antagonize him, like Dad said.”

“Suddenly I’m the bad guy here,” Niles said.

“I’m not blaming you. It makes sense that you’d be worried. But I’m trying to make this work. That’s why I wanted to tell you in person, to show that I’m taking it seriously.” Pina paused. “He feels terrible about it, you know. What he did.”

“I bet,” said Niles. “You’re aware that we can stop this with a single phone call, right? All we’d have to do is tell your school to stop letting you off campus without our permission.”

“That would be a shame,” Pina said, slouching a bit. “Then I’d have to sneak out. And then I’d get expelled, and you’d disown me and cast me into the street, and I’d spend the rest of my days cold and hungry under a bridge somewhere, with nothing to my name except a harmonica and a pocketful of broken dreams…”

“He gets this from you,” Tess told Niles, who’d clapped a hand over his eyes halfway through this monologue. He wiped it down his muzzle and looked up at the ceiling like he was praying for it to cave in on them.

“This discussion isn’t over,” he said.

Pina’s heart leapt, but he kept his voice casual. “I’m looking forward to the rest of it.”

“Have you spoken to this kid at all since they let him back into the wild?”

“No, not yet. I might text him later but it’s going to be a little while before we can meet face-to-face.”

“Pina, please be careful,” said Tess. “I’m trying to keep an open mind, but a bear? Even if we ignore what happened, he could still put you in the hospital by accident.”

“He knows that better than anyone.” Pina paused. “Saying that doesn’t help things, does it?”

“It doesn’t,” his father said flatly. “So let’s cut it short here. Do you need a ride back to school? It’s getting late.”

“Actually, can I stay the night? I brought a clean uniform and everything. Would be nice to sleep in my own bed.”

“Fine. Just get up at a reasonable hour. I don’t want to be late to work because you were hogging the bathroom to get yourself coiffed.” He took his plate and carried it to the trash to scrape it out; the tension in the room gradually drained away. “What’s up with your wool lately? It’s like you’ve gone from sheep to sheepdog.”

“What, this?” He tugged one of the overhanging locks and grinned. “It’s the latest style. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it.”

“Yeah, I’m real overdue for a trip to the salon. You’re excused, unless you want to help with the dishes.”

He gratefully retreated, making a quick detour to the living room to retrieve his bookbag and then heading upstairs to his bedroom. He let the books drop and then sat down heavily on his bed, holding his head in his hands just like his mother had done not fifteen minutes ago. He breathed in, breathed out.

None of Pina’s schoolmates, in Cherryton or elsewhere, had seen his room – his girlfriends were numerous but flitted in and out of his life like houseflies, and he’d never had any other friends close enough to invite over. They would have been surprised at what they saw. For all his flamboyance, the place was quite bare; the only hints of its owner’s personality consisted of a full-length mirror on the door and a few male fashion magazines and theatre digests scattered on the dresser and desk. Part of this was because Pina’s impressive array of self-care products had been relocated to his dorm room, but Pina himself simply didn’t have much of an inner life. What you see is what you’d get, he would tell the others, and smirk as if that was more than enough.

He swung his legs up onto the bed and tried to settle in. It was a struggle. Big-horned animals, sheep especially, had to use specialized pillows and postures to lie down comfortably without messing up their necks or accidentally impaling something; Pina’s father practically slept in a half-sitting position, which didn’t help his back problems any. Pina usually opted to just splay out on his belly, and he did so now, feeling his phone dig into his leg through the pocket of his jeans.

That conversation had been exhausting.

Herbivores and carnivores, generally speaking, had two very different approaches to social interaction. It was a matter of biology. Carnivores could be unsubtle on the surface (and often below the surface as well; Legosi in particular had struck Pina as someone who’d give himself a stroke if he ever tried to fib), but that was partly because their ears and noses made them living lie detectors, able to pick up on subtle adjustments of scent and pulse to divine the mood of whomever they spoke to. Consequently, most of them didn’t bother with subterfuge. Herbivores were different. Their senses could be sharp, their hearing especially, but their naturally conflict-avoidant personalities and skill at masking their own neuroses meant that they could often run rings around even carnivore senses, let alone each other. Discussions between herbivores were cautious, tentative things, like picking your way across broken glass, and Pina was a savvy operator even by herbivorous standards. The problem was that he often put those skills to, one might say, unproductive ends, which was the main reason why he’d been cast into Cherryton in the first place.

His liaison with Riz had changed everything. Now he found himself bending over backwards trying to avoid conflict instead of starting it. Cooperating with Bill, of all animals. It went against his nature so intensely that it made him feel like he had the flu.

He couldn’t wait any longer.

Pina flipped over on the bed and sat up, wrestling out his phone. He went down to his contacts and opened up the messenger, glaring hard at the screen, thumbs at the ready. His texting was slow at first, and he had to rewrite the introduction several times, but he found his groove easily enough.

Pina: well hello
Pina: remember me?
Pina: i hear tell you escaped from that dreary pit and you didn’t even send a letter! did all that time we spent together mean nothing to you??
Pina: Ꮚ´•̥̥̥ ‸ •̥̥̥Ꮚ
Pina: lol j/k  ᏊˊꈊˋᏊ
Pina: bill passed your number along so we can stay in touch this way
Pina: ofc i want us to meet up but that can wait until you’re settled in. just let me know place/time, anything works
Pina: take care

His messages were delivered but unread. Riz must have had other things to do. Pina replaced the phone and rolled over again, and his overheated mind cooled off as his eyelids grew heavy. He dozed.

*             *             *

Animal society had difficulties with inequality all over, and this was especially clear in real estate. There was the essential herbivore/carnivore schism, of course, whether this building or that building was intended to exclude one group or allow them to coexist, but the allowances and requirements of different species made residential zoning and development a constant headache. You could comfortably fit an entire rodentine apartment complex into a single-bedroom for some larger animals. Venomous animals needed waivers to cohabitate with other beasts. Snakes required either special lifts or ground-floor apartments due to their lack of limbs. And so on.

Mischa the brown bear lived with her son on the third floor of an old complex intended for large carnivores, and that meant reinforced floors and extra insulation designed to muffle the heavy footfalls of their residents. Because it was old, that also meant the drywall in many places was yellowed and stained, the pipes were a constant misery (especially in winter, rattling and wheezing when the heat came on and freezing in the cold), and the ceiling above the ancient clawfoot tub had to be vigilantly watched for the telltale signs of water damage. It meant a lifetime of careful, quiet movement, hoping that nothing would break, because bears had a reputation for accidentally breaking whatever they laid their hands on and landlords would abuse that stereotype to the hilt, delaying repairs, adding them to the rent. There were bigger animals out there – giraffes, elephants, rhinos like the respectable Superintendent Daxon – but they were herbivorous, and so lacked the violent connotations that trailed behind carnivores like a stench.

Ever since he was a child, Riz had perceived a sort of immutability in his mother that was often intimidating; she seemed less flesh and blood and more like a woodcut or sculpture that had one day decided to climb off its plinth and go out into the world. She shared his dark and deep-set eyes but her mouth was set in a permanent grim line that made her appear as though she was suffering a cramp. She wore shapeless sweaters, always spoke in a low voice, and moved with an animatronic primness that belied the exhaustion caused by her job; thirteen-hour days weren’t uncommon for her. Though Riz had grown taller than her since he’d gone to Cherryton, as he sat across from her now, the two of them wordlessly spooning dinner into their mouths, she still struck him as far more substantial than he was. As though she just had to wave her hand and he’d blow away like steam.

Dinner was a miso and noodle soup that tasted primarily of dishwater. Mischa’s cooking was better than what he’d gotten in juvenile hall, but not by much. He still ate steadily, swallowing through the knots in his stomach. As Bill had predicted, the tension in this apartment since he’d returned was thick as a miasma. The smothered creaks and thumps of the other residents punctuated the silence.

“I finished reading that packet they sent,” Riz said. The reformatory had mailed some paperwork ahead of his arrival, going over the stipulations of his release, listing some resources he could use for work and counseling. His muzzle now hung by its straps on his closet door, looking like a monstrous spider.

“Anything useful?” his mother said, eyes on her soup bowl.

“The superintendent told me most of it before I left.” He didn’t, nor would he ever, mention Daxon’s hand on his throat. “But the State counselor’s address is there, the one I have to see every week. I can reach it by train.”

“You’ll need a transit pass.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. If my bank account’s still open, then I could-”

“It is. I’ll give you the money.”

“Okay.”

Mischa marked when she was under stress, and several pieces of furniture still bore the scars of that bad habit. Riz could see it now, the manicured claw of her free hand lightly scraping the tabletop. He put down his spoon.

“It didn’t tell me anything about finding somewhere to live, but I can figure that out,” he said. “Hostels, youth centers. There have to be places around. I’ll leave as soon as I have some money, but if I could just stay until then…” He quailed a little as Mischa finally looked up at him. “I promise I’ll keep out of the way.”

“You want to leave?” she asked.

“What? I mean…of course I don’t want to, but I thought that…” He was fidgeting in his seat now; his mother’s blank, black gaze wouldn’t waver. “I didn’t think you wanted me around. After what I did.”

“You’re not the only carnivore to have gotten in trouble like this, Riz. Throwing you out wouldn’t help either of us.” Each sentence was delivered with the coldness and precision of a thrown hatchet. “If you want to live by yourself, that’s your choice. But I’m not going to force you.”

Riz watched, stunned, as she returned to her soup. She kept talking between sips.

“I looked over those papers before you moved in. I’d like you to go back to school, someplace that’s carnivore-only, but enrollment periods are closed until the fall semester. You’ll have to work in the meantime. There were a few job listings that seem promising. Places that are just looking for someone who’s strong and does what they're told. I’ll give you the numbers.” She laid a few last bedraggled noodles onto her tongue. “Before you go to bed tonight, write down whatever groceries you might need. I shop on Sunday, same as ever. I’ll buy some honey, too. I know it helps with your headaches.”

The knots in Riz’s gut had moved up to his throat. He hastily rubbed his mouth, to stop his lip from trembling. He wanted to tell her that he was going to do better from now on. Try to explain what had compelled him to chase after Tem that night, the loneliness that had festered in him until it had burst and unleashed that terrible hunger like pus. Reassure her, show his gratitude.

All he could say was, “I’m sorry, Mom.”

She stared up at him again. Riz’s eyes shone bright and wet in the flyspecked lighting. After a moment, she sighed, and gestured to his bowl.

“Eat,” she said. “You’ve gotten so thin.”

*             *             *

Pina was jerked out of dreamless sleep by a soft knock at his door. As he tried to work out which limb was which, his father’s voice drifted into the room.

“Pina? You awake?”

“I am now,” he said peevishly. “Come in.”

He untangled himself and sat upright as Niles entered and leaned against the dresser opposite Pina’s bed, arms crossed. In the pre-Cherryton days, this was a tableau recreated again and again, Niles delivering his lectures and admonishments from this position as Pina glowered from his mattress. The gulf of carpet between them was never crossed, having somehow become inviolable.

“Time for Round Two already?” Pina asked.

“This kid. Riz. What is he like?”

Pina had expected another jousting session to start them off. His father jumping right into things caught him off-guard. He was left with his mouth flapping like a nutcracker’s, and had to opt for stuttering honesty.

“He’s quiet,” Pina said. “I know that applies a lot of bigger animals, they don’t like to make a scene, but it’s not just the way he talks or anything. It’s like he’s always trying to fit himself into a smaller space than the one he’s in.” He tried to illustrate this, slowly moving his palms together. “He has a bad habit of painting a happy face on everything, too. Constantly insisting he’s fine even when he’s not. It can be a pain to work out how he really feels.”

“Makes sense. He covered up the fact that he ate his classmate for how long?”

“Months. I know. Everyone knows.”

“How’d these get-togethers of yours go, anyway? Did you ever talk to him about this?”

“I visited him in person,” Pina said. “Do I really strike you as the type to hide behind glass?”

“I wish.”

“The meeting rooms are padded, there’s guards outside, Riz was always cuffed and muzzled. I had to go through a solid week of paperwork to make it happen the first time.”

“You forged my signature again, didn’t you.”

“I didn’t. Really!” he added, as Niles’ eyes narrowed. “They just needed you two as emergency contacts. The most I did was sneak copies of my medical records for them. Blame the bureaucracy, not me!”

“I think I’ll blame both. But whatever. Keep talking.”

“That detention center is the most depressing place you can imagine, Dad, you have no idea. It’s no wonder all the inmates wear muzzles. After an hour in there I wanted to chew my own arm off just to see some color, and I don’t even have the right teeth for it. As for Tem, that alpaca…” He huffed, tossed his head, like he was trying to flip the question over. “I never knew him. I didn’t bring it up much to Riz. He already had enough reminders of what he’d done. Keeping it a secret like that was killing him inside, though. He’d started to lose his sense of taste…”

“This must have really been a damper on your social life,” Niles said.

Pina glared. “I’m trying to be serious, here.”

“So am I.” And indeed, the face between those accusing horns was solemn. “I had to put up with your unending parade of girlfriends for years without you even giving me any of their names, which was kind of impressive, honestly. If it wasn’t for your Beastbook page, I’d have thought they never existed.”

 “I should really lock that thing one of these days,” Pina muttered.

“You’ve been pretty tight-lipped about your classmates and the kids in your club too,” Niles continued. “And yet, I ask you a simple question about this bear, and I get a whole philosophical spiel in return. He’s taking up a lot of space in your head, all right. It has me wondering if that’s because he’s-”

“Because he’s a male?” he said dryly.

“Because he’s a carnivore,” Niles shot back. “I hear about this shit more and more from the guys at work. Some herbivore kids get chummy with carnivores because they’re excited by the idea of getting chewed on, and the next thing you know one of them’s in the hospital and the other’s in jail. Or worse.”

A big problem with these chats was that Pina couldn’t deflect them with sarcasm – even if Niles wasn’t his parent, he could match Pina’s quips blow for blow. He had to settle for indignation.

“You really think that little of me?” he snapped. “I know you and Mom don’t care much for how I get along with others, but I’m not totally witless.”

“Alright. But during your visits, did you get up in his personal space at all?” Pina hastily looked away. “Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

“It isn’t like that,” he said.

“It doesn’t matter what it’s like. Pina, look at me.” He did, and his sullen expression faded when he saw Niles’ own – he was clutching the dresser now, features etched with concern. “You want to give him a chance, fine. Sounds like he could use it. But you have to promise me that you won’t get cute with him, and don’t act like you don’t know what I mean.”

“It’d break a lot of hearts if I got too comfortable around Riz and he relapsed. Is that it?”

“If that’s not enough to convince you, then think of him instead. One-time pred offenders have it bad, two-timers are just plain fucked. They’d lock him back up and swallow the key.” Niles turned his eyes to the darkened window, chewing his lip. “A year ago I wouldn’t have given a shit, but those terrorist attacks have me thinking twice. You’ve got to sink pretty far to do something like that.”

“That’s what I said. Even if they weren’t all predatorial offenders.”

“You did the right thing, making this big ceremony about telling us. If you’d tried to sneak it into a text or something, then I’d have put a stop to it even with the bridge and the harmonica or whatever the hell you were on about.”

Pina relaxed by degrees. The worst of their sparring was past. “It’ll be fine. Riz and I have had the better part of a year. I’m reasonably certain we can catch a movie every now and then without causing a panic.”

“You really care about him, don’t you?”

And here was a surprise haymaker that left him reeling. Again he had to stammer through an answer.

“It’s not…I don’t…someone had to step up for this, okay? There’s more to him than what he did to Tem that night. And he needs someone around to remind him of that every now and then. Otherwise the idiot might stop believing it himself.”

Niles shook his head and finally pushed away from the dresser. Pina allowed himself to breathe again as his father gingerly touched the small of his back, wincing.

“All I know is I didn’t have to deal with any of this cloak-and-dagger shit when I was your age,” he said. “You got any other surprises for us? Finding time to study when you’re not being a diplomat and star actor?”

“Of course. I contain multitudes.” He paused. “Dad, can I ask you one last thing?”

“Shoot.”

He radiated cherubic innocence. “Did you and Mom think I was going to announce that I’d come out of the closet?”

“The possibility may have occurred to me,” he deadpanned.

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Well, there’s always next time.” He made for the exit. “G’night, kiddo.”

“’night, Dad.”

The moment the door shut, Pina collapsed back into his pillow, staring hollowly at the ceiling. He hadn’t been raked over the coals like that since he’d almost been suspended from junior high.

He’d obviously considered the herbivore-carnivore attraction angle between himself and Riz – after the insanity that Legosi had invited into the school and the world at large, it was impossible not to – and dismissed it. Pina had endured more travails on the fields of romance than half the other animals in his year combined, and whatever he felt about Riz, that wasn’t it. Romance didn’t involve this much stress. Not too different from his father’s gardening, in a way. The constant maintenance. The monitoring of Riz’s mood. What turbulence might be underneath that placid smile and infuriating muzzle that had been strapped onto him.

But then Pina flashed back to that day in that Cherryton bathrooms, when Riz had looked like he was going to call his bluff about eating him – the only carnivore out of dozens who’d finally done so – and then just popped Pina’s fingers into his mouth and left him splay-limbed on the tile floor, heart hammering through his ribcage. He’d never felt that kind of intensity, before or since.

His phone buzzed and he nearly catapulted himself through the ceiling. When he saw what had set it off, his face lit up brighter than the screen.

Riz: Hello Pina. Thank you for messaging me.
Riz: Tell Bill thank you also for sharing my number. I was going to ask him but I forgot.
Riz: I’m home and doing fine.
Pina: lmao you text like an old man
Pina: so is everything ok? with your mom and all??
Riz: I think so? I might have misread her before. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Riz: Long story short I shouldn’t have to move out at least.
Pina: hooray!!! Ꮚ☆ꈊ☆Ꮚ
Riz: I have to find a job before I do anything but I’ll you know as soon as it’s okay to meet up.
Pina: i’ll start making plans Ꮚ˃ꈊºᏊ
Riz: Lol. Nothing too crazy. I’m broke remember.
Riz: I’ll let you go now. Good luck with the play. And exams. And anything else.
Pina: pffffffff
Pina: stars make their own luck
Riz: Lol (again)
Riz: Goodnight Pina.

That seemed to be the end of it. Pina stood up, stretched, walked over to the window. It was full dark now, the ripening moon clear overhead, and the lights of this suburban maze dotted the earth like the night sky inverted. He could see his smile reflected in the black glass and silently admonished his reflection for it. There was no need to feel this kind of relief. Riz had shared some of his worries about his living situation after Bill had gotten in touch with him, and opened up more about it when Pina had pried, but Pina had known from the start that he’d just been blowing things out of proportion.

His phone went off one more time. Pina checked it.

Riz: ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

He snorted and eyed his reflection again.

“All in all,” he told it, “this could have gone a lot worse.”

He left to brush his teeth, turning his back on the lights outside. Some distance away, Riz lay on his own bed, legs dangling off the edge halfway to the knee, his phone pressed against his heartbeat. The beasts who occupied the adjacent rooms and the scattered houses of Pina’s own neighborhood also settled down, the movement of their routines rocking the city to sleep along with them, the circulation of these little lives.

Chapter Text

Sound equipment and ear protection were two of the trickiest technologies in animal society, something that Riz knew very well – every species’ ears had unique needs and sensitivities, so blocking and balancing acoustics could be a painstaking chore. During his time in the Drama Club, his thumping, stabbing migraines had actually been a twisted sort of benefit in this field, giving him a keen ear for how sound was projected from the stage; it was easy to catch the smallest creak or sour note when it made starbursts of pain fire off inside his skull. Hearing protection for animals who worked industrial jobs was also carefully calibrated to muffle the worst of the noise while allowing more typical sounds to strain through, and so, between his earplugs and the honey he gulped down every morning, these days in the construction yard hadn’t been too agonizing.

The syncopation of steel on steel continued in the background as he knelt before the concrete wall-forms planted in the mud. The animal beside him tapped one of those cross-hatched metal beams, explaining his next task. Riz could hear him loud and clear through the plugs, and no surprise, because Wes the brown bear (or grizzly, as he insisted, having been born and raised further inland) was so massive that his voice shuddered in Riz’s marrow.

“It’s pretty simple,” said Wes. “We sandwich these suckers in the dirt, pour the concrete, and yank ‘em out again once it’s dried. But before we remove them, we have to strip them clean of all the concrete and other crap that dripped onto them during the pouring. Just give the chunks a good whack with the hammer to break ‘em loose. You can pick the fiddly bits out with your claws, but we don’t need to eat off the things. Close enough is good enough, yeah?”

“Okay. Are you sure you don’t need me for anything bigger?” Riz, for his part, had some trouble making himself heard. The muzzle only let his mouth open so wide.

“You’ve done nothing but heavy lifting since you got here, kid. Even guys like us need to go easy once in a while.” Wes grinned and flexed, though not too hard, just in case the sleeve of his coverall exploded.

This construction job had been among the ones Riz’s mother had listed for him, and the first to have called back after he’d reached out. The foreman, a droopy-faced bobcat named Morgan who sounded like he’d eaten a carton of cigarettes for breakfast, had skimmed the quick and sloppy résumé Riz had prepared, asked several curt questions about his criminal charges, asked a somewhat lengthier one about his work hauling gear for the sound team, and then led him out of the site shack and over to a pile of fifty-pound concrete sacks nearby. Riz might have gotten thinner but his muscles hadn’t atrophied much, and when he’d hoisted two of those sacks onto his shoulders with no apparent effort, Morgan had shaken his hand and said they’d give him a try.

He’d spent the three days since then running back and forth across the clanging, dusty site, fetching tools, pipe, gravel, cement. It hadn’t been long before Wes had started to unofficially supervise him, and the first time Riz had seen the grizzly, he’d wondered if maybe the strength blockers didn’t work as well for inland bears. Riz was big; Wes was colossal. His every movement was like a minor tectonic event. There seemed to be more of Wes in any given space than that space could reasonably hold. And while most bears cultivated easygoing, affable personas to avoid frightening other animals, Wes’ friendliness was no act. Anyone who eavesdropped on the phone calls he made to his wife and baby daughter ran a serious risk of going into diabetic shock.

“The boss wants this section finished up by lunchtime,” Wes said. “You’re not the only one working on it, so don’t stress.”

“Okay. Um, should I start here?”

“Yeah, that’s as good a place as…oh shit, look who finally poked his head out! Hey, old-timer!”

Riz almost dropped his hammer at the sudden thunder of Wes’ shout. The grizzly was enthusiastically waving someone over. Riz turned around and saw the newcomer, a mottle-scaled Komodo dragon who strode across the site like he was watching for sinkholes to open up underneath his feet. He smiled at Wes, though with some exasperation.

“This is Gosha,” Wes said. “Oldest guy on the job, though you wouldn’t know it by looking at him. I’ve barely seen you all week, you sneaky bastard.”

“You probably just didn’t notice me from all the way up there,” Gosha said. Then he looked at Riz, who felt a brief and inexplicable pang in his chest; the beady eyes beneath the brim of his hard hat were somehow familiar. “This is the new kid, eh. Your nephew or something?”

“Nah, no relation. What are you trying to say?” Wes added, feigning offense. “Bears all look alike?”

“I’m Riz,” he said, and offered his hand. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

Gosha looked at Riz’s hand, then back up to Riz.

“Gosha’s not much of a handshaker,” Wes said, as Riz awkwardly lowered it. “Venomous, you know. Real sensitive about it. Don’t take it the wrong way if he spritzes you with antiseptic, it’s like a rite of passage around here.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Gosha said mildly. “I should get back to work. Good to meet you, Riz. Stick close to this big fella and you’ll be alright.”

They watched him turn away and stalk off. Wes scratched his cheek with one of his pickax-sized claws, his snout creased in puzzlement.

“He’s been a little off the last few days,” he said. “Never was the chatty type, but still. Maybe it’s this weather.” He looked up at the grey skies. “Not warm enough for his blood.”

“I feel like I’ve met him before.”

“That’s just lizards for you. They ain’t always easy to tell apart. Unlike us bears.” He gently nudged Riz with an elbow and almost sent him flying. “And, uh, I’ve been meaning to say. You know that you can take that thing off, right? It has to be full of dust by now. And it’s not like you’re this big scary threat to any of the guys here.”

Riz adjusted his muzzle. “It’s okay. Figure I’d better get used to wearing it. I’m stuck with it for a while.”

“Yeah, ‘course you are.” For a moment, stormclouds passed over Wes’ expression. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. Daylight’s wasting.”

The muzzle did make things a little harder – Riz’s nose was usually full of dirt by early afternoon – but not enough for anyone to notice. He focused on chipping away the concrete, lost himself in his aching muscles. He didn’t see Gosha again, and by the time his shift ended, the Komodo dragon had slipped from his mind.

*             *             *

Riz: I got a job.
Pina: aaaaaaand??? ᏊꏿꈊꏿᏊ
Riz: It’s just work at a construction site. Nothing special.
Pina: yes that sounds very boring, and also i meant when can we meet
Pina: because we can do that now, right
Pina: say yes, i’m dying over here
Riz: I should be free on Saturday afternoon?
Pina: oh thank GOD Ꮚ≡д≡Ꮚ
Pina: finally i have something to look forward to besides the latest nightmare at this stupid club
Riz: It’s that bad?
Pina: bill is being a prissy bitch over the promo poster designs
Pina: lamar almost had a panic attack because a spotlight went on the fritz
Pina: rylan the terrible keeps skulking in the corners like she’s planning to steal our souls
Pina: pretty sure i saw kai bite through his clipboard yesterday
Riz: Yeah the last month or so before opening night is always rough
Pina: don’t i know it
Pina: anyway!!
Pina: B-Strike is probably out because of all the new security after it uhhh exploded, you have to make appointments like a week in advance
Pina: how about Samoyed Street?
Riz: Anywhere you want to go is fine with me. I’d just like to see you.
Pina: that’s so heartwarming. i’ll text the address
Riz: Sorry but I don’t get paid until next week. We probably won’t be able to do much.
Pina: you let me worry about that Ꮚ˃ꈊºᏊ
Riz: What do you mean?
Riz: Hello??

*             *             *

Every dwelling had its weak spots, the architectural equivalent of a bad hip or trick elbow – the rooms where everything was always on the cusp of breaking down. For Riz’s apartment, it was the bathroom. The building’s ancient, hateful pipes and treacherous water heater worked the most mischief here. The shower would take an age to warm up or turn scalding hot at a minute’s notice; the toilet would bubble ominously at odd hours of the night; the grout was best not examined too closely. Before he’d left for Cherryton, Riz hadn’t even liked standing in here too long, in case his presence alone would cause something else to go awry. But circumstances had forced his hand. He needed the mirror.

He tried to take in the whole of himself in that speckled glass, one piece at a time. He stood on his tiptoes to check his waist, held out one arm then the other. The prognosis wasn’t great. The hems and cuffs of his hoodie barely covered him if he stood stock-still, and this was the biggest jacket he owned.

Clothes shopping was on Mischa’s list of priorities, but it just wasn’t in the budget right now. One unexpected blessing of Riz’s new job is that the coveralls they provided him kept him from looking too foolish on the trains, muzzle aside, but he figured that he’d look even odder wearing it on the way to his counselor’s appointment. To say nothing of where he was going after.

He double-checked his muzzle’s straps and left the bathroom, still tugging on his hoodie’s hem in a vain attempt to stretch it out a little. Mischa was in the kitchen, stoically chewing her oatmeal, coffee mug at her elbow. Her schedule was ironclad as it had ever been; she had one day off a week and used it for groceries, laundry, cleaning, and then an hour or two sitting catatonically in front of the TV before sleep. She’d never had a vivacious social life, but what little there had been had withered up entirely after Riz’s father had passed.

He went to the fridge and took the lunch he’d brown-bagged the previous night. Two egg sandwiches with ketchup. He’d scrambled them himself with the few crumbs of cheese they still had left; it was technically the first meal he’d gotten to prepare since he’d been locked up.

“You have everything you need?” she asked him. He put his lunch into the schoolbag slung over his shoulder and stood with his back to the fridge like a fugitive caught in a spotlight.

“I think so.” He patted the bag. “Brought proof of employment just in case. Do I look okay?”

Mischa wasn’t cruel, but she was also a poor liar. He saw the dismayed look in her eye. “I knew that I should have saved some of your father’s clothes.”

“It’s all right. We can go shopping together when I get paid.”

“I’m not even sure that his shirts would have fit you, the rate you’re still growing.”

“You should see one of my coworkers.” He held his paw up high. “He’s a grizzly but he’s practically elephant-sized. Really nice guy, though.”

She sipped her coffee, with some deliberation. “Glad to hear you’re getting along.”

“Yeah. Um. Is it okay if I stay out a little late? I’d like to check out the neighborhood. See what I’ve missed.” He thought about mentioning Pina but for some reason the words slipped on his tongue and fell back into his throat. It was something about the way Mischa set her mug down. It thunked against the table like a gavel.

“I guess it’s fine,” she said, after a long moment. “What do you want to do?”

“Just walk around. Maybe on Samoyed Street? It’s always so crowded there that I shouldn’t stand out too much.”

“Try to steer clear of any herbivores. You don’t want the police to get on your case.”

He unconsciously touched his neck. “I know. I’ll be careful. And I’ll get back before dark.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said. He nodded and started to leave, and then heard her chair’s legs scrape the ground. He turned back in time for her to catch in him in a quick hug, and poke her nose against the tough rubber grid of his muzzle. She broke away before he could hug her back and stared him down, still unsmiling.

“Good luck today,” she said, and with small, wooden steps, returned to her seat and picked up her spoon.

*             *             *

It had gone so well that it was almost disappointing.

Education about predatorial offenders started in elementary school, warnings from teachers paired with menacing instructional videos – don’t go with strangers, stay close to your parents, look out for the ones with glazed eyes or drool-slicked chins. The warnings were valid, since there was always a market for veal. But from those early lessons, all sorts of wild speculation had grown. Riz and his classmates (herbivore and carnivore alike; younger grades were nearly always mixed, the slow drift of species only taking place as they got older and meaner) tossed all sorts of rumors back and forth, not only about the depraved nature of these hidden criminals, but also what the law would do to the ones it captured. Firing squad. Electroshock. Shoving their heads in tubs full of blood until they barfed. There was no end to their inventiveness.

There hadn’t been anything like that in juvenile hall. Riz and the other inmates sat through long videos about civic-mindedness and carnivore/herbivore etiquette. They were given breathing and meditation exercises and trotted into routine one-on-one sessions with State-appointed therapists who often looked right past them. Riz believed that the lessons had helped a little, but for some reason all of the material they’d been shown had treated the act of predation as a strictly carnal sin, something that happened when a carnivore succumbed to their “disharmonious instincts,” as one particularly clinical video had termed it. There hadn’t been any mention of loneliness, the need to connect with someone growing like poison ivy inside you. When he’d watched Tem scream and run from him, his nose flooding with the smell of the alpaca’s freshly opened wound, he’d felt the sadness he’d nurtured for so long, that hibernating isolation, roar and open its own jaws. There’d been nothing of Riz after that moment except a deep, dark hole. And then he’d been staring down at that twisted white shape in the auditorium’s murk, with clotted blood dripping down his chin.

The State had stayed quiet about all that, and so Riz had stayed quiet in return. He’d given the therapists rote and contrite responses and told no one about the dreams. That had been enough for them to declare him rehabilitated.

Unsurprising, then, that the “counselor” had turned out the same way. He was a bespectacled terrapin of indeterminate age who moved with eerily quick and jerky motions, especially for his species, putting Riz in mind of a malfunctioning windup toy. His questions had been monotone and mostly concerned Riz’s medication schedule (regular, the pills safely kept behind the bathroom mirror) and his muzzle use (routine, not too uncomfortable), until they got to the part about employment. He had droningly reminded Riz of the two-month deadline when Riz had cut him off and produced the letter that the construction foreman had written for him, and that was the first and only time the counselor’s face had lit up. There’d been warm congratulations, a brief promise to email him any potential leads for schooling, and the appointment had ended a full thirty minutes ahead of schedule. Riz had found himself outside the office’s fogged glass door, nonplussed, letter still in hand.

It made sense in retrospect. He couldn’t have been the only juvenile pred offender who’d received early parole recently, and the State’s resources must have been stretched to the breaking point. They were filling out checkboxes, only paying attention to these wayward youths in case they did something that warranted throwing them back into the detention centers. He doubted his future visits would be any more thorough than this one, assuming he kept his job.

So now he was on Samoyed Street, one of the city’s mid-scale commercial areas. It was a wide boulevard whose outer edges swooped in and out like an intestine, lined with department stores, restaurants, and Club Erina, one of the more popular arcades in the district; it wasn’t the headache-inducing smear of neon and red lights that you got at the borderland to the Black Market, but it also wasn’t so affluent that Riz would catch the police’s attention just for slouching around the place. Most of those lacquered shopping plazas were uptown, and many of them still bore the scars of old bombings.

He texted his mother the good news, found a bench, quickly unclipped the muzzle, and wolfed down both the sandwiches so fast that he barely tasted them, putting the mask back on as soon as he was done swallowing. It got a few odd glances, but the muzzle and his bookbag and the general homeliness of his appearance must have clashed enough so that most passersby couldn’t get a read on him, and they shrugged and moved on.

Even in Cherryton there had never been crowds like this. He’d already reached the point where he felt naked without these straps digging into the back of his head.

Empty pockets. Nothing much to do except wait. He regretted not bringing a drink; the eggy residue on the roof of his mouth was faintly nauseating. He scrolled aimlessly through his phone, head down, the mad mélange of scents from all these beasts filtered through the muzzle. At one point he glanced up and thought he glimpsed something within that seething mass, the white shape like a colorless hole in space, but his eyes flickered and it was already gone.

Pina had said to meet him in the plaza near Club Erina. When the time came, Riz got up and made his way over, taking exceeding care not to get near any small herbivores – even if they weren’t suspicious of his appearance, one wrong step could accidentally punt one of them all the way across the street. The arcade and its adjacent shops were squatted in front of a wide sweep of flagstone dotted with wrought lampposts and decorative maple trees, and Riz fumbled through the crowd, looking this way and that, elbows drawn in like he wanted to disappear into himself.

Best bet was to look for the horns, Riz thought. Not for the wool. He wanted to see white but not that white. Scent was useless, there were dozens of animals here. Unless he hadn’t shown up, it was always possible, he had a busy social life already…

His phone buzzed and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

Pina: psst
Pina: behind you

Riz turned and there he was, leaned up against the lamppost like he’d been there all day. Pina pocketed his phone and held up his hands in mock surrender.

“You found me,” he said.

Several varying responses jostled to escape Riz’s mouth. The one that made it out first was, “How long were you standing there?”

“I’m here, I’m there, I’m everywhere. And you…” Pina ambled up to him, examined him top to toe, and delivered his verdict. “Look like shit. As expected.” Then he beamed. “But it’s good to see you.”

Riz smiled bashfully. “Yeah, none of my clothes really fit anymore. I’ll get new ones soon, but…anyway, it’s good to see you too. And you look good. I mean. As usual. You know what I mean.”

“Obviously. I’ve been using freesia-scented horn polish this week, though I doubt you could tell, between the smells of the unwashed masses and that awful thing.” He pointed at Riz’s muzzle, his smile going sour. “Are they seriously still making you wear that?”

“Yes and no? They can’t force me to keep it on, but they said that if the police think I’m threatening an herbivore for whatever reason and I’m not wearing it, they’ll basically throw the book at me.” He put one hand over the muzzle like he was protecting it from Pina’s glare. “It’s not so bad, really.”

“Let’s go find a cop. I want to yell at them.”

“Please don’t.”

“I’m going to make a terrible scene.”

“Pina, I’m begging you not to…you’re messing with me, aren’t you.”

“Well. Yes and no.”

With that, Pina glided over to Riz and practically clamped himself to the bear’s side. Riz grunted in surprise and cast a frantic eye over the crowd in case anyone was making condemnatory gestures in their direction, but they still seemed invisible for now.

“You’re finally out,” Pina said, somewhere around Riz’s ribcage. “How’s it feel?”

“Good. Feels good. Pina, you’re a little close.”

“Thought you liked it that way. I didn’t hear any of this complaining when I got cozy next to you in juvie.” He gave Riz a playful punch in the chest and stepped back. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry? There’s a stall around here that does incredible grilled rice crackers, like ten different flavors.”

“No money, remember?”

“That’s why I’m treating you, idiot. Come on.” He tried to pull Riz down the street, though it took no small amount of effort just to lift the bear’s arm. Riz complied anyway, and walked through the crowd like a submarine’s periscope parting the waves, following the curls of Pina’s horns.

“I’m in the mood for soy sauce flavor,” Pina said. “Keep it classic. How about you?”

“Sesame, I think?” His stomach made his mouth form the words with minimal input from his brain. Those sandwiches really hadn’t been enough.

“Ooh, how refined.”

“And maybe a lemonade, if you’re treating. I haven’t had anything to drink all day. But Pina, is this really alright? You don’t have to spend money on me.”

“I actually have a budget surplus at the moment so this works fine. My parents give me a little allowance and I save most of it for dates, but, with one thing and another…” He flicked the wool over his eyes and shrugged. “There’s been less time for that lately.”

“How many girls are you seeing right now?” He’d spent enough time around Pina to know that this didn’t count as a personal question. Pina would have kept a scoreboard of his latest conquests if he thought he could get away with it. But he took an unusually long time to answer.

“Two or three,” he said, and paused. “One or two.” Another pause. “Actually just the one, right now.”

“Oh. What’s her name?”

“It’ll come to me in a second.”

“Is everything okay? Bill did say your reputation would catch up to you eventually.”

“Bill doesn’t know his own ass from a traffic cone. I’ve just spent so much time focusing on this deranged play of his that my social life’s suffered. I’ll make up for it after he graduates and frees me from his presence.” He smirked at Riz over his shoulder. “But, my loss is your gain. If I have cash burning a hole in my pocket, the least I can do is welcome you back to civilization. Here’s the stall. I’ll order for both of us.”

He strode up to the armadillo working the grill, who shot Riz a brief look before Pina re-directed her attention and subjected her to his aggressive charms. He came away a minute later with six paper-wrapped crackers and a can of lemonade, which he thrust into Riz’s face.

“There. Wrangled a straw and everything. Let’s find somewhere to sit down.”

They rested under one of the maple trees, and Riz ate as Pina regaled him with the latest gossip about the Drama Club – this had become their conversational standby, because whatever else might be happening, the club always produced fresh drama. Riz carefully broke up the crackers and slotted them through the gaps in his muzzle, while Pina gabbed on energetically enough to dust his windbreaker with crumbs.

“Ellen’s doing fine enough as my understudy, I suppose, though she’d be doomed if she actually had to perform. Bill’s rewrites are too rigid. Wander and Adler’s characters got tweaked so that they work for me and Juno and no one else, you understand?”

“Wander’s usually an ingenue,” said Riz. “I guess now he’s more confrontational?”

“Haughty is the word I’d use.”

“Well, if the shoe fits…”

“You too? I’m surrounded by traitors,” Pina said, but way he smiled suggested that he didn’t disagree. “Meanwhile, I’m told that Louis’ rendition of Adler was on the bombastic side. ‘Tremble, puny mortals,’ that sort of thing. Sound about right?”

“He was like that on and off the stage, really. Larger than life. Made sense, being an herbivore Beastar candidate in a place like Cherryton.” He finished off the crackers. “Why, is Juno different?”

“Quiet but intense, except during that one big monologue. She’s still having some trouble with the mask blocking her face, but at least she’s good at keeping her tail in check. Wouldn’t be appropriate for the Reaper to wag. If Bill tried to fill in for her then it would be a fiasco. He’s about as good with subtlety as I am with chastity.”

“How’s the Sound Team?” Riz asked. He, too, worried about Vim and the lurch that he’d inadvertently left her in.

“Kai hasn’t disemboweled anyone yet so I guess they’re doing okay. It’s just…” He cringed and outlined rabbit ears with his pointer fingers like he was warding off a curse. “Rylan.”

“She doesn’t do anything except mix sound effects, right? Mokichi didn’t actually have anyone like that when I was around. It was all pre-made or from the orchestra.”

Pina rolled his eyes. “It’s not as though she can stand the company of anyone besides her laptop. Anyone who comes near her staggers away like they got hit with a baseball bat and won’t say why. It’s like Legosi all over again, except pint-sized.”

“That’s not so bad,” said Riz. “Legosi was really good at his job. Louis might not have liked him personally, but he never had a bad word to say about the lighting.”

“Louis this, Louis that,” Pina sighed. “I can’t get away from that insufferable deer.”

“You’ve met him?”

“He popped by the rehearsal room to lord it over us a few times this semester. Made goo-goo eyes with Juno. Is it true that he was with those Black Market crooks?”

“Your guess is good as mine. The last time I saw him was…that night.”

That got Pina to shut up and examine his shoetips for a minute. The New Year’s Eve showdown between Riz and Legosi was one subject that they tended to avoid, save for the very first time Pina had waltzed into juvie to see him. Riz still remembered it keenly, in shutter-snap sensations: the wet crunch of Legosi’s limp body as he slammed it into the pavement; the revving engine of Legosi’s growl when he’d re-emerged from his talk with Louis, his body almost electric with the strength Louis’ leg had granted; Louis’ buzzsaw scream as he’d cheered Legosi on. The impact of that final punch, which had struck Riz square in the midsection and shuddered seismic through his bones. He could have gone on fighting. He might have even won. But it was like all his bloodlust had been blasted out through his spine in that single blow. When Legosi had wished him a happy New Year, he’d no longer seen the point of raising his fists.

And then the sirens, the police bobbles painting the underpass in hysterical colors. As they’d hustled him into the paddy wagon, he’d glimpsed Pina’s shape between the cars. The sheep’s expression had been inscrutable in that moment. He hadn’t looked proud, or smug, or vindictive. He’d stared at Riz as though seeing him for the first time.

“Anyway,” Pina said, rather loudly, “Cherryton’s former star actor is now sporting a scar on his face that not even the most open-minded audience could love, so I guess that’s one piece of evidence in the theory’s favor.”

“Bill told me about that,” he said.

“Looks like someone tried to split his entire head in half. I doubt he acquired it from playing croquet.”

“You never know. One time, Tao tripped and fell right through a backdrop and Louis went ballistic. Pinned him to the ground with a prop sword, though I think Tao just didn’t fight back because he was scared of all the yelling. Dom actually started hiding the pointier props after that.”

Pina burst out laughing and Riz smiled and sipped his drink, easing the straw into his muzzle. He had to resist draining the entire can in a single drag; those crackers hadn’t done much to help his thirst. He realized that, during their conversation, he’d stopped surreptitiously checking on the crowd, or noticing the way his jacket cuffs hitched up whenever he bent his elbows. He felt lighter.

Then he noticed Pina glaring hard at him, and stopped in mid-sip.

“What is it?” he asked.

“That ridiculous basket on your face,” Pina growled.

“Like I said-”

“I know what you said. It still pisses me off. The one thing I wanted was to see you properly and I can’t even have that much? Couldn’t you take it off for just a second?”

Riz scootched away from him. “I really shouldn’t, Pina. Being this close to an herbivore and all.”

“Even if it’s me?”

“Yes. It’s nothing personal. But I’d rather look ridiculous than dangerous.”

Pina’s expression turned contemplative for a moment. Then he whipped out his phone and started jabbing at the screen with fearful alacrity. Riz leaned over to see what he was doing and Pina elbowed him away.

“No peeking,” he said.

“What are you doing?”

“Ridiculous or dangerous, he tells me. Let’s see if we can find a third option. No, no good, too expensive, too white-collar, not expensive enough…aha! Zoozootown, stylish yet affordable fashions for carnivores and herbivores alike, and it’s not even five minutes away. Come on.”

“What? Where? Why? What?” The flow of conversation had suddenly turned into a riptide.

“I wanted us to hit up a movie or something but I’m not going to be seen in public with you like this a moment longer.” Pina sprang to his feet and artfully swept his wool back. “You need a decent outfit.”

“Oh no. Pina, I appreciate the snack and everything but that’s way too much.”

But Pina had hooked his arm around Riz’s elbow and started to pull. Riz could have hurled him halfway down the block with minimal effort, but sheer bafflement had shut down his resistance. Pina pulled him down Samoyed Street, checking his phone with his free hand.

“If there is one thing I care about on this forsaken planet, it’s appearances,” said Pina. “You’re about to observe this Dall sheep in his natural habitat.”

“Do you even know anything about carnivore clothing?”

“You’re not exactly shambling around in loincloths and necklaces made of skulls, so I’m pretty sure that I can work it out. Now hush and follow me, and don’t feel any pity for the clerks I might destroy. They knew what they signed up for.”

Riz couldn’t find the words to protest as Pina hustled him across the sidewalk and into the department store, a low-ceilinged cavern whose décor trended heavily towards pine paneling. He watched mutely as Pina cornered one of the clerks and politely asked where to find casual wear for carnivores; embedded in that politeness, like razors in velvet, was a promise of vicious reprisal if the poor clerk so much as looked askance in Riz’s direction. He didn’t break stride as he hustled Riz to the appropriate racks. His eyes were narrowed, jaw set. For all of Pina’s melodramatic relish in describing his own fashions and beauty regimens to others, he apparently treated shopping like charging a barricade in wartime.

“Do you have any particular look you want to go for?” he asked, the first thing he’d said to him since entering the store.

“Not really?”

“I figured as much, Mr. Black Hoodie. I won’t be too ambitious in that case. What’s your size?”

“LCXXL, but that was before I went into juvie. Is there any chance that I can stop you from doing this?”

“Not unless you pick me up bodily and carry me away. And I doubt you want to make that kind of scene, though some of these rubberneckers might get a kick out of it.” He made an exaggerated wave at two coyotes looking at him in confusion. “Yes, hello, I’m not lost, have a nice day!”

Pina led him to the changing rooms and told him to stay put as he went about his business, and Riz stood there with palms folded at his waist like a scolded child, glimpsing those horns pop up here and there among the racks. The lightness he’d felt earlier had turned into the haziness of a dream. The syrupy pop straining from the store’s speakers was bringing his headache back.

Pina re-emerged periodically to hold some garment up to Riz, shake his head in disgust, and then storm off again. After half a dozen attempts, he thrust a pullover and pants into Riz’s arms and told him to get changed.

“No shoes or accessories, that would be more than my wallet can take,” he said. “But this ought to work.”

“My shoes are okay,” Riz said, and examined his scarred and weathered boots – luckily his feet hadn’t grown with the rest of him. “Aren’t they?”

“Yes, they look perfectly fine. As long as I close my eyes.” He shooed Riz away. “Go on, I want to make sure I got the sizes right.”

Riz briefly entertained dropping the clothes over Pina’s head and making a run for it. Instead he turned and marched into the changing room. The close quarters made him uncomfortable – he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d picked up a touch of claustrophobia in juvie, his frame always being crammed into little boxes with low ceilings and slit windows – but when he finished getting dressed and checked himself in the mirror, he wasn’t averse to what he saw.

The moment he stepped back out, delight spread across Pina’s face like a sunrise. He clapped his hands, practically bouncing in place.

“I love it,” he said. “Do you love it? You have to love it.”

He’d given Riz a soft blue cowl-neck sweater with a sort of black grid pattern spread halfway across it, like the garment’s right arm and chest had been covered with a spiderweb that was all right angles, and hunter-green cargo pants that were slightly baggy and clinked with zippers. Everything was a little loose, but here the looseness appeared deliberate, while with Riz’s old clothes it looked like he’d taken them from someone else. The sweater was maybe too heavy, though. He was flushing hot all of a sudden.

“I like these lines,” he said, tracing the grid on his top. “It goes with my muzzle, kind of.”

“Right?! That pattern was a godsend. Now it makes the face-basket look like an accessory instead. Something you chose to wear, instead of something you’re forced to wear. Figured the pants would be a nice rugged touch, though you might need a belt, but still, I thought going large would help with the fit. You’ll probably grow back into them. Until then, you just look cuddly instead of starved.”

“You put a lot of thought into this.”

“What did I tell you? Natural habitat.” He framed Riz with his fingers. “I might have pioneered a new movement today. Predator chic! Pred couture.”

“Not sure about those names,” Riz muttered.

“Well, it’s a work in progress.  But now whoever sees you will think you’re just another stylish carnivore, assuming you stand up straight. Seriously, you always look like you’re ready to flinch. Reminds me way too much of Legosi.”

“I’m just not used to big crowds.”

“One more thing we’ll have to fix. For now, let’s go ring those up.”

When they returned to the street, the sunlight had begun to rust. Pina stretched and yawned as Riz opened his book bag and tucked the clothes inside. He still felt a bit numb from what had just happened. The total he’d seen on the cash register had not been small.

“A good deed is done in a beauty-starved world,” Pina said. “I deserve a medal.”

“Thanks so much for this, Pina. I’ll pay you back as soon as I have the cash.”

“You’ll pay me back by wearing that the next time we meet. If I see you in that ratty old hoodie again I’ll do my best to choke you with it.” Then he started, and got out his phone. “Crap, nearly forgot! Hunker down, would you? We need to commemorate today.”

The phone flipped over, and Riz felt a pulse of dread at the sight of its tiny camera lens. “Here? Now?”

“We’re not blocking pedestrians and it’s getting dark, so, yes and yes.”

“You’re not going to put this on Beastbook or anything?”

“Where any moron can gawk at it? Don’t be asinine. This one’s for my personal collection. Now take a knee or something already, I’m not going to photograph myself leaning into your armpit.”

Riz did so, reluctantly. When his head descended to Pina’s level, Pina threw an arm over his neck and pressed himself against Riz’s pelt. His body was warm, and Riz could smell his horn polish now over the muffled reek of the crowd, hear the syncopation of his heart over the traffic.

“Smile,” Pina said. Riz did, and he didn’t have to force it.

*             *             *

Riz took the steps up to his apartment slowly, the fluorescents buzzing in his ears like a swarm of wasps. The clothes had been concealed in his book bag. His smile had long faded, face gone blank. He was contemplating excuses.

“This should go without saying,” Pina had said as they’d parted, “but I’ve cleared all of this with my folks. With Bill running interference for me in the Drama Club, I can come and go as I please. So just let me know when.”

Maybe he’d thought that, since Riz didn’t have to deal with school, he had more freedom to move around. If only.

Bill was the vital part, he thought. He could ease his mother into it by saying that he’d started to meet with one of his old classmates, use Bill as cover, and from there move on to Pina. Maybe even rope Bill himself into things to vouch for him. She’d been understanding so far, certainly more so than he’d first believed. She might be glad to know that he hadn’t burned every bridge on his way out of Cherryton. Just had to keep this little present hidden. Only an oddball like Pina would spring for this kind of generosity and it was something he’d have trouble explaining.

The bland, slightly corrosive smell of Mischa’s cooking wafted from around the apartment door. She did try her best.

“I’m home,” he said, pushing open the door. The sound of laborious vegetable-chopping ceased as he slipped off his shoes. Mischa met him in the hall, blocking it like an eclipse.

“You were out a while,” she said. “I took your clothes out to the wash with mine. They’re in your room.”

“Thanks,” he said, and then steeled himself. “Actually, Mom, I was-”

But before he could say anything else, Mischa’s nose twitched. Her nostrils flared. He stood frozen in place as she advanced on him and sniffed, her questing snout sounding like an industrial steam pump. When she stepped away, her expression had shifted into a mix of bafflement, suspicion, and a dangerous hint of real anger.

“Riz,” she said. “Who were you with?”

All his rehearsed lines crumbled to dust. “One of my old classmates. He asked to get together.”

“An herbivore? A sheep?” The dark boreholes of her eyes widened. “Wait. It wasn’t that sheep, was it?”

He gripped his book bag. “I can explain.”

“Could you start with why he was wearing cologne?”

He almost burst out laughing, which would have been instantly and horribly fatal. “It wasn’t anything like that. He just cares a lot about his appearance, that’s all. He’s been seeing me a lot. Visiting me. In juvie, I mean. I wanted to tell you before but I couldn’t figure out how.”

“He called the police on you.” Now her fangs were showing. “He still wasn’t done with you after that?”

“What do you mean, ‘done with me?’ I kidnapped him! And he kept seeing me anyway!”

“Where did he bring you today? Were there police around? Did you feel like you were being watched?”

“It’s not like that, Mom! Look!” Before his better judgment could leap in, he unbuckled the book bag and showed Mischa what was inside, the clothes still crinkling in plastic. “He got this for me today! He noticed that I didn’t have any clothes that fit anymore so he used his allowance to buy me this stuff instead. He was visiting me every other week! More than-” More than you did, he almost said, and snapped his jaws around the sentence before it could escape. He could feel himself getting close to tears. “Mom, please, please understand me on this. I was going to tell you, I swear, but I want to keep seeing him. He’s one of the only friends I have left!”

Mischa’s gaze flickered between the bag and Riz’s face. Her expression had already smoothed out into stoic blankness. It didn’t take long for her to decide.

“I can’t stop you from contacting him,” she said. “Call him, text him, whatever. But you can’t see him in person again.”

“But Mom-!”

“This isn’t a negotiation, Riz. And it’s not a threat, either. I’m not promising to throw you out if you get close to this boy. It’s something you need to understand, for your own good. There are a lot of animals out there right now who’d like nothing more than an excuse to lock you back up, and the more time you spend around herbivores, the more excuses they’ll have.” Her huge, clawed hands clenched, then relaxed. “I know it’s difficult to hear this, but the life you used to have is gone now. It’s done. You need to figure out what comes next, instead of clinging to what used to be.”

Riz said nothing. He clutched the bag hard enough for the buckles to dig through his wrists. His mouth was trembling, obscured by the muzzle. Mischa locked eyes with him for another several seconds, and then turned away.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” she said, and disappeared back into the kitchen. Riz heard the steady, whispering rasp of claws being dragged across wood.

His bedroom was rickety and sparse. It had been decorated primarily by film posters he’d pinned up while he was still in junior high – thrillers and Yakuza flicks, mostly – and he’d taken them all down the second night of returning home, feeling unnerved by them, the gulf of time they represented between who he was and who he’d been. Now there was just his scarred furniture and his too-small bed, which sagged a bit underneath him as he sat down. He got out his phone and stared dully at the messages he’d missed. Pina must have sent them while he was having it out with his mother.

Pina: so that was an adequate day
Pina: seven out of ten
Pina: let me know when you’re free and we can try to do better
Pina: take care Ꮚᵔꈊ’Ꮚෆ

Riz stayed like that until the screen went dark and reflected his muzzled face. He unclipped the mask and let it drop on the mattress beside him, and then got up and silently ate dinner with his mother and then brushed his teeth and went to bed, leaving the clothes still in his bag. He had to go to work in the morning.

Chapter Text

The White Cedar Youth Detention Center equipped all of its visitation rooms with cameras and audio recorders, per standard procedure. The tapes were archived and seldom reviewed unless one of the visits turned bloody, in which case they’d be dredged up and handed off to the courts, but the center’s administrators would take a brief interest in the one for this particular meeting. There were several noteworthy details about it: the visit was between an herbivore and a large carnivore offender; it was in-person and unsupervised despite the two being involved in a violent altercation several months ago; and the carnivore was by far the more nervous of the two, crouched at the edge of the bench, limbs all pulled close to his body. The herbivore, meanwhile, was sprawled out on his end like his joints had turned gelatinous.

“Two minutes and my ass is already falling asleep,” Pina said, and yawned. “Would it have killed them to have put some cushions on this thing? They could have borrowed a few from the walls.”

Riz murmured something indistinguishable, to the recorders or Pina’s ears.

“You would not believe the hoops I had to jump through to get in here,” Pina said. “The paperwork, my God. One stack after another. They even needed my parents’ signatures on a few of them.” He winked. “But I have some experience dealing with that.”

“It’s for liability,” Riz said, barely audible. “In case you get hurt.”

“I guess the lovely creatures standing guard outside read you the riot act.” Pina inched closer to Riz. “Why do you look so surprised, then?”

“They only tell us that we have visitors. They don’t say who. I thought it was my mom.”

“She’s been stopping by often, I assume.”

“Twice. So far.”

Pina’s smile faltered. It was August 15^th, approximately eight months after Riz’s incarceration. He straightened up on the bench and got out his phone, voice turning brisk.

“In that case, my appearance here is more of a public service than I first thought,” he said. “You might want to hear the latest about your stuck-up alma mater. That lumbering oaf Bill is in charge of the club now, if you can believe it. And Legosi’s dropped out, so the high-strung rat is in charge of the lights. Not like it matters much, since-”

“The school was segregated. I know.” He stared straight ahead, his cuffed hands dangling between his knees. Again, Pina’s expression slipped a groove.

“Oh. So much for that surprise. Did someone else get to you before me after all? It’ll leave me feeling awfully foolish, but…”

“The guards talk to us sometimes. One of them told me. From the sound of it, it was my fault.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. They were contemplating it well before you and Legosi decided to have that idiotic spat on New Year’s.”

“But they forced it through afterwards. When everyone learned what I did.” His voice was soft and casual. “Do they ever talk about me?”

Pina didn’t answer, which told Riz all he needed. His frame, already much scrawnier than it had been at the time of his arrest, slumped inside his jumpsuit.

“I thought so,” he said. “Let them know I’m sorry. If they want to hear it.”

“Right now they’re all occupied with cram sessions. Everyone needs to do well on their exams to keep the club together, but it’s Bill leading them, so optimism’s in short supply.” He leaned over, phone in hand. “It’s adorable to watch their foreheads scrunched in concentration. Here, just in case you’re forgetting what we looked like…”

Riz edged away again. He was now almost halfway off the bench. Pina looked bemused.

“You know, if you want to run away from me that badly you could call for the guard. Or is it that you don’t want anyone to see the big, bad bear fleeing from a harmless little sheep?” He turned to the camera, stuck out his tongue.

“Pina, could you please leave?” There was an edge to his voice now, and the cuffs’ chain jangled as his hands shook. “Whatever point you wanted to make coming here, you made it. I’m sorry for what I did to you. To everyone. I’m sorry for everything. And you’ll all have graduated by the time I get out anyway, so you don’t have to worry about me. Just go.”

Silence pervaded the room. The camera’s leering eye watched on.

“It was hard, wasn’t it?” Pina asked.

“It’s fine. They’re not hurting me or anything. I don’t eat as much as I used to, that’s all.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Riz turned to look at him then, but Pina didn’t meet his gaze. He watched the floor, legs idly swinging off the bench. That taunting lilt had gone out of his voice.

“I remember so clearly what you told me in the bathroom that day. You’d let loose all your emotions, and devour me top to bottom.” Riz winced, but Pina went on. “Very evocative language. It got me thinking about how you kept your crime secret for all those months. I bet there’s a few herbivores in our school who think you’re some remorseless criminal mastermind. But I don’t have that high an opinion of you.” He angled his head just enough for one ice-blue eye to lance through Riz. “The secret must have hurt. Like an ulcer.”

Riz’s hands now shuddered hard enough to make the cuffs clatter like castanets. Pina sighed and reached over and laid his own hand on Riz’s, and the shaking stopped, all at once, if only because the bear had frozen from shock.

“You carnivores. I really can’t stand those ugly desires of yours. But I suspect they become even uglier if you keep them bottled up, day after day. I dread to think what might become of you if you’re left to fester alone with them in this ghastly place.”

His fingers were so thin and pale, like a chalk sketch on the mitts which encased Riz’s claws. He watched, paralyzed, as they crept up to his face and hooked around his muzzle, turning his head so that he met Pina’s eyes full-on.

“In other words,” he said, “I don’t think I’ll be leaving. In fact, I think these tête-à-têtes will become a regular occurrence. Twice a month, let’s say. You’ll have some taste of the outside world, and I can bitch and moan about the ridiculous school life that your antics have saddled me with. Sound fair?”

“Okay.”

Riz flinched after saying the word, like it had been whispered into his ear by someone else. But the way Pina grinned stopped him from taking it back.

Pina tugged on his jumpsuit sleeve. “Then get your entire butt back on this bench before it falls to pieces.”

Riz complied and Pina immediately pushed in so close that he felt the sheep’s body heat through their clothes. He fought to keep from spasming at the sensation; this was the most he’d been touched all year.

“I did a bit of incognito videography of the group recently. Just so you can see how well they’re doing. Unfortunately, we’ve shed a few third-years in the recent months, though Bill’s working on filling in the gaps. I’ll just have to trust his judgment, against the sincere wishes of my own.” He peered up at Riz, almost resting his head on the bear’s lap. “How’s the TV situation in this place?”

“Not great,” said Riz. “We get an hour a day, and we have to agree on a channel. The usual.”

“That’s a shame. But during this hour, me and my itty-bitty screen are all yours. Anything you’d like me to show when I stop by?”

“If it’s not too much trouble…Happy Happy Cooking and The Great Beast Bake-Off,” Riz said. Pina's smile stayed, but the rest of his face appeared to short-circuit around it. “What? I like cooking shows. I like cooking! I’m good at cooking!”

“Seriously?” No smarm there. He was genuinely curious.

“I cooked a lot for my dormmates in Cherryton. Curries and sautés, things like that. They enjoyed it. At least until I started over-seasoning everything.” He frowned, gave his cuffs a tug like he wanted to shake something off the chain links. “I couldn’t taste anymore. After what I did to Tem. No matter what I cooked, it was like eating sand.”

“Oh. Is that still a problem?”

Riz had expected Pina to pull away, but he moved in even closer. He’d all but nestled himself in the crook of Riz’s arm.

“It started getting better when you and Legosi found out,” he said. His voice dropped lower. “You’re right. It was hard.”

“Of course I’m right,” said Pina. “And that’s all the more reason to stay in your good graces. The moment you get out of here, I’m sure you’ll be on the prowl for the humble herbivore who sicced the law on you. You almost made an entrée of me once. When we meet outside, I’d prefer that it wasn’t for a second helping.”

“I wouldn’t,” Riz snapped. Pina’s amused look only intensified.

“Well, if you do, then at least don’t eat me raw. Make a proper dish out of me.”

“Pina.”

“I’m thinking a nice maple glaze. Roast potatoes on the side.”

“Pina, this isn’t funny.”

“Agree to disagree. But we’ve wasted, good grief, almost half an hour already. I need to show you Kai! He chews his pen tip whenever he’s struggling with a question, it’s precious.”

The room’s camera continued to film, and the rest of what it caught was uneventful. Herbivore and carnivore, the former egregiously violating the latter’s personal space, bent over the glowing lozenge of that cell phone. Riz’s body language relaxed by degrees for the next thirty minutes; toward the end, he was even leaning into Pina’s warmth. When the door swung open and the guard escorted Pina out, the last thing on the recording was Riz hesitantly touching his face with his cuffed and mitted hands, trying to recognize the shape of the smile that had formed there.

*             *             *

The open-air halls of Cherryton were a great source of pride for the school, the brickwork and Gothic window arches always kept immaculately clean. Pina brought his dates here often, which many of his peers thought was awfully brave – one of these days, they gossiped, he’d piss off a girl too much and win himself a neck-snapping tumble out the window and onto the ground three stories below. But for now, he just reclined on the stone bench, staring hazily at the clouds which passed between the archways, the dappled patterns of light and shade like prison bars.

There was a persistent noise in his ear. He turned and saw a raincloud-gray female bighorn glaring at him hard enough to etch steel.

“Were you listening to me?” she asked.

Oh, that’s right. He’d brought someone here after all. He worked a kink out of his neck, dialed up the charm.

“I got lost in the sound of your voice,” he said. “Could you refresh me on the details?”

“Nice save. But not nice enough.” The bighorn (Pina hastily flipped through his mental Rolodex of paramours and the name “Ira” sounded about right) adjusted her glare to something more sardonic. “So who is she?”

“Who is who?”

“Don’t treat me like I’m boring and stupid, Pina. Am I second-place? Third? How many other girls are on your calendar this week?”

More details about Ira bubbled to the surface. At this point, Pina had exhausted most of the ovine and caprine females who got mushy over his looks alone, so he’d been shedding girlfriends at a frankly alarming rate. The ones who remained stuck with him out of curiosity or amusement, and Ira, a second-year art student who’d apparently minored in cutting remarks, was a prime example of the breed. He thought they’d gotten along quite well, until now.

“You’re the only one,” he said. “Really, I swear! To be honest, this a rare opportunity for both of us. I’ve just been a little distracted by the play and all.” He leaned in, adopting his best “forgive me because I’m cute” expression – heavy lids, half-smile. “I trust you’ll attend, if only out of morbid curiosity?”

Ira poked a finger to his forehead and pushed him away. “You need to get better material. I have three friends who told me you pull this exact move every time someone catches you out. You’re kind of a joke these days, you know? The Horny Boy of Cherryton.”

He hadn’t heard that one before. It left him slack-jawed for a second, and Ira eagerly took advantage of his weakness.

“Before I dump your ass, be straight with me just this once, okay? Who’s the latest squeeze?”

“Read my lips: there isn’t anyone else,” he said, enunciating each word clearly.

She blinked. “Oh my God, you’re serious.”

Her surprise let Pina relax a bit. He was about to suggest a late lunch when he noticed she was looking at him with genuine pity now, and the words snagged in his throat.

“You’re trying to ask her out,” she said. “Are you really looking for something more serious than arm candy? Now, of all times?”

“You could not be more off-base if you tried,” he snapped.

“And you’re in denial about it.” She stood up, grinning now. “The Horny Boy’s got himself a crush after draining the well dry. It’s probably for the best you didn’t say her name. I’d have warned her away from you.”

“I think that well contains some more refreshment yet.” He crossed his legs and slouched, acting casual, though he definitely felt a vein throbbing somewhere near his horn. “If this delusion helps soothe your wounded ego, I certainly won’t discourage you.”

“You poor thing. Out of prospects, and with a year and a half to go. You really should have learned to pace yourself.” She gave him a dainty wave. “I’ll be there at opening night. Break a leg.”

As Pina watched her turn and walk off, he guessed that she hadn’t been entirely metaphorical.

He huffed, making his wool flutter, and sank further onto the bench. That was the end of his current dating pool. Now he didn’t have anything left to distract himself other than rehearsal sessions, which were often the thing he was trying to distract himself from.

It wasn’t that Pina was close-minded. His interests trended strongly towards females that were in his approximate species group, but he could have easily been more adventurous with his choices. Carnivores, males, it was all the same thing. He just hadn’t come across any males who particularly interested him, and the ones who might have been good for few weeks already knew of his reputation and shied away, or were seeing other animals. Kibi, for example, was bland but could have been worth a shot if he wasn’t very obviously taken. Kai had recently threatened to pitch a bucket of icewater over him and Tao if they kept sweet-talking each other between rehearsals.

And he had history with carnivores, going all the way back to grade school. It was an awkward time for children of all species when the carnivorous kids got their first growth spurts and realized that they were far bigger and stronger than most of the herbivorous ones, and that schools had strict rules in place against showing it; it marked the beginning of the battle-lines which would be drawn for all their lives thereafter, the fangs and claws of carnivores versus the institutional aegis of herbivores. But Pina had never been content to hide behind rulebooks. He’d learned quickly that, while the more aggressive carnivore kids might have liked to flex their strength over trembling herbivores, they went to pieces when someone walked towards their fangs instead of shying away from them. Six little words like a magic spell that stripped a carnivore of all their obnoxious swagger: do you want to eat me?

Pina’s schools (there had been several) hadn’t known what to do with him any more than his parents. Carnivore harassment was also against the law, but applied mainly to adults. The herbivorous students would quietly cheer him on and loudly despise him for all the hearts he broke – because even back then he’d been a regular Casanova, a tiny social tornado leaving rubble in his wake. Pina thrived on the attention. He needed to be looked at, because he had nothing besides his looks. He’d so fearlessly pressed himself up against his snarling, shivering carnivore peers in part because he recognized that he was, essentially, junk food. Pretty packaging and a sweet taste, but still empty calories in the end.

He’d never been formally sanctioned for all the trouble he’d raised. That sort of punishment was reserved for carnivores. So his just-this-side-of-average grades and penchant for drama of all kinds had eventually landed him in Cherryton, where he now sat abandoned and broke.

Yes, broke, because his shopping trip with Riz had hit his wallet much harder than he’d let on. He should have seen it coming, as even an off-brand large carnivore garment could have comfortably fit three of him. Animals like Riz spent more, they ate more, so did they at least get paid more? Pina doubted it.

He held his chin in his hands and sighed. This was why he needed someone to bother. Otherwise, he was left alone with his thoughts, and thinking never ended well for anyone. Riz had only texted him once since the weekend and his messages had been brief and oddly furtive, but Pina wasn’t about to start harassing him – he had his own problems, and it would just make Pina look desperate, which he wasn’t. He had no social circle beyond the Drama Club and even its more amiable members were getting on each other’s nerves, so that was out.

There was one other option. An absolute last resort, but at least they'd be easy to find.

Pina stood, stretched, and shook off Ira’s baseless accusations like dandruff. It was time to visit the library.

*             *             *

Cherryton’s library, located near the campus edge, was at once the oldest building in the school and one of the most meticulously cared for, giving it the appearance of a haunted house dressed in its Sunday best – a rambling, sharp-roofed three-story estate where the windows would fog but never leak, where the walls made eerie and inexplicable noises muffled by new carpet. The computer lab, periodicals, and reference materials were on the first floor, standard books on the second, rare archives on the third. The basement housed the film archives and civic records, in a quiet gray cavern of motorized tracks. Pina knew all of this, because the animal he was going to meet was the kind of spongy-soft bore who’d show off all their favorite parts of a library.

It was close enough to exam time so that the place was fairly packed, and suffused with the heavy quiet that came from serious studying. Pina breezed past the intrepid scholars and up the stairs. Tucked away in a corner of the fiction section, beside one of those perpetually-fogged windows, were two squat armchairs, sitting face-to-face on either side of an equally squat coffee table. It was his quarry’s preferred study spot, and at a time like this, there was no way they wouldn’t have monopolized it.

Pina moved among the shelves, peered around the corner, and smiled. Target acquired.

Jack the Labrador had an innovative method for studying. He’d check out books and reference materials in staggering quantities, naturally, but he wasn’t the type to leave them all in one huge stack. Instead he spread them around himself in mystical, tarotic patterns, notebooks and textbooks and printouts grouped by criteria known only to himself; he’d pluck and read and scribble from those piles, hands in constant motion, funneling data into the sizzling dynamo of his brain. While Pina would never admit it out loud, the brief time he’d spent with Jack had made it clear that the dog was fantastically, almost frighteningly intelligent. He was also a neurotic wallflower and about as exciting as unseasoned tofu, which must have worked out great for Legosi, but wasn’t really Pina's speed.

But he hadn’t made contact with Jack for the sake of entertainment. Last autumn, when the terrorist attacks had been building to their crescendo, Legosi had somehow offended the group’s ringleader and brought the full and terrible wrath of the entire black market down on his head. Louis, wary of another gangster-sanctioned raid on Cherryton, had coerced Juno into gathering all of Legosi’s close contacts into a single study hall for the night until the worst of it blew over, which had resulted in a group of very confused theatre kids sharing space with the canines of Dorm 701. They’d muddled through it, with varying degrees of anxiety, but Pina had noticed the Labrador quietly having a nervous breakdown all through the evening. It annoyed him that Legosi’s idiocy and Louis’ secretive nonsense were causing so much trouble for animals in the splash zone of their bad decisions. So he’d done something about it.

Jack was smart but he also had a backbone made of wet pasta, and it hadn’t taken much for Pina to intercept and corner him in the halls. One salvo of aggressive charm later and he’d forced the Labrador to tour the Drama Club’s rehearsal building with him, lackadaisically pointing out the stage settings, the prop storage, the lighting rigs where Legosi had worked his magic. Pina hung around others for distraction, and distraction was what Jack had needed. His twitchiness had noticeably subsided by the end of that first day, and Pina had endured a few more desperately boring social outings with the dog in the days afterward (he was a believer in finishing whatever you started), until Legosi’s crusade had nearly killed him and then convinced him to, God willing, retire from vigilantism for good.

That should have been the end of it. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

With oiled soundlessness, Pina eased himself onto the chair across from Jack’s and got comfortable, fingers laced across his stomach. He watched Jack hum and write and cast his eyes from one page to the next until, by sheer chance, they settled on Pina long enough for their owner to register his presence.

“Hi Pina,” he said, and went back to his books. “What’s up?”

Pina was irritated, but not too much. Another thing he’d learned during their time together was that Jack, while jumpy as a grasshopper in normal circumstances, could shrug off a hand grenade if he was studying.

“Just thought I’d get out of the wind,” Pina said. “Enjoying a bit of light reading?”

“Entrance exams. You know how it is. Or you will, at least. It won’t be this intense, but potential valedictorian, aim for the top, so on, so forth.” He waved a hand dismissively; even his speech changed when he got like this. “Could you hand me that one notebook on the windowsill? Green cover.”

“Can I peek?”

“If you want. You’re interested in organic chemistry?”

“On second thought, I’ll pass.” He gave Jack the notebook and Jack flipped it open, jotted down a line or two, and moved it to a new node in the pattern.

“Did you need tutoring or something?” he asked. “I should be free tomorrow night.”

“What I need is lunch. As do you, probably. Why don’t we go off and satisfy our needs together?”

“Lunch? What? But it’s not even…” He got out his phone, checked the time, and then groaned and slumped in his seat. “Not again.”

“There, you see? I just kept Cherryton’s leading light from perishing of starvation mid-scholarship.” He hopped up and took Jack by the elbow and hoisted him to his feet. “Let’s head out before the siren song of organic chemistry lulls you back to its fatal embrace.”

“You talk so weird.” He smiled as he said it.

“It’s a gift. Should we leave these where they are, or…?”

“Could you help me bring them to the front desk? I’ve technically checked them out but I keep them here, my dorm room’s just too rowdy. The library puts them to the side for when I come back again.”

“Only you would have a special arrangement worked out with librarians. Take the heavier volumes. I have a frail constitution.”

They dropped off the books and headed to the cafeteria, setting their trays on an empty second-floor table. Jack ate with small bites but pneumatic speed, daintily wiping his mouth after every few mouthfuls. It was rather hypnotic to watch.

“How’s the play going?” he asked, after demolishing his soy patties.

“It goes. Not a subject I want to discuss, frankly. It takes up enough of my headspace as it is.”

“Okay. I’ll be there, obviously, but not on opening night. Legosi’s taking everyone from 701 on the second day.”

“Really? Figured he’d drag along that dwarf rabbit girlfriend he’s so agog about.”

“He’s doing that too,” said Jack. “On opening night. And on the third night…well, the point is that he’s preordered tickets for every performance.”

“Goody,” Pina drawled. “I look forward to seeing that beady-eyed dunce in the seats while I’m trying to perform. And what about you? Have your career path all mapped out?”

“I’m going to try for public relations. Or policy development. Something forward-facing. My college applications and everything are taken care of.”

Pina raised his eyebrow. Jack had answered with casual confidence, which he hadn’t expected from their earlier talks. Back then he’d seemed almost embarrassed by his brainpower – he’d effortlessly worked out the fine details of acoustics and lighting management when Pina had shown off the stage, and almost ran and hid when Pina acknowledged it. And he hadn’t wanted to talk about the future at all, something Pina sympathized with.

“Surprised?” Jack asked, smiling shyly. “I kind of found my direction, the last few months. Before I didn’t have much else going for me other than being smart. Now I have some idea of what I want to do with it.”

“What brought that on? Please don’t say it was me.”

“No. I mean, you helped, but it was mostly…” The smile disappeared. Jack hunched in on himself, eyes darting about. It actually put Pina at ease; this was the Jack he knew. “I shouldn’t really be telling anyone about this. But you can keep secrets, right?”

Pina shrugged. “It’s been said.”

“Right. So you must already know what I’m talking about. Something that’s been kept secret from everybody.”

That caused Pina’s stomach to drop. For a second he was sure Jack was going to start talking about Riz, diagramming the entire timeline of their relationship with the same ruthless acumen he showed in his schoolwork. But what he did say wasn’t much better.

“Legosi told me a few things about those terrorists from last year,” he said. “And their leader. I think…I’m pretty sure I know his species.”

Pina hissed air through his teeth and reflexively glanced over his shoulder. Speculation or not, this wasn’t the kind of thing you wanted anybody to overhear.

The Butchers. That was what they’d called themselves, acting for years as the black market’s meat delivery service before they’d started delivering explosives instead. They’d slaughtered one of the market’s crime families overnight, and over the next two weeks nearly broke the city beyond repair, but perilously scant detail had surfaced about them on the traditional news. The group had been made up of ex-pred offenders, carnivorous sadists, and even a few herbivores, though that last part was buried as deep as possible, and even less was said about their mastermind, who’d reportedly been a national menace for decades, an arms smuggler who’d used the wealth and clout from his work on battlefields to fuel acts of stochastic terrorism across the country. He could have very well had a body count in the thousands before the authorities finally brought him down.

Except it hadn’t been the authorities; it had been Legosi, whose name was unspoken and deeds unrecognized. As for the mastermind, the official statement was that his body had never been recovered. All details about him, save for the blood on his hands, remained unknown.

“Always did wonder why they kept it so hush-hush,” Pina said. “Though it makes sense. Herbivore or carnivore, whichever it was would be held against the other side for quite some time.”

“Sure. The divide’s everywhere you look, no matter how hard we try to integrate. Carnivores have a near-monopoly on heavy labor and construction, herbivores on administrative and government offices, and then there’s the separate markets for clothes, food, medicine…and hybrids, too, one more thing that everyone would rather pretend doesn’t exist. But there’s something else besides herbivores and carnivores and the mixtures of each. A fourth category, in plain sight.” Jack pointed to himself. “It’s us.”

“Nerds?” Pina suggested, after a pregnant pause.

“Dogs,” Jack said flatly. “There’s plenty of us in mundane jobs, sure, but the police force is over half composed of dogs, with most of them filling commissioner positions. You have the All-Species Council, but the majority of government ministers are dogs. There’s a lot of rumors that the top members of Central are dogs, too. We’re made to be smart and socially conscious. It’s a greased slide that goes up, up, up.” He pointed his finger heavenward. “Even in Cherryton, the advanced and gifted classes are populated by dogs. I’m in all of them, of course. And no matter how stressed I got, I couldn’t seem to vent it properly. I couldn’t complain, or cry, or anything.” He smiled. “It ate at me. Almost made me do something pretty silly, after a while.”

Pina didn’t have any witticisms for that one. That smile and bland language reminded him far too much of Riz.

“I’m better now,” Jack continued. “Lucky for me that Legosi snapped me out of it. I felt like I didn’t have any control over my own life, understand? Like I’d had every step planned out in advance. Programmed into me. I couldn’t help but be the best.”

“There is this thing called dropping out,” said Pina. “Legosi took advantage of it, if you’ll recall.”

But Jack shook his head. “I couldn’t drop out any more than you could enjoy a steak. Just the thought made me nauseous. It’s not easy to break out of the obligations that society sets for us. Legosi did tell me a little bit, about what happened the night he fought that criminal. Not much. But it got me thinking about dogs who were in the same position I was, staring down this life the rest of society had laid down, born and bred for someone else’s benefit and not even able to feel properly upset by it, and I think that maybe some of them, some of us, just…snapped.”

Outside, clouds crept over the sun. Promises of rain.

This was what happened when you didn’t vet your friends, Pina thought dimly. A quick lunch gets you embroiled in a national conspiracy. “If you’re planning to take your theory to the newspapers or something, I’d appreciate if you didn’t mention this chat.”

“What would be the point? It’d get buried like everything else, and Legosi would probably get in trouble for it too. I’m sure he’s being watched after what he did.” Jack picked his fork, twirled it between his fingers. “But it’s given me direction, like I said. The bombs changed everything, no matter how hard Central tries to keep it quiet. The status quo can’t go on.” He watched the twinkling tines. “I want to create a society where dogs are able to cry.”

“That mission statement could use some work,” Pina said dryly. “So you’re planning to be everyone’s golden boy right up until it’s time to blow the lid on everything? Change the system from inside? Famous last words.”

“I agree. But I have Legosi. Every time I think of him, I’ll remember what I’m fighting for. And by the time I get out of college, the bombs will have become a distant memory for anyone in power…but not for me.” The fork’s rotation stopped. “I don’t think they’ll see me coming.”

Pina shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This was still the same Jack, the buttercup-yellow canine with his floppy ears and softly curved features, like a stuffed animal who’d suffered a growth spurt. The distant, calculating look in his eyes didn’t match at all. Then Jack dropped his fork and blinked, and it was over. He looked down at his empty plates like he was confused as to how they’d gotten there.

“Anyway,” he said, “that’s what’s been on my mind. Have to think of something between cram sessions, you know?”

“If you’re that badly in need of time-wasters, I could give you some recommendations,” Pina said, hand in chin.

“Haha, probably. What about you, Pina? You’re graduating next year. Are you going to stay in theatre?”

“For lack of anything better to do.” He flicked his wool imperiously. “I’m more of a live-in-the-moment type.”

“Oh. That’s okay, too. It worked out well enough for Legosi.”

“After a near-death experience or three.”

“Good point.” He nervously tapped his claws together. “It’s been a little hard to get used to. Not having to look after him all the time. He always had so much trouble getting along with others. Now he’s off living his own life and I need to keep coming up with all these big ideas to fill in the gaps.”

“Animals come, they go. Not much you can do about it.” His own mind briefly conjured a Cherryton without loudmouths like Bill and Kai wandering around and he pushed the thought away.

“That’s true. But we don’t have to stay gone.” Jack took his tray and stood up. “I’ll keep in touch, Pina! Whatever happens. If you ever need help with anything, just call.”

“God, you’re such a mother hen.” Jack grinned as Pina waved him off. “Back to your books. Shoo, shoo.”

He stayed at his table after Jack walked off, the residue on his own plates congealing. He cast his eye across the other tables. Most of them were empty. He was going to be late for rehearsal if he lingered much longer.

The few carnivores who remained here ate with the same small, careful bites that Jack had, though their fangs and claws were so much more prominent. He was certain that if he slid onto the chairs beside them and offered himself up as a side dish, they’d go to pieces on the spot. They always did, except for Riz. When his mouth had smacked over Pina’s fingers, his own instincts, that morbid herbivorous fixation on death, had made themselves fully known. The terror had been like a thunderbolt inside him. A sensation so intense that it made everything else he’d felt seem flimsy and false as set dressing. It had been that feeling, more than anything, that had compelled him to seek out Riz again. And the rest had followed.

Normally, he’d have gone to the detention center this weekend. But Riz was out now, doing whatever it was he had to do in order to keep society’s watchful eye satisfied. For one insane moment, Pina considered opening up his contacts and sending Riz another message: Do you still need me?

But reason prevailed, and he took his tray and cleaned it off. Opening night was next month and that was as far into the future as he was willing to contemplate. He headed for the club building and left these straggling beasts to their own meals, their own secrets.

Chapter Text

The two other visitation recordings of note involving Riz the brown bear were dated late January, approximately three months before his probationary release. One concerned the first meeting between him and Bill the Bengal tiger, the first visitor he had received other than his mother and Pina. Audio depicts their hesitant conversation eventually turning to expressions of remorse and self-loathing from Riz, which culminated in Bill tearfully embracing him, begging forgiveness for not coming sooner. It may be assumed that details of this meeting were later communicated to Pina, because the subsequent recording between him and Riz showed a marked change in the mood of both participants.

Over the previous five months, Riz’s hesitance towards Pina’s company had evaporated, given way to increasing intimacy – less so in Pina’s case, because he had blithely invaded Riz’s personal space from the start, but Riz no longer objected or flinched whenever Pina fell into his lap. They settled into a routine, the sheep beginning each visit with grousing and gossip about his school life before getting out his phone so they could watch the cooking shows Riz asked him to save; Riz would comment on quality and technique while Pina grumbled about obvious camera shortcuts or favoritism between contestants, becoming increasingly engaged despite himself. Riz’s lack of hostility and amiable partings with the sheep were noted in his file. But there was no such cheerfulness when Pina walked in this time, and neither animal met the other’s eye as they greeted one another. The sterile, padded chamber was tinged with gloom.

“Bill told you everything?” Riz asked.

“He didn’t have a choice. I yanked him aside within an hour of him leaving here.” Pina heaved a sigh. “It doesn’t sound like you were having a very good day.”

I’m not some poor, misunderstood kid, Riz had said, after the talk between him and Bill had taken a turn for the worse. I’m the kind of carnivore that gives the rest of you a bad name. This is where I belong.

“Riz, be honest,” Pina said. “Have you been humoring me all this time?”

“Of course not. I look forward to this. I always have, even if the first one was kind of…unexpected.”

Pina smirked a little. “No one ever sees me coming.”

“I don’t want you to think I’ve been lying to you. I’m doing okay. But I’ll admit that the sort of stuff I said to Bill is always there. In the background.”

“Backstage, even.”

“Sure. And sometimes it comes out to take a bow.” The analogy was delivered without humor. “You shouldn’t feel responsible for me, Pina. I’ve got therapists and things here to deal with that.”

“Do they actually help?”

He took a moment to answer. “They do their best.”

“I’m sure,” Pina said acidly. “Regardless, you can expect Bill and I to show up on alternating weeks, though I doubt he’ll be anywhere near as entertaining. Hopefully he’ll keep the waterworks to a minimum.”

No clear reaction from Riz. Pina cast a baleful eye at the camera’s lens, then went back to staring at his feet.

Riz said, “I turned eighteen last month.”

“I’m aware.” Pina had attempted to bring along a package of rice cakes the week of Riz's birthday, which were denied as illicit contraband. While he’d never exactly been respectful towards the detention center’s staff, this was the sole time he’d shown actual aggression. Only when he’d been threatened with having his visitation rights revoked had he backed down.

“It’ll be another two years at least before they let me out,” Riz said. “Everyone I knew from Cherryton will have graduated. You, Bill, the others from the club. You’ll have moved on. Do you really intend to keep this up all that time?”

Pina reached up and raked his fingers through his wool. On the camera feed, it was possible to see his lips moving silently, counting backwards from ten.

“Do you want me to be here?” he asked.

“Yes, but I-”

“Shut up. That’s enough, understand? You want me to be here. I want to be here. Why would I do something that I don’t want to do? You’re not a chore, or a burden, or whatever the hell you were blubbering about to Bill last week. Frankly, I find you much better company than most of the other animals I put up with on a daily basis.” He crossed his arms and huffed. “Insufferable carnivores. Do you always moan about what monsters you are because idiots like the ones in charge of this place tell you so? I wouldn’t trust them to find their front doors in the morning.”

“I killed someone, Pina,” Riz said quietly. “You can’t brush that aside.”

That silenced him for a moment. But he rallied. “I haven’t. I just understand there’s more to you than that. Maybe two years will be enough time for me to pound that simple fact through your thick skull.”

Since Pina first sat down, Riz had only looked at Pina out the corner of his eye. Now he turned to face him fully, his mouth agape inside his muzzle, like he couldn’t believe the sheep was truly there. Pina, still pouting, took out his phone.

“Since we’ve established that,” he said, “let’s get to business. Which of these inane shows do you want to see first?”

“Um. Is it okay if we just sit here for a while?” Riz asked. Pina looked at him incredulously. “Sorry, my headaches are pretty bad today. I don’t think that small screen would be good for me.”

“You want me to…stay put and not say anything?” Pina said. Riz flinched, expecting him to get up and leave, but then Pina melodramatically threw back his head and groaned. “You’re asking so much from me. Fine, but I’m going to get something out of it too. Raise your arms.”

“Huh?”

“Arms! Up! Now!”

Riz jumped in his seat and complied, lifting his cuffed wrists to chest-height, and Pina slid over until his cheek was nuzzling Riz’s side and then grabbed Riz’s hands and lowered them again. Riz sat there stunned as Pina snuggled against his jumpsuit.

“Ooh, this isn’t bad at all. Like strapping myself into a fuzzy roller coaster.” He yawned. “Nice and toasty.”

“What are you doing?” Riz asked, in a sort of squeaking voice.

“What’s it look like? I’ve had a wretched week and I froze my tail off getting here. You’d think that growing out my wool would help with the cold, but no such luck. I’m catching some beauty rest while I can.”

“Pina, I’m not sure if-”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll poke you in the eye,” said Pina. “You’re in more danger than I am right now. Give me a jostle if my horns start to bother you, alright? I’m always impaling my pillows.”

“Oh. I have the same problem, kind of.”

“See? There's another thing we have in common.” He peeked at his phone one more time. “About forty minutes left. Let’s make them count.”

Pina turned his head so that the tips of his horns were safely away from Riz. The bear was still rigid as steel for another minute or two, until Pina spoke up again, his voice already slurring from the beginnings of sleep.

“Hey, Riz.”

“Yes?”

“Remember what I said. I know that you’ll hunt me down the day they let you go free. Well, I’m not going anywhere. I won’t be far.” He reached up to Riz’s muzzle the same as he had on his first visit, but this time, he tenderly laid his palm against its side, guided Riz’s head so that their eyes could meet. “Someday, you will find me.”

He lowered his hand and curled up against Riz again. Shortly after, his breath gave way to snoring. Riz’s expression was unreadable, but before long, his posture relaxed, and his head dipped to the side. When their visitation time had expired, the hapless guard was forced to wake both of them up.

*             *             *

It turned out that Morgan the bobcat’s serrated rasp of a voice had been earned honestly; the foreman smoked more than any other animal Riz had seen. While he was considerate enough to stub out his latest cigarette when someone else was in his shack, the stench still made Riz’s eyes water. He sat on a too-small folding chair as Morgan poured a cup of muddy coffee, his nicotine-yellowed whiskers twitching.

“So, your first two weeks are up,” he said, dumping creamer packets into his drink. “How’s the job finding you?”

“I like it. It’s good to be out in the open, after…you know.”

“I sure do. You ain’t the first pred offender I’ve worked with by far, so don’t be coy about it. I don’t give a shit who you chomped on.” Guilt flashed across Riz’s face, but either the muzzle obscured it or Morgan didn’t care to notice. “Been getting on alright with everybody?”

“I’ve mostly been hanging around Wes. He’s really nice.”’

“Yeah, I’ve seen him fussing over you. No complaints from me about that. Gimme a whole crew full of brown bears or grizzlies or whatever you want to call yourselves. I’d have these jobs finished in half the time.”

“There’s someone else, though. A Komodo dragon. I forget his name.” Riz fidgeted as Morgan stared at him mid-slurp. “I kind of get the feeling he doesn’t like me much.”

Morgan grinned around his mug. “Gosha? Get the fuck outta here. That old lizard’s the biggest softy you’ll ever meet. He even volunteers at a daycare when he’s not busting his ass for me.” He set the mug down and wiped his mouth, then extracted a file from a nearby cabinet. “He actually came by to ask about you when I first introduced you to everybody, for what it's worth. I don’t blame you for getting the wrong idea. You know how it is with reptiles, most of ‘em are about as expressive as a damn doorknob.”

“Okay. Glad to hear it. But I haven’t had any problems.”

“I haven’t had any problems with you, either. Feel like staying on?”

“My mom wants me to go back to school, but if you’ll have me until then…”

“You do what you’re told, you don’t slack off and you’re the size of a brick shithouse. I’d be an idiot to drop you just ‘cause I can’t have you all year. Be prepared for the summer. The heat’s a bastard for someone with a pelt like yours.”

He withdrew an envelope from the folder and slapped it on the desk in front of Riz, beside the overflowing ashtray, and watched him expectantly until Riz took it. He felt the outline of bills through the paper.

“In my experience, pred offenders don’t always have their bank accounts in order right away. So this one’s in cash,” said Morgan. “Get yourself set up for direct deposit by the next one, though. Saves me on paperwork.”

“I will. Thanks.”

“Thanks nothing. It’s your money, you earned it.” He took another gulp of his coffee and squinted out the shack’s tiny window; it was a cloudy Friday, the sky the color of nickel. “What time is it?”

Riz checked his phone. “Quarter after three.”

“Good enough. Take the rest of the day for yourself.”

“What? But I still have to-”

“There ain’t nothing you can do out there that someone else can’t. Don’t expect this to happen again, either. I’m just giving you a chance to spend some of that pay.” He leaned across the desk and winked. “If you decide to, y’know, treat yourself, then stay on the main road, yeah? The market’s calmed down a lot the last few months but it ain’t someplace you should wander.”

Morgan hadn’t been subtle, but it still took a second for Riz to put together what he meant, and a second longer to act like he was grateful for the advice. He bobbed his head like it was held up on strings. “Right. Sure. Thanks.”

“I’ll see you on Sunday, then.” He produced a lighter and yet another crinkled cigarette packet. “Keep it up.”

Riz stepped out of the shack and back into the clanging site. None of his coworkers gave him a second glance. Wes hadn’t been lying; no one here was particularly wary of him, not even the herbivores. He wondered what they might have thought about Morgan recommending a trip to the black market so casually.

He sought out Wes and told him about his early departure (Wes replied with a backslap that very nearly planted Riz facedown in the dirt), clocked out, and soon after was wandering the city streets, the envelope snug in the pocket of his coverall. After a few blocks he ducked beneath an awning and slit the envelope open with his claw, counting the cash. It was all there; Morgan had even included a paystub to confirm it. Riz guessed he’d gotten lucky in that respect. There were probably all sorts of shady employers ready to exploit animals in his situation.

Well, he had money. Not a lot, definitely nowhere near enough to get a new wardrobe, though he figured there might be a few thrift stores worth checking out. Besides that, he had no earthly idea of what to spend it on, now or in the weeks to come. Riz had never been much of a party animal to start with – he liked cooking, movie nights, maybe the occasional trip to B-Strike where he could rake his claws across wood the same way his mother unconsciously did. What little socializing he did was with his dormmates or with the Drama Club, none of whom he'd really thought of as friends, keeping a safe distance from all of them, wary of the damage his strength could cause. Then he’d met Tem, and disaster had struck, before he could have ever really considered the alpaca a friend at all.

Riz sighed and fished out his wallet, tucking the money inside, and then set off again, in the vague direction of home.

Recreation seemed pointless anyway. This muzzle was a soft barrier between himself and all those social spaces, attracting the attention of other animals like iron to a lodestone. Despite Pina’s enthusiasm for the idea, muzzles weren’t considered accessories; no law-abiding citizen wore them to look stylish. They were something you strapped on for the protection of others, voluntarily or otherwise, and anyone who glimpsed one instinctively felt a tingle of danger in their blood. Despite the casual indifference of his counselor and his coworkers, he felt eyes on him everywhere he went.

He’d become keenly aware of it lately, this society’s apathetic, capricious surveillance. Not too different from what he’d experienced in Cherryton, just more wide-ranging. No one cared about you so long as you stayed quiet and out of the way, but the authorities still watched all the time, collating files and notes. They weren’t even that careful about hiding it. If you had someone’s name and species, there were plenty of unscrupulous websites that would happily serve you up their personal info with a few quick searches, easy as looking for a restaurant. Riz, in a moment of weakness, had logged onto a public terminal last week and ran one such search for Tem and his family – it hadn’t been difficult, he’d simply needed to cross-reference the obituaries. He’d been rewarded with an address that was halfway across the country. Tem’s parents had gone, taking their grief along with them. He’d logged out and gone home, his shame like a hot ball in the pit of his belly.

That was life on probation. Walking through the open maw of the world, between its quivering jaws. Constantly wary of the moment when it would bite down.

He missed Pina.

A large family (or possibly small colony) of groundhogs waddled towards Riz from the other end of the sidewalk, and both he and the Siberian tiger walking next to him stepped aside to let them pass. The tiger gave the tiny mammals a meaningful glance, and then rolled his eyes at Riz, in what he probably assumed was a moment of sympathy. Riz didn’t say anything.

Pina was different from any herbivore he’d ever met. Most herbivores enjoyed the respect and protection afforded to them by the law, while Pina seemed to actively resent it. And while Tem had been outspoken, Pina took it to unexplored, borderline-suicidal heights; Riz doubted anyone in the Drama Club would forget his introduction to them all, sashaying into the building to taunt every carnivore in attendance. The brewing hostility between the carnivores had evaporated in that instant, all focused directly on him, who’d cheerfully soaked it up and shrugged it off, and Riz had come to believe that this had been an intentional maneuver on his part. Small wonder that he’d been scouted to join the Drama Club, infamous for being packed with oddballs and eccentrics – he was a flirty, flighty outlier from every preconception about carnivores and herbivores alike, a living act of defiant spectacle. Next to him, some shy bear with a muzzle became practically invisible.

The days they’d spent together in juvenile hall had been a welcome respite for Riz, but when he’d met Pina again outside, it was the only time since his release when he’d felt something close to normal. Pina had deflected all these staring eyes and browbeat anyone who’d even looked like they were going to question Riz’s presence with him. It wasn’t as though Riz needed someone to protect him that way, but it had been nice to see that there was someone who cared enough to try.

And he’d screwed it up. Been so focused on fooling his mother’s eyes that he’d forgotten about her nose. Mischa had ruled her household with a soft but unbreakable grip for as long as Riz could remember; she never raised her voice, but her proclamations had all the inevitability of a sunrise. He didn’t want to go to war with her, in any case, and not only because he’d be in serious trouble if she threw him out. She worked herself to the bone, without joy but also without resentment or complaint, and he’d tried to be a dutiful son in return. He’d already failed at that in the worst possible way. Defying her now would only compound his error.

He knew this but still couldn’t let it rest. A long-distance relationship with Pina wouldn’t last. The thread was too tenuous, Pina too easily bored; it would snap and he would drift away, without drama or fanfare, and Riz would be left with his restricted future stretching out before him like endless tundra. He needed to play the long game, somehow. Get back into his mother’s good graces (if they were even there to be found), convince her to let them see each other again while also keeping Pina satisfied. But where to start? Puzzling over it was already making his headache flare up. He should have brought some honey with his lunch.

Riz halted, suddenly enough for a zebra couple to nearly bump into his backside. They stepped around him warily as he looked over his shoulder, brow furrowed in contemplation. He’d passed by a grocery a couple of blocks ago.

“That could work,” he said, too quietly for anyone to hear.

*             *             *

The tofu cubes were the color of burnished gold, a crisp outer skin that yielded to pillowy softness. The hue contrasted well with the garnish, the bright green onions and pale sesame seeds, and the pearlescent bed of rice upon which they rested. The aroma was acceptable – while Riz thought that he’d maybe gone too heavy on the soy sauce, its slight acridity undercutting the honey’s sweetness, his mother didn’t appear to care. Pleasure did not come to Mischa easily or obviously, but the way she hunched over her food and the small grunts she made between bites were encouraging signs.

“I hope it turned out okay,” Riz said, his own bowl mostly untouched. “I haven’t done this in a while.”

Mischa licked her chopsticks. “I was thinking about just buying cup noodles for dinner before you texted. What a waste that would have been.”

Riz beamed.

“What did you say this was?” she asked, tucking another cube into her mouth. “Honey and chili?”

“Honey-sesame, but there are some chili flakes in there too. I made this a lot for my dormmates in Cherryton. Figured that since I always had honey on me anyway I might as well share it every now and then.”

“I hope they didn’t take you for granted.” She pointed at his bowl. “Eat, Riz. It’s your cooking, for goodness’ sake.”

“In a minute. It’s nice to watch you enjoy it.”

“You’re just like your father. Whenever he made dinner, he’d call me to the stove every ten minutes to taste-test. Not that I complained.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“You were so young. To be honest, I barely remember the taste either. But you might already be better than him. Certainly better than me. I’m the type who’d burn soup.”

Riz didn’t confirm or deny. He picked up his chopsticks and ate.

He’d been worried at first, while putting this together – worried about forgetting an ingredient, forgetting the steps, losing his touch. Worried about what the act of cooking might remind him of. In his final year of Cherryton it had brought back his warped recollections of Tem, the Tem who’d warmly smiled and waited for Riz’s jaws to close over his neck, and if that false memory had returned to him today then he doubted he could have even touched a knife. But instead, as he’d chopped and drained and mixed, he’d thought of Pina during that first visit, when Riz had indignantly told him about his love of cooking and the sheep’s smugness had briefly given way to curiosity. It was only for a moment, but Riz held onto that image, and little by little, his movement across the kitchen became more confident.

“Have you ever thought about culinary school?” Mischa asked. “I’ve heard kitchens aren’t too different from where you’re working now. They don’t discriminate as long as you can do the job.”

He stopped mid-chew. “Er, well. Cooking professionally is a lot different from doing it at home.”

“It’s still an option. You should keep it in mind.”

“Okay. And I could start making dinner on my day off, too. It’d be a treat for both of us.”

She ran her finger across the bottom of the bowl and sucked off the leftover glaze. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He had to restrain himself from pumping his fist. “Let me know if you’re in the mood for anything in particular. I'd be fine with experimenting.”

“Then experiment. I'm certainly not picky.” She pushed her empty bowl away. “Do you still have the receipt from your shopping trip?”

“Sure, it’s in my coverall pocket someplace. Why?”

“Leave it on the counter. I’ll give you the money tomorrow.”

“Huh? No, Mom, that was my-”

“My apartment, my kitchen, my groceries. You put them to better use than I would have, anyway. Just don’t go buying anything too extravagant and I think we’ll survive.” She'd returned to her usual flat affect. “You know, Deep Night is next week.”

“That food festival they have on the full moon? I’ve never gone to one.”

“Why not start, then? I hear the prices are reasonable enough. And you should treat yourself a little bit.”

 “Do you want to come with me?”

“I don’t have the energy, Riz, you know that. Haven’t even been to a restaurant in God knows how long.” She tilted the empty bowl like she was expecting to see her reflection there. “But this was nice. Go and do something nice for yourself.”

Either Mischa was preparing some devastating sneak attack or this had gone better than he’d ever believed possible. He gobbled down the rest of his dinner (it was stone-cold but he hardly cared) and took his mother’s bowl. “I’ll clean the dishes.”

“Thank you,” she said, and he nodded and went to the sink. “Riz?”

He paused with his hand on the faucet. “Yes?”

Mischa turned her eyes to him, black and unyielding as cast iron. “I can trust you to be responsible about this, right?”

“Of course.” He didn’t pretend not to know what she meant. But as he scrubbed and dried, his mind was already whirling with possibilities.

Deep Night. He hadn’t anticipated that at all. It was away from the school, it would be busy enough so that even he could fade into the crowd, and the smells of all the food on display would coat his clothes and disguise the scent of any other animals – especially if he could convince one of those hypothetical animals not to cuddle up to him every two minutes. He could use the cash to treat Pina to something for a change, tide him over for a while, and continue buttering up his mother.

Despite his good mood, Riz’s temples had started to throb again by the time he returned to his room. Carnivores weren’t suited to all these clandestine social games; tiptoeing around everyone’s wants and needs and true intentions was how herbivores interacted, though evidently not all herbivores. With this one, direct and to-the-point was the only option.

He took out his phone, did a quick bit of research, and opened the messenger.

Riz: Hello Pina. Sorry to text you so late.
Pina: omg you really are an old man, it’s not even 8
Pina: what’s up

Riz nearly fumbled the phone. Pina had fired off that response so fast that he hadn’t even gotten halfway through his follow-up text.

Riz: I wanted to let you know that I have money now. From my job I mean.
Pina: yes i assumed
Riz: I’d like to pay you back for that shopping trip. Do you want to go to Deep Night with me? It’s scheduled for Monday evening and one of the locations isn’t too far from Cherryton.
Pina: monday? i dunno. i’m pretty busy that day, and rehearsal might run late, and oh my goodness my entire schedule just cleared right up!
Pina: how did that happen?????
Riz: Lol?
Pina: Ꮚ⁼ꈊ⁼Ꮚ
Pina: what time works for you
Riz: It starts at moonrise so maybe 7? I have to go home and change first.
Pina: you’d better be wearing that outfit i bought
Riz: So I’ll see you there?
Pina: oh i’m p sure i’ll see you first  Ꮚᵔꈊ’Ꮚෆ
Riz: Ok. Goodnight Pina.
Pina: show me a bear emoji!!!
Riz: Ok??
Riz: ʕ´•ᴥ•`ʔ
Pina: yep that’s you all right
Pina: goodnight riz

This would work, Riz thought, as he set his phone aside and left the room. He knew the mistakes he’d made with Tem, misunderstanding their relationship, rushing into it too quickly. But that wasn’t the case with Pina. They’d had almost a year to learn about each other, and there were no mixed signals where Pina was concerned – sure, he got bewilderingly comfortable with Riz, but he did that with absolutely everybody, all the time. Riz always had the muzzle to remind him of the consequences of thinking otherwise.

He went into the bathroom (and he would swear the tub gurgled as he crossed the threshold, like it was plotting mischief), retrieved one of his medicine boxes from the cabinet, and carefully separated a pill from its blister pack, grimacing a bit as he worked it out of the plastic. Riz never understood why the manufacturers of a strength-blocking drug would make their packaging so finicky. It was insult on injury.

The apartment still carried the scent of honey sauce. He checked in the living room, thinking to watch TV with his mother for a little while, but she’d already dozed off on the couch. He carefully turned down the volume and crept back to his bedroom and opened the closet, where the clothes Pina had bought him hung – at least he hadn’t been so depressed as to leave them in a wrinkled heap. He smiled and laid down on his bed and watched the cracked and runneled ceiling, the warmth of his secret blooming inside him.

Chapter Text

On February 4^th, visitor Pina (Dall sheep) was requested to speak with White Cedar counselor Vivian (rough collie), after a concerning pattern of behavior involving his visits with inmate Riz (brown bear). It was emphasized to Pina that, while his conversation would be recorded for archival purposes, the interview was strictly voluntary and could be terminated at any time. An excerpt of the interview is as follows:

Pina: Is this about what happened with those rice cakes? You certainly know how to hold a grudge.

Vivian: It isn’t, though that did subject you to closer scrutiny by the reformatory’s administrators for a little while. There’s just been some questions about the intimacy you’ve been displaying towards Riz over the last several months.

P: Yes, I’m sure you’d be far more comfortable if I was mumbling to him over one of those cruddy phones instead.

V: In-person visits between herbivores and inmates aren’t unprecedented, but the degree of physical contact and sentimental language you’ve shown with Riz is cause for concern, especially given his treatment of you prior to his incarceration.

P: Sentimental language?

V: On multiple occasions, you’ve stated that he will attempt to locate and eat you upon his release. You phrased this as though it were somehow aspirational.

P: Do you take everything so literally?

V: Historically, when herbivores interact with carnivores in this fashion, it can be based in self-destructive impulses. We simply want to ensure that-

P: [interrupting] If I wanted to “self-destruct,” as you put it, I’d cover myself in mint sauce and walk into the black market. Excuse me for having a sense of humor about this whole idiotic situation.

V: Pina, would you describe yourself as anti-authoritarian?

P: I’d describe myself as devastatingly handsome. Next?

V: You’ve shown strong distaste with the carceral state. Riz’s rehabilitation depends on his trust in this reformatory to help him, but it’s become clear that he trusts you as well. If you continue undermining us during your conversations with him, it could create setbacks.

P: I speak with Riz in a padded room the size of a large closet, with him muzzled, cuffed, and looking like there’s a raincloud hanging over his head. Unless the rest of this place is vastly more luxurious, I think a little distaste is more than justified.

V: Those measures are taken for the safety of visitors like you.

P: Exactly. So it goes for this entire facility, and all the ones like it. They’re not here to help the animals inside, they’re for the satisfaction of the ones outside. We all sleep so much better knowing that these monsters are kept under lock and key! Except you do have to release them at some point, having thoroughly convinced them they’re to be shunned and neglected, and what do they do once they’re out? They go to the black market. Or maybe they go uptown with some high explosives tucked under their clothes, hmm?

V: I understand your disillusionment, especially after that tragedy last year. But your depiction of institutions like these is uncharitable. Riz did devour someone – someone whom I understand was close to your other friends, as well. Would they breathe easier knowing that he was walking free, before this reformatory believed it was safe for him to do so?

P: And how much longer do you think that will take? How many years? It’s asinine. I had a taste of your much-vaunted “safety” when Cherryton was segregated. It was maddening. Stifling. And if it had gone on much longer, then mark my words, it would have ended in disaster. If you force someone into a little box, then it’s only a matter of time before they’ll claw their way out. That’s what happened with Riz. He was quiet and unassuming like all of you wanted him to be, until, all of a sudden, he wasn’t. Do you think slapping a muzzle on him and cooping him up here will change that?

V: So you’re keeping up these visits for Riz’s benefit?

P: I’m doing it for myself. Are you suggesting that I need to get my head examined because I enjoy spending time with a carnivore?

V: No, I’m not. We’d just like to be clear about your motives. Again, he did assault you prior to coming here.

P: You could say that it started as obligation, me being the one who put him here and all, but now it’s solely for my own pleasure. Everyone needs variety in life.

V: And if Riz should ask you to stop coming?

P: Riz isn’t the one sitting with me in this stuffy office right now. If you’re so against it, then you’re welcome to call my school or my parents…except that would raise a few questions about why you took so long to raise the issue. It’d make for an entertaining discussion, no doubt.

V: We have no intention of contacting third parties at this time. And speaking for myself, Pina, I believe that your presence here is good for him. But that’s only true up to a point. His mental state is much more fragile than you appear to believe. And he will eventually need to start looking towards the future, while you continually remind him of a life that he can no longer have. I only ask that, in future interactions with him, you keep his long-term rehabilitation in mind.

P: Are we done here?

V: As stated earlier, you’re free to leave whenever you wish to do so.

P: Then we’re done.

*             *             *

The Drama Club’s schedule was usually thus: the club’s head (Bill, or an irascible Kai if Bill was absent) would start with roll call and the itinerary, followed by a fifteen-minute period of free discussion between actors and crew, and then rehearsal and cleanup, ending with extra practice or instruction for individual members if needed. In the early days of a production, that free period was often used to unwind or goof off before everyone got down to business, but as opening night approached, the club’s discussions became more intense and technical. For this show in particular, which was now less than a month away, the chatting students now looked less like amateur actors and more like generals preparing for war.

Tao, Zoe, and Silvie had monopolized a corner to themselves for a week now, mostly so the former two could assist the latter. Their roles were Igni, Anem, and Undine – the Three Elementals, foot soldiers of the Powers-that-Be who were tasked with striking down Adler and reclaiming Wander from her grip. Their lines weren’t difficult but their choreography was the most intensive of the whole cast, save Adler herself, and Silvie, an Arctic fox and the club’s most junior actress, was having trouble handling it. She cut a gorgeous figure, sparkling like freshly-fallen snow, especially when placed next to Tao’s jet-black fur, but that distinction had only made her stage fright worse.

“I know it’s a cliché, but I can’t understand my motivation,” she said, clutching the script in her claws. “Els says I’m doing okay but all my moves feel wrong. Should I be angry, or more, like, robotic? We’re basically just following the bad guys’ orders, right?”

“You shouldn’t overthink it,” said Tao. “Everyone’s going to be more interested in the swords clanging off each other than the actors swinging them.”

“I hear you, but I want to take that extra step. Not to show off or anything. This play’s supposed to be a really big deal.”

Tao gave Zoe a worried glance, his tail lashing. Bill’s earnest, fervent enthusiasm to make Adler a success had rubbed off on everybody, especially the newbies.

Zoe said, “I was Undine a couple years back. Well, Odie, but they changed the name. Louis told me that we should be feeling disgust towards Adler more than anything. We’re forces of nature. Adler’s defying the natural order of life and death. What she’s doing should not be. That’s how he described it.”

“Sounds like him, all right,” Tao muttered.

“So, what, should I be pulling faces or something?” Silvie asked.

“Definitely not that. We should make it obvious in our swordfighting instead. Merciless. Not giving Adler any time to breathe.”

“You think Juno could handle it?” said Tao.

“Have you seen Juno lately? She’s as perky as she was the day we started this. That wolf’s got energy to spare.” He turned back to Silvie. “Honestly, I think you’re doing really well for your first role. I was tripping over my own feet for weeks on that choreography.”

She smiled at that. “I did a lot of dance in junior high.”

“It shows. Just keep your moves steady and don’t ham it up onstage too much. Tao’s the only one that really has to flex, with Igni’s death scene and all.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll do my best. And I wanted to say…it’s really nice here. Never seen herbivores and carnivores helping each other out so much.”

“Yeah, stereotypes don’t really apply in this place,” said Tao. “You should’ve been around when Louis was still head actor. Terrifying bastard. Right, Zoe?”

Zoe mumbled under his breath, massaging his cheeks. Silvie gave him a puzzled look but didn’t pursue the matter any further.

Bill and Kai sat at the edge of the stage, reviewing their notes. Despite Kai’s frequent oaths of homicide towards Bill for the way he’d micromanaged the production side of Adler, they made a pretty good team – Kai juggled all the different aspects of stage management with begrudging but impressive skill, and Bill knew him too well to take any of his temper tantrums personally.

“Costume parade’s set for tomorrow, the Music Club wants to meet on Thursday,” Kai said. “Do you still want to save the dress rehearsal and dry tech for the week before opening night?”

“It’d be nice if we could get two runs in,” Bill grumbled, flipping pages. “Vim is up for it, but the band’s got their own stuff to deal with.”

“I know a couple guys in there. I could try to talk them around.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

“Posters are ready for printing, too. You really want to go with three designs?”

“Yeah, I think it’ll stir up more word-of-mouth. The Lamplighter one especially, that looks great. Just gotta hope it does as well onstage.”

Kai gestured with his clipboard at Mina and Moro. “They ran a demo with me over the weekend. In this gaffer’s opinion, I think we’re solid.”

The Lamplighter was Aoba’s big role – the mysterious and reclusive arbiter of all creatures’ lifespans, dwelling amidst an endless field of candles that were lit or doused according to the dictates of the Powers-that-Be. When the Flame Elemental, Igni, deals a fatal blow to Adler, she directs Wander to the Lamplighter, in hopes that he will re-light Wander’s flame and allow him to escape to the realm of the living. Wander spends the next act journeying to meet him, but pleads with him to kindle Adler’s flame instead, setting up the play’s finale.

During the initial brainstorming sessions, Kai, who’d become far better at stage lighting than he’d ever wanted, had proposed the idea of a backcloth that would be poked full of holes so that light could shine through, giving the impression of the Lamplighter’s innumerable candles. It had been tricky to find enough fabric of the right color and opacity, not to mention mounting it in the background, but Kai seemed optimistic about the final effect, and optimism from Kai carried a lot of weight.

“Speaking of which,” Kai said, “I’m gonna shimmy up and see if Lamar needs help. It should be alright, he’s been doing pretty well by him- hey, Lamar, what are you doing?!”

Kai hopped off the stage and pattered to the ladder in the room’s far corner, Bill trailing behind him. The barn owl had descended and was waddling away with a distant, shellshocked look in his eye. When Kai ran up to him, it took a second for him to react.

“Hey Kai,” he said vaguely.

“Lamar, what the hell? We’re starting in five and we need you on lights!”

“I know. I just. Need to stand over there. For a minute. By myself.” He tottered past Kai, towards an empty space near the mirrors. Kai watched him in genuine bafflement. Lamar was high-strung, but he always snapped to attention whenever the mongoose was around.

“What’s his issue?” Kai said. “Don’t tell me he’s finally lost it with only a few weeks left to…oh. That’s why.”

“What?” asked Bill.

“Look. He got ambushed.”

Bill followed Kai’s pointing finger and quietly groaned. Rylan was also coming down the ladder, ears swiveling and swaying, her laptop under one arm. Without making eye contact with anyone, she pushed open the room’s exit door and eased it shut behind her.

“Guess it was finally his turn,” Kai said. “I’ll work the lights myself if he doesn’t snap out of it in time.”

“What do you mean, his turn? What’s she been up to lately?”

Kai shrugged and mimed a zipper over his mouth. “Wish I could tell you. Track her down and ask her yourself if you want, though I bet you’ll be finding out soon either way.”

“Kai, seriously, should I be worried about this?”

“I don’t think so. But man, this club, huh? We sure are a bunch of freaks.”

He eyed the shut door, leaving Bill even more confused – Kai’s constant bitter grumbling about Rylan had ceased about a week ago, though he, like everyone else in the club, was strangely reluctant to talk about her. Lamar stayed put, pressing his feathery forehead against the bricks like a naughty child in time-out.

Juno watched Rylan go. The wolf and Pina had been taking up each other’s time exclusively for several days now, which had several of their clubmates silently fearing for Pina’s well-being, but he’d been incredibly agreeable, even friendly – which was, if anything, far more disconcerting. Any compliments from Pina normally had a poisoned barb tucked inside, but over the meetings last weekend he’d entered the room with an actual spring in his step and delivered gentle but incisive critiques to several of the other actors. It creeped them out.

But Juno wasn’t prying, at least not right now. She was rehearsing the Powers-that-Be monologue, the big showstopper and Bill’s largest and most drastic alteration of the script, and it was not gentle on the throat. She had to save her voice.

Pina leaned over and skimmed her script. “All set?”

“Pretty much,” said Juno. “Any tips?”

“The last few times were acceptable, but make sure to nail the crescendo on that final line. Emphasize the parallel between it and Tao’s. Though your throat’s going to be terribly raw at that point…”

“I’ve been doing my breathing exercises, don’t worry.”

“Yes, and I imagine wolves have a built-in vocal advantage already, what with the howling and all,” said Pina. “Go for broke. And remember to emote! You’re going to have that mask clamped over your face, so every other part of you has to make itself heard.”

“I’ve actually been drawing off that one rehearsal you did a couple years back. Remember, when you really belted out Wander’s opening lines?”

Pina remembered better than most. That “performance” had been his show of defiance towards Riz, wh had just cornered him in the bathroom and promised to eat him head to toe. The adrenaline that had still been surging through Pina when he’d seen his fingers disappear into Riz’s mouth had been poured into those lines, and left him gasping and beaded with sweat.

“Was that a one-off?” Juno asked, head tilted. “You haven’t chewed the scenery like that since then.”

“Different context. This Wander’s not the type to lose his cool so easily.” Pina flipped his wool and winked. “Better to play it off with quiet conviction instead. Ease the audience into what’s coming.”

His phone went off, making him jump. Juno frowned.

“You’re supposed to turn that off,” she said.

“I know, I know, just a moment.”

Pina held the phone close and turned away. He’d received a new message.

Riz: Are we still on for tonight?
Pina: naturally. rehearsing now. shhhhh

He swiveled back, tucking the phone back into his pocket – and then went stiff when he noticed Juno’s stare. She’d fixed those big wet eyes on him with laser intensity.

“Okay, I wasn’t gonna ask, but now I have to,” said Juno. “What’s up with you lately?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I have never seen you smile like that before.”

Pina hastily rubbed his face to scour the expression away. “Perhaps you should’ve been paying closer attention.”

“You’ve been walking on air all weekend, Pina. Who were you-”

But then Bill’s handclaps scythed through the room, silencing all conversation. Rehearsal had officially begun. Pina silenced his phone and didn’t meet Juno’s gaze for the rest of the meeting, not even when he felt it burning a hole into the side of his head.

*             *             *

After rehearsal was over, Pina headed for the males’ locker room and luckily ended up its sole occupant. He took his time with his uniform, straightening his tie, smoothing his vest. He had about two hours before his rendezvous with Riz, which he figured to be more than long enough to pop back into his dorm room and make himself more presentable. The sunlight streaming through the window went redder; it was going to be a cool evening, clear skies, everything in bloom and turning fragrant. He’d decided on honeysuckle horn polish and wool conditioner for tonight – sweet and nostalgic, a perfect complement to this weather.

Rehearsal itself had gone well enough, considering how distracted he’d been – not just by his schedule, but by Juno’s probing, accusatory stare. Pina knew from the start that Riz’s release was going to complicate his social life, but keeping it under wraps was becoming a real chore. He’d leapt on Riz’s latest invitation because it was the first time the bear had actually asked him out without Pina needling him to do so, and turning him down would have probably not been good for Riz’s state of mind, but if it had been anyone else, Pina told himself that a rain check would have been for the best.

Oh well. No taking it back now. If he was going out, he’d do it looking flawless.

He checked his wool in the mirror, humming tunefully under his breath, and then turned on his heel and walked out the door and ran smack into the twin sentries of Juno and Els, the former with an unspeakable grin on her face.

“I thought I smelled sheep,” she said. “Shall we pick up where we left off?”

Pina rolled his eyes, turned around, and found himself facing down a solid wall of hyena standing between himself and freedom. Tierra’s dark, liquid eyes stared down at him with neither judgment nor mercy.

Pina gulped. “Hello, Tierra.”

“Hi, Pina.”

“Could you let me scoot past you really quick?”

“Sorry, Pina.”

He made another pirouette, this time taking aim at Els, who flinched under his betrayed expression. “Els, truly? I thought you were above this sort of tedious gossip.”

“Juno did kind of rope me into it,” Els said. “But one of the underclassmen I know was talking about how you had this big crush on somebody and you were keeping it a secret. I’m really curious!”

“Underclassman?” Pina blinked, then bared his teeth. “Ira.”

“I’ve also heard that your dating pool’s finally dried up,” Juno said smugly. “We’ve had to put up with your Casanova crap practically since the day we met, Pina. Did you really think I wouldn’t chew on a bone like this?”

“I’m curious too,” Tierra rumbled. “Though mostly I’m just happy to be invited.”

Els gave her a thumbs-up. “You’re doing great, Tierra!”

“Ira’s a scorned ewe who’s spreading rumors because I wasn’t sufficiently scintillated by her dull conversation,” Pina snapped. “I’m between dates at the moment. So what? It’s not like I have time to focus on anything but this club and my classes anyway.”

“Then where have you been going the last few months, Pina?” Els asked. “I heard some of the other sheep talking about how you kept leaving campus. We just figured you were doing…stuff…with other females, but now…”

“Looks like there’s one in particular who’s captured his heart,” Juno said, crossing her arms. “She a townie, Pina? An older female, maybe?”

“If you must know,” Pina said, “I’ve been visiting my mother.” Juno’s smug look faltered, and Pina felt a little jolt of triumph; he’d kept this line in his back pocket for emergencies. “She’s a homebody, you see, and still isn’t quite used to having her little lamb away at school for so long.”

“Little lamb,” Tierra repeated, in a way that suggested those words would echo in her head for some time.

“If you’d like to go out and spread the word that I’m a big mushy mama’s boy, then be my guest. It can only help to mend my reputation with Cherryton’s females.” Pina let the silence trail out for a few seconds. “Was there something else?”

Juno was barely holding on, but she shook her head and attempted one final charge. “Then who were you texting before-”

Bill’s head poked around the corner. “Juno! There you are!”

All of them jumped; Tierra nearly put her head through the ceiling. Bill strode forward like a siege engine, and gave Pina a brief and withering glare before turning his attention to Juno.

“Kai and Kibi are staying late to prep for the dress parade. They wanted to go over a few details about the Adler costume with you, if you’ve got a minute?”

“Oh. Uh, sure.” She cast one final suspicious glance at Pina, but then broke away and strode back down the corridor. Bill walked past him like he wasn’t even there, up to the hyena.

“Tierra, we have to talk. What the hell is going on with Rylan? I know she’s not slacking off, but this creeping-around stuff is getting ridiculous.”

The hyena sighed. “Alright. She said it was okay to tell you if you asked. But I think she wants to see you herself soon, anyway.”

“At least this way it won’t be a surprise. My office?” She nodded, and Bill looked back at the remaining two stragglers. “What’s up, Els? You need something?”

Els squeaked and shuffled in place. “Er, no! Nothing. Sorry to be in the way.”

“It’s cool. See you tomorrow.”

Bill led Tierra away, leaving Pina and Els to share each other’s exquisitely awkward presence.

Pina cleared his throat. “I should go.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Els bowed her head like she was hoping for a noose to descend from the ceiling and snatch her away. “Sorry about all this, Pina. Send my best to your mother.”

“I’ll pass it along. Goodnight, Els.”

It was a bitter irony, Pina thought as he left her behind, that Els, in any other circumstance, would have been the ideal animal to confide in; she was kind, open-minded, and not one for idle chatter. Except that Tem had apparently been interested in her, and Els had been especially hard-hit by his untimely demise. If – when – Pina’s relationship with Riz finally became known, he had little doubt that several bridges would burn as a result, and Els’ would burn the hottest and brightest.

Forget it. Put it aside. He still had a busy evening. He made it to the front doors, emerged into the dusky sun, and had taken no more than a dozen steps before his phone went off. It was a message from Bill, short and sharp as a dagger: See me behind the building. Now.

He deeply, truly contemplated deleting the text and going on his way, but Bill had bailed him out from Juno’s ambush, so he settled for making some incoherent and altogether undignified noises as he stomped around the building’s perimeter and toward its rear exit, where the trashcans were kept. Bill was already there, tapping one claw on the lids, an irregular syncopation that seemed to counterpoint the twitch beneath his eye.

“Is this really the best place for a chat?” Pina asked as he approached. “That day-glo fur of yours will stand out a bit.”

“We’ll make it quick.”

“Done with Rylan already, then?”

“Rylan is my problem,” Bill growled. “Just like he was supposed to be yours. Except everyone is getting wise to it now, which makes it my problem, too. What the hell happened to being discreet?”

Pina’s fists clenched. “Nobody knows anything. If you want to blame someone for all this, blame that bighorn bitch Ira and her loose lips. Telling everyone that I have some kind of secret paramour just because I dumped her. If I ever get my hands on her then I’ll shear her myself.”

“Yeah, except that she’s right,” Bill said, and now Pina’s eye was twitching, too. “I think you’re fucking nuts for feeling this way about him, Pina, but whatever, Legosi was the same way, it’s nothing new. Except the wolf at least worked it out himself! What’s it say about you if Legosi figured this shit out before you did?”

“Careful,” Pina said, through grit teeth. “If you’re seriously suggesting that a lunkhead like you can see how I feel about anything-”

“Of course I can see it. Everyone can see it! Everyone except you, which is probably why you’re so terrible at hiding it!”

“You’re the one bellowing about this in the open air. There’s nothing for me to hide.”

“For the love of…” Bill clapped his hands over his face, breathed deep, and let them drop again. “Okay, you never get to call me stupid again, understand? Because this is a level of clueless I didn’t think was even possible. Have you really done this touchy-feely bullshit with everyone for so long that you don’t know what an actual crush feels like?”

“I don’t know when you last shared the company of a female who didn’t want to vomit near you, but let me give you a reminder.” Pina was spitting every word now. “Dates, romance, crushes, call them whatever you want, but they’re supposed to be fun. Diverting. Entertaining! Everything I’ve dealt with since the day he was let out has been work. You think I like having to evade our nosy clubmates in between maintaining his mood? I do what I can to get some enjoyment out of it, but otherwise-”

“You want to talk about work? Let’s talk about work.” Now Bill was closing in on Pina, his stripes bleeding away into the deepening gloom. “Why do you think I’ve been busting my ass for this play, huh? For myself? The honor of being a high school drama club president? No, I’m doing it for all of you. The whole time the school was segregated I had to put up with everyone, carnivores and herbivores, laughing about how stupid we were for still trying to stay together, and I knew they were wrong but I still didn’t say shit. Because I couldn’t prove it.” His voice was quaking now; to Pina’s bafflement, he seemed to be on the verge of tears. “Well, next month I’m proving it. I want this whole school to see how incredible you all are. You got a word for those kinds of feelings? Because there’s only one that I can think of.”

“How incredible we are, hm?” Pina smirked and pointed at himself. “All of us?”

“That’s what I said,” Bill snapped, and Pina’s face collapsed. “It really kills me to admit this, Pina, especially now, but you’re not an asshole. Assholes wouldn’t do what you did for Legosi, or Jack, and especially not Riz. You’re a good guy, alright? Better than I was.” He winced as if those words had caused him physical pain. “I don’t get why you’re so hung up on keeping that a secret from everyone else. Can you tell me? While we’re spilling our guts out here?”

Pina said nothing. He couldn’t seem to stop looking at Bill. He tried to reconcile this exhausted, pleading tiger with the witless jock he’d taunted the first day he’d walked into the Drama Club, or with the clumsy sap who’d cooed over that baby chick with him and Aoba last summer. The Bill that Pina thought he knew had gone far away all of a sudden, to the point where Pina couldn’t see him at all. Had he just been rooted in place all this time? Where did that leave him now?

He stayed mum long enough so that Bill evidently gave up. He backed off, drummed on the trashcan’s lids, scratching his cheek with his other hand like he was trying to dislodge fleas.

“Whatever,” he said. “But you need to get your shit together, and fast. The closer this bombshell drops to opening night, the worse it’s going to be.” He walked off. “Have fun on your date.”

“Go chase some yarn, you stripy lummox,” Pina said. Bill didn’t rise to it, and Pina couldn’t really blame him. It hadn’t been one of his better lines.

*             *             *

Deep Night was one of the cornerstones of metropolitan living, a city-wide smattering of pop-up food markets that were set up every full moon, weather permitting. Some animals considered it a benevolent twin to the black market and all its illicit cousins, not just for the food it sold but the overall atmosphere – Deep Night markets were awash in light and color just like the black market’s main thoroughfare, the vendors cheerfully hawking their wares to anyone who’d pass by, but the lights were softly glowing paper lanterns instead of glitzy, menacing neon, and the food didn’t drip gore onto the countertops. Many of the festival’s locations, this one included, were set up on the edges of public parks or other open spaces, and it wasn’t uncommon to see animals strolling on their periphery beneath the full moon, savoring the warmth of whatever they’d eaten as the stalls’ aromatic scents were carried on the breeze.

Pina had gone to these a few times, always with a female on his arm, so he felt oddly naked as he walked up to the market’s gate alone. Luckily, it wasn’t long before he found who he was looking for. Riz towered over almost everyone else here, and he wasn’t exactly trying to be stealthy either, his muzzled snout nervously darting this way and that. Pina thought about sneaking up on him again – it was one of his favorite pastimes, watching carnivores jump as an herbivore got the drop on them – but some quiet and neglected part of him suggested that Riz was jumpy enough already. So he stood still about ten paces from Riz until the bear’s head stopped turning, then smiled and spread his arms wide.

“Here I am,” he said.

“Pina! You find the place okay?”

“It’s kind of hard to miss. Much like yourself.”

Riz strode toward him and then stopped like there was magnetic repulsion keeping them apart, and Pina sighed and closed the distance himself, gripping Riz’s arm. He showed more resistance than usual – for a moment Pina thought the bear was going to fling him away – but he acquiesced after a second or two.

“How do I look?” Riz muttered, tugging the neck of his new sweater.

“Can’t say. Let’s drag you into the light, shall we?” Pina tugged him along. “Fair warning, I skipped dinner. I’m planning to get your money’s worth out of this evening.”

“That’s fine. I checked the prices and everything’s pretty cheap.”

“Let’s start with dango! Soft and sweet.” They were past the main gate now, into the seething crowds. Pina’s stomach growled. He wasn’t normally a big eater, but one night of indulgence wasn’t going to kill him.

“I could go for a bubble tea, myself,” Riz said.

“With a straw, I assume,” Pina said flatly. Riz shrugged with his free shoulder, tried to grin. “Suit yourself.”

These marketplaces were stimulating enough so that scarcely anyone gave the two of them a second glance, not even the badger vendor who prepared Riz’s drink. Pina got his dango and a couple of vegetable cakes and they found a table (Riz plucking up one of the large-carnivore stools for himself), munching as they watched the shoppers come and go. In the park beyond the marketplace, the full moon had just begun to breach the treeline.

“How are they?” Riz asked, sipping his tea. Pina had already devoured two of the dango.

“I’ve certainly had worse.” He swallowed, took a bite of the veggie cake. “Should have grabbed a drink for myself to wash the taste out.”

“What would you like? I can grab it.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I’ll get a water bottle or something.”

“This tea is really good. Sure you don’t want one for yourself?”

“I should be careful about how much I splurge. Have to watch my figure! My looks are all I’ve really got going for me, after all.”

Riz fell silent at that, shoulders slouching. Pina wiped his mouth with paper napkins and frowned at Riz’s muzzle.

“What exactly are you planning to eat?” he asked. “There’s not much that’ll fit through the mask.”

“It’s okay. I had a couple of sandwiches before coming here. Tonight’s supposed to be for you.”

Pina paused around his latest mouthful, then put his food aside and leaned forward. Riz’s cheer wilted at his expression.

“Riz,” he said, quietly but firmly. “Enough is enough. That thing synergizes wonderfully with your new top and all, but it’s insane to keep it on in a place like this.”

“There’s herbivores everywhere, Pina. Including you! I can’t-”

“We both know you’re not going to hurt anyone. And anything I eat will taste like shit if you can’t enjoy it, too.” Pina stopped short for a second; he hadn’t actually intended to say that last part, but it sounded true enough. “Come on. If you won’t do it for me, then do it for yourself. You deserve better than this.”

Riz’s cup creased around his hand, and he quickly set it down before he could crush it by accident. Pina wouldn’t stop staring him down, and after a few seconds, he swallowed hard and reached for the straps on the back of his head. But his hands were shaking, his fingertips slippery from the tea’s condensation, and he couldn’t work the clip free; as his movements became increasingly aggravated, Pina could see the diners nearby giving them looks, making worried gestures. He slapped the table and stood up.

“This is genuinely pathetic to watch,” he announced. “Let’s see if I can’t do better.”

He sauntered around the table before Riz could protest and pushed his hands aside, examining the muzzle. The diners around them relaxed. A carnivore struggling with his muzzle was cause for concern. An herbivore helping a carnivore with his muzzle was merely cause for confusion.

“Good grief, are they sure they made this thing elaborate enough? It’s downright medieval. Let’s see, pop off this bit here, pull this here…bingo!” The buckle slid free, and Pina patted Riz on the shoulder and returned to his seat. “Go ahead and shove it in one of your pockets, God knows those pants have enough of them.”

When he sat down, the muzzle was still on, its straps all dangling free. Riz slowly reached up and pulled it off. The fur around his snout was mussed and creased from the mask biting into his flesh and he pawed at it for a moment, smoothing himself out, and then smiled at Pina, careful not to show his fangs. The lantern’s weak light fuzzed the edges of his face, making him look as though he’d been rendered in watercolor.

“Here I am,” he said.

Pina had curled his fingers under his chin in feigned expectation, like he’d been waiting for the dustcloth to be pulled off a sculpture. But when Riz smiled, he stayed locked in that pose, long enough to make Riz fidget.

“Everything okay?” Riz asked.

Pina blinked. “Yes. Finally. Was that so hard?” He snatched up his remaining cake and devoured it in two chomps. “Now we can get on with our evening.”

But Riz wasn’t in any hurry to get up. He held his tea in both massive hands, and muttered into the straw: “You’re wrong, by the way.”

“About what?”

“There’s more to you than just looks, Pina. You’re really smart, and kind. And brave.” His voice lowered further, so that Pina had to strain to hear. “After all, you weren’t afraid to see me.”

Pina scoffed. “How many times have we been over this? I wasn’t afraid because you weren’t frightening.”

Riz looked up at him then – though not really, Pina realized. Instead he was staring over Pina’s shoulder, like he was watching for someone in the crowd. Pina glanced back and saw no one that he recognized, and then Riz’s gaze had already dropped again.

“That’s not what Tem said,” he said. “I tried so hard to make everyone think I was harmless. He was the only one who saw through it. Knew what a monster I could be. And I proved him right, in the end. I’m sorry, but I can’t help thinking of him when I see you.” He laughed a little, with bitter nostalgia. “Neither of you were afraid to say what was on your mind.”

He fell silent, apparently expecting another quip. But Pina had suddenly become interested in the woodgrain of the table, and when he spoke, his tone had gone solemn.

“Riz, don’t take this the wrong way,” he said. “But did you ever think that it might have been better if I’d never visited? It seems like I bring up a lot of bad memories, whether I want to or not.” He brushed away a lock of overhanging wool. “Maybe it would’ve been easier if you’d just left there with a clean slate. Put all this behind you.”

Riz’s smile was gone now. He took a deep, thoughtful drink of his tea before answering.

“You’re not the first who’s told me that,” he said.

“I can imagine.”

“But it’s wrong. In more ways than you know. The truth is, Pina, I’m pretty sure you’re the reason I got out at all.” Pina looked at him incredulously. “I’m serious. All those visits influenced the parole board. And I heard that there was some kind of interview where you told the detention center that they shouldn’t keep me there for so long.”

“There was,” Pina muttered. “If I’d known they were actually listening to me, I’d have told them put up some nice curtains or something while they were at it.”

“I still don’t know what’s going to happen to me,” Riz continued. “What I should do. Where I’ll end up. But for tonight, at least, I’m really glad that I’m here. With you.”

The words sank in like pebbles dropped into a pond. Pina tried to say something, and only produced a kind of stammering noise that he deftly turned into a condescending chuckle.

“Please let that be the sappiest thing you say tonight.” He got up, snapping the dango stick between his fingers. “Now come on. That was just an appetizer.”

They took their time, as the moon continued to rise over the Deep Night market. Pina bought a water bottle that Riz stored in his pockets for safekeeping; there was ample room for it, along with the muzzle, which barely formed a bulge in his pantleg. They sampled fried bananas and spring rolls and a red-bean soup that Riz liked so much that he licked his bowl clean and doubled back to the vendor to ask for the recipe, to Pina’s amusement. Riz told him about the cooking he’d done recently, and his mother’s suggestion of a career in it. Pina said that he’d have to try Riz’s food for himself before he could pass judgement. Something for another day.

The crowds didn’t grow any thinner, though the hour grew late – Deep Night ran until well after midnight, if supplies lasted. Pina keep close to Riz, enough to brush him with wool and horn, but didn’t quite smother him the way he had at Samoyed Street. Several times he would take Riz’s wrist for a minute or two and then let go and step away, like he’d remembered that he had to be somewhere else. Riz didn’t notice. He kept rubbing his face between snacks, as if to remind himself that the muzzle wasn’t there to get in the way, and the more he ate, the less self-conscious he became. He stopped taking small bites. His fangs glinted when he grinned.

The two of them finished with some hot milk to settle their stomachs and then drifted away from the market and into the park. It was just the two of them on the paved walkways, passing through the pools of light cast by the electric lamps, those intervening spaces of light and shadow. Pina walked beside Riz, looking down at his shoes.

“That was great,” said Riz. “I had no idea what I was missing.”

“You’d think Cherryton would have organized a field trip to one of those things. Though I suppose they can’t make the outside world look too tantalizing.” Pina yawned. “Here’s hoping that I can fit into my costume tomorrow.”

“Let me know how opening night goes. Zootube will probably have some cell-phone videos of the play, but it’s not the same.”

“Very true. I’ll keep you updated.”

Riz ambled along, hands cupped at his waist, like his happiness was a candle he was sheltering from the wind. “I wasn’t expecting everyone there to be in such a good mood. You could tell the vendors were really proud of what they were selling, even though they do it every month.”

“Maybe you should set one up someday,” Pina said. “Free dollop of honey with every purchase.”

Riz laughed, his fangs shining in the lamplight. He took another several steps until he was at the edge of that latest circle, the borderland of light and shadow, and turned to watch the marketplace’s glittering color in the distance. The moon hung like a diadem over them both.

“Thanks for doing this with me, Pina,” he said. “I’m not sure when we’ll be able to go out together again. Things are getting kind of busy at home. But I’ll keep in touch, okay? I hope tonight was good enough to last both of us for a while.”

No answer.

Riz turned and saw that Pina was standing at the opposite edge of the isle of light, unsmiling, hands loose at his sides. He looked the same as he did the moment of Riz’s arrest, when Riz had glimpsed him between the police cars’ hysterical pulse.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Do I have food on my face?”

Pina said, “I love you.”

The wind picked up and set all the trees to rustling. It carried the smell of the marketplace fare, a tinge of gasoline from the streets beyond. Pina’s wool billowed about his face like gauze. Riz’s grin had disappeared, eyes gone wide. He clutched his stomach and took a step back. And then another.

“Riz?” Pina said. Riz turned and ran. “Riz, wait!”

But he didn’t stop. Pina watched him pass beneath the lamps until the darkness swallowed him completely. He sighed and leaned against the post and buried his face in his hands. And the twinkling lights all around him – the streetlamps, the marketplace lanterns, the headlights roving cars and buses, and the gentle orbit of the moon and stars overhead – continued to shine as they always had, oblivious and uncaring.

Chapter Text

On the night it had all gone wrong, Riz had walked the school corridors to his rendezvous with Tem, the waxing moon streaking his path with silver. He’d been free of his medicine and his headaches for the first time with months and felt so incredibly light that he thought he could’ve stepped out the window and walked on those moonbeams, traveling up to the stars. The connection he’d built with Tem had felt terribly fragile until that evening, but now, Riz had thought, he’d have the chance to make it more substantial. Something lasting.

But Tem had reacted with fear instead of understanding, and Riz’s grip had been too hasty, and his claws had pierced Tem’s flesh like rice paper and released the most tantalizing aroma. Every inch of him, beautiful inside and out. There’d been a bellowing in Riz’s stomach, twisting his thoughts. He’d wanted that connection. To hold Tem so close that he would punch through Riz’s own pelt and make them one, banishing the loneliness and the migraines once and for all.

He had been delicious.

Riz ran through the park, and instead of pavement under his shoes he heard the squeal of school-hall linoleum. The gaps between trees through which the moonlight streaked were Cherryton’s archways. Beneath the stabbing stitch in his side, the thunder of his heart and the raggedness of his breath, his belly rumbled and roared.

Something had stirred in him when Pina had said those three words. The monster he’d tried so hard to bury. He’d ran before it could wake up fully and look through his eyes at new prey, and kept running until his breath was a bandsaw running across his throat, ignorant of the night-strollers who hastily stepped aside to let him pass; he glanced behind him and didn’t see Pina try to follow, but now everywhere he looked the twists of moonlight solidified into that pale and crumpled shape.

The street was in sight now, with its procession of headlights and gasoline smell, but he was all sharp edges, claws and teeth built to rend. Had to cover them up. He leaned against a tree, still fighting for air, and patted down his pockets in search of the muzzle; he felt a lump and squeezed but was met with the crackle of Pina’s water bottle, and he whimpered and searched again and finally found it. He rammed it over his snout, secured the buckle, started to fasten the clip, and that was when his traitorous stomach finally rebelled.

He couldn’t undo the straps quickly enough. The mask was halfway off before everything he’d eaten that night came up in a great loose stinking rush. His vomit pooled around the tree roots and spattered the front of his sweater, and he vainly tried to shake and wiped the muzzle clean as it doubled and trebled in front of his watering eyes. He was close to actual tears. Spoiled. Everything spoiled.

The sour smell that crawled down his nostrils when he put the muzzle back on nearly made him puke again, but he forced it down and staggered to the train station. Other animals gave him wary looks but no one got out their phones that he could see, and he passed through the turnstile and went to the platform before they could get a better look at him. The train arrived and he blinked and its entryway became the steel double doors of Cherryton’s lecture hall, and once again his stomach roiled; he shut his eyes and stepped into the car and secluded himself in its corner, facing the wall, away from the others. He gripped the strap so hard that the plastic warped, the passengers’ stares pinholes of heat in his back.

Riz staggered home, eyes forward, taking shallow breaths to fend off the stench of his own sick. He couldn’t think about Pina, or the camera phones of everyone he’d just passed, or these curled pale shapes haunting the edges of his vision. His only concern right now was getting home and cleaned up without waking his mother. Everything else could come after.

He ascended the stairwell of his apartment building like a convict at the gallows and fumbled the key into his apartment’s lock, listening hard. No murmur of the TV, which meant that Mischa was properly in bed. Her senses were razor-sharp, but if she didn’t stir, then he should be all right.

The apartment was dark as a cave, and his night vision swam as he tried to adjust from the fluorescents outside. Smells of old coffee and cup noodles. He took slow steps, remembering the location of every creaky floorboard – and then his gut rebelled again.  He cracked his toe against the molding as he dashed to the bathroom and shut and locked the door, then clawed off his mask and flung up the toilet seat and bent down. Nothing came up this time except syrupy strings of mucus but the sound was lengthy and rich, and by the time he stopped, he could hear footsteps outside. Mischa’s voice came through the door, still foggy with sleep.

“Riz? Did you just get home?”

He spoke with fake cheer that bordered on hysteria. “Yeah, Mom! Sorry if I woke you!”

“What was that just now?” She knocked. “Are you sick?”

“I think I might’ve eaten something bad at Deep Night, is all. But I’m okay!”

His reflection stared at him in the moment before he pulled open the medicine – eyes bloodshot, fur scraggly and unkempt, snout caked with congealing puke. Mischa still wouldn’t leave as he grabbed his pills and tore off a row of the blister packs, trying to scrape it open with trembling claws. The pills slipped from his hands, landed at the bottom of the empty garbage can.

The pills piled high in his dorm’s stewpot. The dancing flames as he soaked them in cooking oil and set them alight. The awaiting moonlit bridge, soon to be marked by knuckle and fang and claw, and the graffiti patterns of fresh blood.

You and I are going to have the fiercest friendship the world has ever seen.

It was like that fist had struck him in the stomach all over again. It dropped him to his knees and he hunched over the toilet and heaved, heaved, nothing in him left to throw up but his hateful body convulsing anyway as if it meant to expel everything he ever had or ever would eat, like the monster inside was trying to rip himself free of him even if it had to tear his innards out through his gullet, and his scrabbling claws left grooves on the porcelain and the knocking on the door grew louder and his mother’s voice more frantic and finally he shoved himself away from the toilet and towards the bathtub, lying half-in half-out with his soiled muzzle inches away, and as he gripped the cold tap there was a loud crack as Mischa pushed the door hard enough to snap it free of its lock, the sound quickly replaced by the gush of water. Riz pushed his head under the bathtub faucet and let it soak his scalp, make him clean, his mother’s hands rubbing his back.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

*             *             *

After midnight that day, a brief but hard rain fell, tapering off to overcast skies. The newscasters were optimistic about sunshine later in the day, but that was little comfort to the construction crew, who were stomping around a site turned to gluey mud by the downpour. Riz, for his part, barely noticed.

He had to work. That was the explanation he’d offered his mother before slinking out of their apartment that morning – his bout of “food poisoning” might have been intense, but he couldn’t call out sick without notice, not so soon after getting hired. Mischa, who’d already tamped down her distress from last night (she’d stayed up with him until he’d been ready for bed, stopping just short of tucking him in) hadn’t been pleased but was unable to argue, and so he’d eaten a bland breakfast and gratefully fled.

His true reasons were, of course, more complicated. He needed to keep himself busy so his thoughts couldn’t spend the day chasing each other, growing more hostile and feral all the while – wondering about what would happen with Pina, with Mischa, with himself if any wayward photos of his disheveled state showed up on the wrong social media feed. The construction site was one of the few places where no one looked at him with suspicion, and that alleviated his worry a little bit, would get him through the day and into the next, where maybe all these problems wouldn’t appear so insurmountable.

Today he was digging ditches for laying pipe – simple, repetitive, and probably backbreaking for anyone who wasn’t built like he was, but he pulled the shovel free easily despite the sucking mud, hurling it away in wet clumps. He was mostly alone on this corner of the site and tried to focus on the movement of the shovel, but Pina’s face kept drifting into his thoughts, the expression when he’d confessed to Riz. The sheep had appeared genuinely shocked at his own words. Riz might have been good at fooling himself, but there was no denying that statement of Pina’s had been absolutely sincere. If nothing else, the fact that he hadn’t contacted Riz since that night was proof enough.

He drove the shovel’s blade into the earth, tore free another dripping clod of mud, flung it away. When had this all transpired? At what point did Pina’s feelings towards him go from his usual flirty nonsense to something deeper? There’d been moments in juvie where Riz had thought things were getting a little more intense than Pina’s usual fare – that day when he’d snuggled up and fallen asleep on top of him was a standout – but he’d written that off as escalation, Pina getting bored with his normal kind of teasing. That’s who he’d always been, from the day he’d arrived in the drama club. He lived to get a rise out of others.

The shovel rose and fell faster.

Except that he hadn’t been doing that to Riz at all, had he. That had ended after his very first visit. Since then, Pina had humored him, in his irritable and roundabout way; for all his griping about the shows Riz liked to watch he faithfully brought in new recordings every time, and only unleashed his famously sharp wit when Riz was being too hard on himself. To say nothing of how he’d behaved once Riz had been released, badgering him to meet up, acting like it was strictly out of boredom and then bending over backwards to accommodate him once they’d actually reunited. The signs had all been there, the emotions choked back, until Pina had been forced to blurt them out all at once. If Riz had noticed them earlier, would things have turned out differently?

It was Tem all over again. He’d ruined it, all over again.

A sharp whistle sounded off beside Riz and he almost broke the shovel in half from shock. Wes towered beside the trench, his pantlegs claggy with mud. His normally affable features were clouded with concern.

“You alright, kid?” he asked.

“Hi Wes. Yeah, I’m fine. Just digging here like Morgan told me.”

“You’re going a mile a minute. Pace yourself, okay? It’s not a race. Especially with all this damn mud.”

“Sure. Sorry.”

Wes nodded and walked off, and Riz returned to work. Five seconds between each shovelful seemed reasonable. This length of the trench would be finished by lunch and then he’d see what Morgan needed him to do next. Hauling the pipe, probably. Laying it down so that someone like Wes could fit it in. Then evening would roll around and he’d clock out and go home and smooth things over with Mischa, and go to bed early because he was still tuckered out from last night and today wasn’t going to help things any. And his phone would be silent, and he wouldn’t receive new messages no matter how often he checked, because Pina was smart enough to know when something was a lost cause, but he’d wish Riz well, he wouldn’t blame him for anything, he’d likely blame himself for a little while but he had the club and his girlfriends and his whole life ahead of him and it would be forgotten by the summer. A wistful memory. Everything good now in memory. All of Riz’s best days behind him. Nothing now except the muzzle’s grip and the headaches’ throb and was this how he would always be? His affection lashed to his appetite, having to choke himself off to keep his fangs from burying themselves into another’s flesh? The loneliness, this loneliness would last forever…

The shovel drove itself into the earth with a meaty chunk. Blood bubbled around the blade.

Riz flung it away and staggered back, the scream rising in his throat. But before he could make a sound, rough hands gripped him by the elbow and scruff, and someone spoke into his ear. The voice was a rusty hiss, dimly familiar.

“Listen close and do exactly what I tell you,” it said. “Close your eyes and press your tongue against the roof of your mouth. Now.”

The command was senseless but he grabbed onto it like a raft in a riptide. The world went dark as he obeyed.

“Good. Now take a breath through your nose.” Riz did so. “Deeper. Until your lungs feel like they’re about to burst.” Colored spots flashed in the darkness behind Riz’s eyelids as he sucked in air. “Now let it out through your mouth, keeping your tongue where it is. Do it slow.” Riz exhaled. “Do it again.” He did it again. “Again.” He did it again. “One more time.”

After the fourth breath, Riz’s heart had stopped hammering. He no longer felt unmoored from himself. But he still didn’t dare open his eyes. Not unless he was told.

“Feeling better?” asked the voice.

“A little,” he said.

“Then hold still.”

Some kind of liquid was spritzed on his cheek and down his side, its smell sharp as a knife-blade. A moment later, the hand rubbed him down with a rag, with quick brisk movements like waxing a car. He was so nonplussed that he opened his eyes on sheer reflex, and saw the voice’s owner – Gosha the Komodo dragon, his mottled blue-green scales like jewels in all this muck. He holstered his antiseptic bottle and stuck the rag in his coverall pocket. His gaze was hard but not without pity.

“Old army trick,” he said. “The breathing thing, not the disinfectant. That’s just me being diligent.”

Riz nodded, slowly. “Thanks. I’m okay now. I, uh, should probably get back to work.”

“Leave that where it is,” Gosha said, as Riz reached for the shovel. “We’re going to see Morgan. You need to get out of here.”

Now the panic rose up again. “What? No, I can’t leave. It’s not even lunchtime yet, the boss will-”

“The boss will swallow whatever lie I feed him,” said Gosha. “But you can’t work today. That trick ain’t permanent and it’s only a matter of time before you freak out again. I’ll fix you up and send you home.”

He started off, beckoning Riz with one claw. Gosha’s tongue lashed in and out as he scanned the site, to the point where he rubbed his mouth like he was trying to keep it in; eventually he spotted Morgan wandering under the girders’ shadows and waved as he sauntered over, a stoop-shouldered Riz in tow.

“How’re you liking this weather, foreman?” he asked.

“It’s peachy, thanks for asking.” Morgan’s eyes flicked suspiciously between him and Riz. “What’s this about? You finished digging already?”

“I think he went at it a little too hard. Big fella was ready to keel over,” Gosha said smoothly. “Think I ought to see him home.”

Morgan’s fangs glinted. “The hell? I could stand losing him, but the both of you? Today’s enough of a pain in my ass as it is. I need bodies.”

“Sorry,” Riz said, hanging his head. “I went to Deep Night yesterday. I think I ate something bad.”

At that, Morgan and Gosha exchanged a look.

“Did he now,” Morgan said flatly.

“Sounds about right,” Gosha replied.

“Fine. Remember that you’re only getting paid for hours worked, Riz. Don’t make a habit out of this.”

“I won’t. I’m sorry.”

“Maybe cool down on all the apologizing, too. Actions speak louder than words, and all that happy horseshit.” He approached Riz, and though the bobcat barely came up to his navel, Riz nearly flinched – but then Morgan smirked from under the brim of his hard hat. “Told you that you had the wrong idea about this scaly bastard.”

He went to harangue someone else on the crew. Gosha jabbed an elbow into Riz’s side. “Let’s get going before that ten-foot teddy bear Wes sees us and gives me an earful.”

“Where are we going?”

“Corner store. There’s a couple things that’ll do good for someone in your condition.”

Riz opened his mouth to ask what those things were, exactly, but Gosha glared and his mouth snapped shut again. The lizard was a head shorter than him, but something about his posture struck Riz as deeply intimidating, like a half-conscious threat display. Not to mention the eyes themselves. Whenever those beady pupils focused on him, Riz was struck by déjà-vu. He couldn’t shake the feeling they’d been previously acquainted somehow.

They hit the streets with clods of mud still falling from their pantlegs, Gosha’s tail lashing back and forth. Riz couldn’t get a read on him. He’d stopped him from making a spectacle of himself at work – the panic attack that had been coming may well have gotten him fired – but still seemed irritated by his presence. Or maybe not. He wasn’t the best at judging reptilian body language.

Either way, he’d relaxed some when they got to the store, which was completely ordinary – cold drinks, magazine rack, ATM’s ranked out front. Riz waited awkwardly by the magazines at Gosha patrolled the shelves, humming to himself. He popped open the drinks freezer, reached for a can of Yuuhi beer, then frowned and shook his head and grabbed a cola and a barley tea. He added a pack of mints at the register, paid, and guided Riz back out front, and then held out the bag to him.

“There you go,” he said. “The soda’s for me.”

Riz took the tea and mints and held them in his palms like ancient artifacts. “How will these help?”

“It ain’t proper medicine, but it’ll hold you over well enough.” Gosha popped open his can and took a swig. “Barley tea’s good for settling the stomach. Mints will keep the meat-drunkenness at bay.”

He said it offhandedly, without judgment. But when the meaning of those words sank in, Riz felt the first tinge of real anger he had in a while.

“I didn’t go to the black market,” he said.

“Kid, I understand if you want to keep it quiet, but it’s no business of mine how you spend your-”

“I didn’t,” he snapped, fierce enough to make Gosha’s eyes widen. “Even if I wanted to eat meat, I’m on probation. Why would I risk going to the market? It’s not like I could hide myself in the crowd. What happened back there…it wasn’t food poisoning. But it wasn’t meat, either.”

Gosha stared him down, his drink still half-raised to his mouth. Riz was sure that the old lizard would scoff at him and leave, comfortable with his assumptions. But then Gosha sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He suddenly looked much older.

“Here I thought I was being helpful,” he said. “Appears I’ve made a fool of myself instead.”

“It’s fine. You did help, when I was digging.” He glanced at the tea. “And I was thirsty anyway.”

“You mind humoring me, then? Filling me in? Or is it too personal?”

The truth burned in him like acid reflux. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Oh, I can keep more than one, no worries.” He pointed down the street. “There’s a bench where I like to sit sometimes when I stop by this place. We can chat there. Hopefully it’s empty.”

The bench in question was set some distance away from the rest of the sidewalk, near a shuttered and anonymous storefront with an awning that was still dewy with moisture. Its droplets plinked off the tips of Riz’s boots as he and Gosha sat down, Gosha carefully guiding his tail into the gap.

“Shabby spot, but no one bothers me here,” he said. “Reptiles have a knack for hunting down secluded places like these.”

“It’s nice.” Though they weren’t too far from traffic, pedestrian or otherwise, the sound didn’t seem to reach them as clearly as it should have. Like this spot was just a bit out of step with the rest of the world. Riz reached for the straps on his muzzle, then looked to Gosha. The lizard gave him an affirmative nod and he nodded back and undid the clip, put the muzzle in his lap. The tea was bitter but he drank deep.

“Careful not to inhale the stuff,” Gosha said as Riz slurped from the bottle. “So what’s this about?”

Riz wiped his mouth, the guilt creeping back in. This was never going to be easy no matter how many times he told it.

“Do you know I’m a predatorial offender?” he asked.

“Morgan was coy about explaining, but yeah, everyone on the site figures you ain’t wearing that mask for the hell of it.”

“I used to be in a boarding school. Cherryton. I ate one of my classmates.” He tried to say it as neutrally as possible and it still gouged him on the way out. “His name was Tem. You might have read about it in the papers.”

“I recall something like that, yeah.”

“Last summer, when I was in juvie, another one of my classmates started to visit me. An herbivore, a Dall sheep. He kept me company every couple of weeks. We’d never been close before but he’d been sort of strange when I knew him in school, so I didn’t think much of it. It went on like that until I was released, and then we saw each other again, a couple more times. I really did go to Deep Night yesterday. I went with him. We had fun. And then, when we were walking outside the festival, he told me that he loved me.” He paused, forced himself to finish. “And my stomach growled.”

Riz stared dead ahead as he recited all this, like he was confessing to the teeming throngs of apathetic pedestrians. But after that last line, he made turn and look at Gosha. He expected bafflement, maybe even disgust, but Gosha’s features had softened considerably. He motioned for Riz to go on.

“I ran away,” he said. “Before anything horrible could happen. I got really sick, puked all over the place. But that wasn’t the worst part.” He laid a hand against the side of his head. “Because this only started when he said that to me. And now I can’t stop thinking about him. About Tem. I didn’t eat him because I was hungry. I cared about him. We didn’t know each other that well and I doubt he ever felt that strongly about me one way or the other, but I cared about him so much. Did I love him, too? Is this how I’m going to feel about everyone I love?” He clutched his head in both hands now, voice fracturing. “I killed him, and I did that to somebody I-”

“Easy, easy.” Gosha gently took Riz’s arm and pushed it back down. “Do you need to do the breathing thing again?”

He sniffled and wiped his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

“Somehow I’m not convinced. This is a heavy weight you’re carrying, kiddo.”

“I have to break it off with him, that’s all. My classmate. We can’t see each other anymore. It’s…not natural, for herbivores and carnivores to get this close to each other. I know a few who made it work, but I’m not one of them. I ruined that chance a long time ago.”

He took another miserable gulp of his tea. Gosha had gone silent, hands clasped, kneading together with a distinctly unpleasant sound like a cheesegrater across glass.

“I’ve heard that plenty of times myself,” he said quietly. “It’s what everyone says. So when you feel that pull for someone, despite how different they are, or even because of it, it really knocks you for a loop. When you’re apart from them, there’s this voice in the back of your head made up of every damn authority figure you’ve ever met, telling you it’s a bad idea, illegal, unnatural. But then you meet them again, and that voice goes silent. And you feel so light you can walk on air.”

Riz’s jaw dropped. Gosha smiled at him, almost bashfully, and put a finger to his lips.

“There,” he said. “Now we’ve both told secrets.”

“You too?” Riz asked.

“I must’ve been just around your age. She was a canine, not an herbivore, but for someone like me there’s no difference. Venomous animals carry death in their mouths, it’s against the law for us to hook up with anyone outside our own species. But God, we were crazy for each other. Convinced we could make it work. We even had a little girl together, against all odds.” He gazed across the street, at the steady circulation of traffic. “It ended badly. For both of them.”

There was a long silence, filled by the city’s muffled noise. Gosha had gone sculpture-still. His gaze was fixed somewhere in the past, undefined and seldom revisited. Riz had the impression that what happened to his family was worse than simple estrangement. Then Gosha shrugged, and gave Riz a smile like something drowned – gone to the waves, irrecoverable.

“We did our best,” he said. “We tried. But it wasn’t enough. That’s one of this world’s ugly truths – sometimes, love just isn’t enough. I don’t know the full picture between you and this herbivore you’re tangled up with. I don’t think there’s any shame in feeling the way you do. But there’s no shame in backing away, either, before someone else gets hurt. You’re the only one who can make that call.”

Riz had finished the tea. He looked forlornly at the empty bottle, then sighed and strapped his muzzle back on. Though he’d scoured it clean, the rubber smell still carried an acrid trace of the mess he’d made last night.

“Are you going to be okay?” Gosha asked.

“I’ll be fine.”

“We’re still co-workers, after all. I’d rather not worry about you falling to pieces again in the middle of the job.” The sudden gruffness in his voice was completely transparent.

“It’s fine. I’ll figure it out. It helped, having someone I can talk to about this. I can’t tell my mom, or my counselor. They’ll just put me in a mental hospital or back in juvie. I don’t want to be locked up again.”

He prepared to rise, but Gosha stayed put – the lizard had suddenly become rather agitated, rocking in place, his claws digging into the gaps between his scales. Riz leaned over, concerned, but Gosha avoided his eye.

“Is something wrong?” Riz asked.

Gosha’s throat worked furiously, and when he finally answered, it was with considerable effort, spitting out the words like loose teeth.

He said, “There might be someone else you can speak to.”

Another half-dozen cars passed before Gosha worked up the nerve to keep talking.

“My grandson,” he said. “Only family I’ve got left. He’s a hybrid, like his mother, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at him. And he seems to have inherited all my bad habits. He’s in a relationship with an herbivore, too. Thing is, he’s making it work. Far better than I ever did. He’s put a lot of thought into all this – maybe too much, he’s a sweet boy but he gets lost in his own head sometimes. If you’re looking for another perspective, it might help if you talked to him instead of a crusty old recluse like me.”

“How old is he?”

“Had his nineteenth birthday just this month. He’s been making noise about moving in with his girlfriend and everything. Turned into an adult right under my nose.” Gosha shook his head. “He works at a noodle restaurant near the coast. If you like, we can stop there for lunch. See if he’s in.”

An alarm sounded deep in the back of Riz’s mind – there was something he was still missing here, a reason for Gosha’s obvious reluctance other than the possibility of inconveniencing his family. But the idea was too tempting. He’d gone years now with only Pina viewing cross-species relationships as anything other than destructively deviant. And it would give him an excuse to stay away from home for a little longer.

He said, “If it’s not too much trouble…”

“Well, we won’t know until we get there.” Gosha finished off his drink and then sprayed the can with disinfectant. “Lunch rush ought to be just about over.”

They tossed their empty drinks in the trash and took a train. Gosha suggested sticking to the reptile car, and though it was uncomfortably humid, the passengers only gave Riz a quick glance before returning to their phones or staring out the window. Riz spent the trip sitting stiffly in a corner, wobbling with every lurch of the train. He knew that reptiles were famed for their reticence but this gave even Mischa a run for her money. The silence was oppressive, like a cloth draped over his face.

They emerged on a spacious street, the buildings low and cozy, the wind carrying a hint of salt. Gosha led Riz down several more blocks and stopped in front of a shopfront with wide windows and an old-fashioned sliding entrance. The sign read “Bebebe,” and through those doors drifted a smell that made even Riz’s mistreated stomach perk up.

Gosha unzipped his coverall to the waist and produced something white from his back pocket. Unfolded, it revealed itself to be similar to a surgical mask, but with a wide vent for Gosha’s tongue – an antivenom mask. They weren’t compulsory, but venomous animals sometimes donned them to put other at ease, or in the case of the less savory types, to serve as a warning.

“This thing drives my grandson up the wall,” he said, tying it on. “I’m not too fond of it either, but at least we match now, eh?”

Riz smiled and gestured to the door. “After you.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

The interior was simply decorated and still fairly crowded, with a diverse clientele – a quick pan of the restaurant showed diners ranging from shrews to rhinoceroses, and most of them were too busy slurping up their noodles to give either of them a second glance. The wait staff were dressed in spartan white uniforms not too different from Riz and Gosha’s coveralls, and one of them, a middle-aged lioness, looked up to greet them, saw Gosha, and instantly became twenty years younger.

“Oh my God!” she squealed, loud enough for several of the customers to look up in puzzlement. Gosha grinned sheepishly around his mask as she rushed forward and air-kissed the sides of his head.

“Hello, Miika. Keeping well?”

“I’m just fine. What are you doing here this time of day?”

“Knocked off work early, thought I’d grab a bite. Is you-know-who around?”

“Yes, he’s helping out in the kitchen. You’re in luck, one of our large-carnivore tables just opened up. Is this handsome boy with you?” She pointed at Riz, who flushed hot.

“Yup. Co-worker. Similar taste in accessories, as you can see.”

“I hope he brought an appetite." She hustled them to a table, pulled out their chairs. "Come, come, he’ll be out in a minute. Drinks?”

“Just water,” Riz mumbled.

“Same,” said Gosha. “I had a cola on my way over.”

“Coming up. Good to see you again!”

She bustled off, leaving Riz slightly dazed. Gosha heaved a sigh – he evidently wasn’t used to that much affection either. They’d been seated near the front of the shop, with a clear view of the kitchen entrance, and dark shapes passed back and forth as the staff took orders.

“They like you here,” Riz observed.

“It’s my grandson they like. I actually made a bit of a scene last year, when those terrorists were running amok, but he smoothed it out with everyone.” He tugged at his mask. “I’m still not used to being welcome at places like this, but they can’t get enough of me. Because he’s happy whenever I stop by.”

“What’s his name?” Riz asked.

But Gosha didn’t answer. Instead, his tongue flicked through the mask’s vent – once, twice, thrice. He folded his hands on the table and locked eyes with Riz. Around them continued the sounds of the restaurant, clacking chopsticks, murmured conversation.

“It’s going to be okay,” Gosha said. “Don’t run.”

Riz frowned. He started to ask Gosha what he meant. But then his ears twitched and picked up another sound coming from beyond the kitchen curtain – a voice, this one unmistakable, even buried under all the other surrounding voices. He would never forget that dolorous monotone, like a subwoofer pressed against his skull.

Canine. Hybrid. Gosha’s flat, pinprick pupils. Riz’s breath snarled up. It whistled through his mask.

The kitchen curtain was flung aside and in walked a gray wolf – staggeringly tall even for his species, his pelt holding a distinct bluish tint, his pupils lusterless and small. He was young but seemed oddly weathered, dented; he had a notch missing from one ear and moved with a delicacy that suggested his body had undergone severe trauma not too long ago. He flipped through a notepad as he approached their table, and his doleful expression broke into a toothy grin that made it quite obvious why his co-workers found him so endearing.

“Welcome to Bebebe,” said Legosi, finally looking at the two of them. “Hi, Grandpa! What can I-”

He noticed Riz. His grin disappeared. Riz clutched the edge of the table, claws digging grooves into the wood. And there they remained, these three beasts – wolf and bear and lizard, in frozen tableau, as the animals surrounding them enjoyed their lunch.

Chapter Text

He’d grown up. That was the first thought that made itself heard over the hurricane in Riz’s head. While his time in juvie had lessened him, sapping his muscle, slouching his posture, Legosi’s pose was far more confident than Riz had ever noticed in Cherryton’s halls. His shoulders were squared and there were hints of serious muscle under his uniform, despite whatever damage he’d sustained from his fights with Riz and others. Even his bared fangs were somehow different, in a way that Riz couldn’t quite place.

The atmosphere around the table was explosive. Gosha cleared his throat as Riz struggled for something to say. But Legosi spoke first.

“Hi Riz,” he said, and that was all.

“Hey, Legosi,” Riz whispered.

“When did you…?”

“Earlier this month,” said Gosha. “My foreman hired him. Small world, eh?” He kneaded his hands, scales scraping. “He’s in a pretty bad spot, Legosi. Carni-herbi stuff. I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

“It’s Pina,” said Riz. “Things between us have gotten…complicated.”

One could almost imagine the hinges of Legosi’s jaw creaking as he shut his mouth. His tail had contorted itself into something like a zigzag, stickerbrush-stiff. Riz would have found it amusing if he weren’t also paralyzed with dread. Legosi’s bloodstains may have still marked the columns of that bridge underpass.

“I haven’t taken my break yet,” Legosi said at last. “We can talk.”

“Sounds good,” said Gosha. “Sorry to drop this bombshell on you, kiddo.”

Legosi turned woodenly in place and headed for the kitchen, leaving Riz to face Gosha alone. The old lizard’s eyes above his mask were calm, almost sleepy, but Riz was in danger of snapping the table under his grip. Every one of his instincts shrieked that, as strong as Legosi might have been when they’d fought, his grandfather was infinitely more dangerous.

Then Legosi materialized at the tableside again. “Sorry, I forgot to take your order.”

“What do you recommend?” Gosha asked patiently, as Riz narrowly avoided a coronary.

“The tsukimi udon is really good today. Fresh eggs.”

“Two of those, then.”

“Large?”

“I think medium. How about you, Riz?” he asked. Riz made an unintelligible noise. “Two medium bowls.”

“Okay. They’ll be right out.”

He scurried off, once again leaving Riz riveted by that basilisk stare. Gosha’s tongue swiped through the mask like he was savoring Riz’s fear, but when he spoke, his voice was measured and gentle.

“I knew from the beginning, of course,” he said. “But it’s not in my nature to make a scene, and I’m pretty good at staying out of everyone’s way, so I didn’t think it’d be an issue. Until I saw you going to pieces in that ditch. I assumed you’d fallen off the wagon. My mistake.”

“Gosha, I am so-”

“Before you say anything else,” Gosha interrupted, “remember what Morgan told you about apologizing too much. Legosi made his choices, same as you. And he made them well after I chose to stay out of his life.” He sighed and looked back to the kitchen. “Though the boy seems determined to drag me back into it, kicking and screaming. Every day he wears me down a little more.”

“Why did you hide this on the way over?”

“You’d have run for the hills if you’d found out who I really was. Or is that wrong?” Riz conceded that it wasn’t. “I’ll admit, what you did to Legosi has me rankled, but that’s because he’s my blood. The rest of it…well, I’ve done things that I regret, too. Leave it at that.”

Legosi emerged with three bowls of steaming noodles balanced on one arm. He set them down, pulled out a third chair, and then produced a set of gleaming white chopsticks and put them at Gosha’s elbow. Gosha removed his mask and smiled as he clacked them together.

“Ceramic,” he said to Riz. “Legosi keeps ‘em specially for me. I hope you’re not going to try and eat through that basket.”

Riz numbly undid the straps of his muzzle and put it aside. Legosi hunched over his bowl; bizarrely, he seemed even more nervous than Riz felt. He didn’t think he’d be able to touch his food, but a single mouthful changed that notion – the udon was superb. The next several minutes were filled with the sounds of slurping. Legosi finished first, and dropped his chopsticks into the bowl and shoved it forward and sat there with folded hands and bowed head, like he was attending a funeral.

“Pina told me that he was seeing you,” Legosi said. “Or something like it, anyway.”

“When you were in the hospital. I know.” He abandoned the last few bedraggled noodles and put the muzzle back on. Gosha, for his part, left his face uncovered, coolly watching them both.

“He asked me to see you sometime. I never did.” Legosi’s ears drooped. “I should have.”

That part of him hadn’t changed, at least; only Legosi could feel like the guilty party in a conversation like this. “It’s okay. Pina saw me twice a month. Bill too, eventually. Then I got out, and, well. Things happened.”

“Tell me.”

So he did. It was more detailed than the version he told Gosha, owing to his and Legosi’s shared history with Pina – he summarized the sheep’s earlier visits the best he could, their growing closeness, the foundation that was unwittingly being laid for what would occur on Deep Night. Miika stopped by and cleared away their bowls, happily ignorant of their discussion. The diners around them came and went, a few raising eyebrows at these three hulking beasts, one venomous, one uniformed, sharing a single table.

When he finished, Riz grabbed his water glass and drained it at a gulp. He’d talked more today than he had during most entire weeks. Legosi remained still for a time, his fingers curled contemplatively under his snout.

“He really said it just like that?” Legosi asked.

“Just like that. It wasn’t his usual attitude at all.”

“I believe you. But it’s hard to picture, coming from Pina.”

“I thought so too,” Riz said glumly. “That’s why it took me by surprise.”

“Just…” He made an aggravated gesture, like he was sculpting the air. “It’s Pina.”

Gosha said, “This sheep sounds like quite a character.”

“He’s a complicated guy,” Riz agreed. Legosi groaned and pinched the skin between his eyes, doubtless remembering their prior clashes in the Drama Club.

“I’m really not an expert in this stuff or anything,” he said. “There’s only one animal I know who is, and he works in the black market. If you told him this story, he’d probably just do what he did to me when I said I was in love with Haru.”

“What was it?” Riz asked.

“He punched me in the face and told me to stop,” said Legosi.

“Yeah, this doctor of Legosi’s is a rough-and-tumble sort,” Gosha remarked. “I’d like to meet him one of these days.”

“The thing is, he had a point,” Legosi went on. “It’s a dangerous kind of love. I came close to eating Haru the first time we met, and you…well, you know.”

“I should break it off with him, right? That’d be the smart thing to do.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple. Or that easy.” Legosi and Gosha exchanged a glance. “My break’s almost over.”

“Right,” Riz said quietly. “I won’t keep you. But thank you both for-”

Legosi said, “I like to go to the ocean to think, sometimes. Want to come with me?”

Riz’s jaw went slack inside the muzzle. He looked to Legosi, then to Gosha, who shrugged and nodded.

“Like I said, he can make his own decisions,” Gosha said. “And I doubt he has anything to worry about from you.”

“My boss should let me take the rest of the day off. I haven’t asked for one since I came out of the hospital.” Legosi rose from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

He left. Gosha watched him go.

“Did this turn out better than you expected?” he asked.

“I didn’t think he’d want to talk to me at all,” Riz muttered.

“He’s no good at holding grudges. He’ll keep his distance from someone for ages, but that’s more out of guilt than anything. I can relate.” Gosha’s tongue flicked. “Close the distance, and he’ll open right up.”

“Is that what you were hoping for?”

“We discussed you once or twice. I’m not the meddling type, but circumstances being what they were…” Gosha shrugged and said no more, fiddling with his chopsticks. Shortly after, Legosi emerged, having trading out his uniform for jeans and a loose-fitting sweater. He approached Riz like there was an electric fence between the two of them.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Whenever you are.” He looked to Gosha. “Are you going to come with us?”

“Nah, I think I’ve about outstayed my welcome here. I’ll handle the bill, don’t you worry.”

Legosi said, “We’re still on for dinner this weekend, right, Grandpa? You pick this time.”

“Every week he does this,” Gosha said to Riz. Then, to Legosi: “Yeah, we’re set. There’s a Komodo hotpot place I haven’t visited in a while.”

“Okay,” said Legosi. Then he stood in place, hands spread out expectantly. Gosha rolled his eyes and smiled.

“Right in front of everyone?” he asked, but rose from his seat and walked into Legosi’s arms. They hugged. Legosi’s tail wagged in slow, lazy arcs. Riz politely studied the marks he’d made in the table until the two of them let go.

“Take care,” Gosha said. “As for you, Riz – see you at work tomorrow.”

“Yessir.” He stiffly pushed himself up. “Lead the way, Legosi.”

Legosi nodded and slouched off, Riz trailing a safe distance behind. After they left, Miika brought the check, and Gosha paid, oblivious to how she and the other waitresses had been quietly melting down as they’d spied on his and Legosi’s hug. Restaurant work was hard. The staff had to find entertainment where they could.

*             *             *

They took the train in deathly silence, avoiding one another’s eyes. Legosi had never been the most gregarious canine in the first place, but Riz felt the barrier between them, territory that couldn’t be crossed. He’d tried to kill Legosi several times over the span of a couple months. No one was forgiving enough to simply let that go, no matter how much time had passed since then.

The salt smell outside this station was sharp enough to sting Riz’s nose; he’d never been one for the seaside, and the way the buildings dropped off into bare sky, slate grey veined with sunlight, was enough to give him vertigo. The boxes he’d been shoved into after Cherryton had been stifling, but this was almost too much open space.

“I first came here for work,” said Legosi. “A delivery to the seas. I met one of my neighbors here, a spotted seal. He helped me with a lot of things.”

“I’m glad you’re doing okay. Pina told me you’d dropped out but he didn’t have any idea what happened to you after that.”

“I didn’t talk to the club much. I wish I had, but I kept getting distracted.” Legosi’s tail dangled limp.

“Are you going to see their play next month?”

“Mhm. All three days. I’m taking Grandpa on the third day. I want him to meet everybody. It’ll be hard to talk him into it, though.”

The ocean drew near. It was nearly empty; most animals were still at work, and this gray and blustery afternoon wasn’t ideal for beachgoing. They weren’t headed to the sandy shore in any case – Legosi had taken them to the breakwater, a slab of joyless concrete where the waves slapped futilely against the jack-like polygons of the surge barriers. They left the streets and stepped onto that pathway, and Legosi turned and walked its length, close enough for the salt spray to speckle his pantlegs. Riz followed, plucking nervously at his coverall, unsure of what to say.

“You got skinny,” said Legosi. The line came out of nowhere and struck Riz dumb for a second. He’d forgotten that this was how conversations with Legosi often went – loaded with disjointed observations and non-sequiturs, which often left unwitting animals feeling like they were trapped on a tilt-a-whirl.

“Yeah, that’s juvie for you. But you’re bigger than ever.” He attempted a laugh. “If we fought again, you’d probably wipe the floor with me.”

“I don’t want to fight.”

“No, me neither. Sorry.” He struggled to match Legosi’s sleepwalker gait. “From what I heard, a lot of crazy stuff happened to you after that night.”

“I dropped out. Found my own apartment and started working at the restaurant. Then the Beastar, Yafya, got in touch with me because he knew my grandpa. He said that my predatorial offense could be erased if I found a criminal named Melon. But he died before I could catch him.” Legosi presented all of these facts in dry monotone. “Then the Butchers came. Me and Louis fought them. They didn’t leave us any other choice.”

“That’s how you wound up in the hospital?”

Legosi nodded. “I almost died.”

“You don’t look too bad, considering.”

“Most of the damage is under my clothes. It isn’t good. I could have gotten grafts to make it look better, but Haru told me that she doesn’t care. Whenever we’re together, and she sees the scars, I know that she’s telling the truth. And I fall in love with her all over again.”

They were tiptoeing around some uncomfortably personal territory right now, but Legosi didn’t seem to know or care. He paced the breakwater’s edge, head down, speaking low enough so that even Riz’s sharp hearing had to strain to hear him over the water’s froth.

“I’m happy for you,” Riz said. “Seriously. It’s good to know you’re doing well after everything that happened. Do you really know Yafya?”

“Grandpa knows him better than me. He’s fallen out of touch. The last time he spoke to me was right after his retirement. He said that I should be the next Beastar.”

This information tried to enter Riz’s brain and couldn’t quite make it in. “So…what happened?”

“Nothing. It’s up to the government, and I guess they had other ideas,” said Legosi. “And I don’t want it anyway. It’s too much. I think it would be too much for any animal, maybe even Louis. The world…it’s gotten so big.”

Riz couldn’t disagree. It would be impossible here, straddled by the endless ocean and the wide and merciless sky. He’d unconsciously fallen in step with Legosi, walking beside him instead of behind him, and Legosi regarded him out the corner of his vision.

“Me and Pina,” Riz said. “Do you think our relationship’s like that, too? That it’s too much?”

Legosi sighed. His ear flicked like a moth’s wing. “Like I said, it’s not that simple. Did Grandpa tell you what happened to my mom?”

“Only that things went badly.”

“Hybrids can mutate as they get older. Without warning. She wouldn’t stop changing. Her pelt, her eyes. She was caught between two different species. It got to the point where she couldn’t stand it anymore.” His voice went distant. “It happened right after I turned twelve. Almost seven years ago today.”

Riz stopped. The waves surged forward as if taking offense to what Legosi had just said. Legosi took another few steps before realizing that he walked alone, and turned, facing Riz fully. There was a grief in that expression that had skulked in him for years, grown and molted and grown again until it wore him like a shell. Suddenly a great deal of his furtive, groveling behavior in school made sense.

“I’m so sorry,” Riz said. “My dad died when I was little, too, but…not like that.”

“It’s all right. It was a long time ago.”

“You never told anyone in Cherryton?”

“Only my friend Jack,” Legosi said. “I was alone. For a long time. I’d decided it made sense that way. But if you spend every day telling yourself that you’re a monster, then the monster will appear, even if it didn’t exist before. That first night, when Haru was there in my arms, her heart beating in my hands, I couldn’t think of anything else to do except eat her.”

Those long days in juvenile hall, the instructional videos and the counselors’ calm and convincing voices, telling him and his fellow inmates to suppress their hunger, their instincts. Riz had tried to hold onto what little he knew of Tem – the alpaca’s brusque manner of speech, the way his long neck bent whenever he gossiped, how his wool glowed in a poorly-lit corridor. But the reformatory’s rhetoric had scoured all that away, until all that remained of him was his flavor.

“It didn’t get any easier when I tried talking to her,” said Legosi. “It made me look at parts of myself I’d spent so long ignoring. The fear, the loneliness and the hunger, and how all of them tied together. I think for animals like us, that’s the scariest part of relationships with herbivores. It forces us to face the monster inside ourselves. And once you start to resist it, you can’t ever stop. Or it’ll devour you and everything that you care about.”

He looked away from Riz, to the blank faces of the buildings past the breakwater. At first Riz thought that he’d spotted movement in one of the windows, someone spying on them, but then he saw Legosi’s eyes angled downward – at his ashen shadow, stretched long across the concrete.

“How did you do it?” Riz asked.

“I had to learn to take care of myself. To care about myself. Eat well, sleep well, exercise. Always be aware of my instincts. The hunger finds its way through the cracks in ourselves, so we need to patch them up as much as we can.” He ran his claws down his shirt, perhaps tracing an unseen patchwork of scars. “That’s why I don’t want to fight anymore, even if I think it’ll do good. Haru said it would have killed me if I didn’t stop, and she was right.” A pause. “She usually is.”

“You really have something special with herbivores, Legosi.” He turned to the gray ocean, its turbulent spume. “Do you ever regret all the trouble it caused? Getting so close to them?”

“Never,” he said. “Not just the herbivores, either. Haru and Louis, and my grandpa, and the club, and my neighbors and my co-workers…all of them. They helped me realize there was something about me to love.” The wind whipped at their clothes. “Does Pina make you feel that way, too?”

Pina stepping into the sterile visiting room. Pina staying close to him, heedless of his sealed fangs and claws. His warmth and his sharp humor. His disgust at Riz’s restraints. His delight when Riz had stepped out of the changing room. His anger when Riz dwelled too long on the monster inside himself.

There’s more to you than that.

This salt air made his eyes sting terribly.

“I don’t want to lose him,” he said. His voice was swallowed by the waves.

“I was the same,” said Legosi. “I kept chasing Haru even as I tried to push her away. She got so fed up with it that she swore to always chase after me too. After that, there was no helping it. We’d always find each other, again and again.”

“He hasn’t contacted me since last night. I think he realizes that he went too far.”

“It’s still Pina. I can’t imagine him confessing to someone like that unless it’s serious. He might have backed off for the time being, but he won’t wait forever. You need to figure out what to do before he finds you again.” He shook his head. “This isn’t anything like what happened with Tem. I’m pretty sure that Pina knows exactly how you feel about him. He’s ready to shoulder the burden of your love. It’s up to you whether he’s able to survive it.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Riz asked, the sea hiding the quaver in his voice. “After what I did? For all you know I’ll just end up making those mistakes all over again. Why do you believe in me?”

He shrugged. “I’m selfish, I guess. I don’t like seeing someone force themselves to be alone. It reminds me too much of myself. I’m practically bullying Grandpa into always seeing me and Haru. But he doesn’t seem to mind that as much as he used to.” Legosi eyed the horizon like he was searching for a hidden message in that dividing line. “And you’re not a bad guy, Riz. I’ve met some evil animals over the last year and you’re not one of them. In a way, you helped me find my place in life, the same as everyone else I’ve met. I’m grateful for that.”

How long had Riz watched this awkward canine creeping around the rehearsal room’s lighting rig, shining spotlights down on the actors? The Legosi from back then was hardly recognizable compared to the one that stood before him now. A lump formed in his throat but he gulped it down.

“I wish that we’d been friends,” he said.

“My mom told me something once. Every life is filled with regrets, but making up for them is how we live.” He looked at Riz and smiled. “If you ever come back to the restaurant, I can get you a discount. Louis and Grandpa won’t take them, but I think you could use it.”

Riz chuckled, and felt a sudden warmth on his pelt. As they’d talked, the clouds had grown thinner, at last fracturing to let the afternoon daylight in. No one had crossed their path since they’d stepped onto the breakwater. The city was close but stood silent as a tomb. Gosha did say that reptiles sought out secluded places; maybe this was an obscure trick of Legosi’s heritage.

“Can we stay here a little longer?” he asked.

“Sure,” said Legosi. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The spray’s smell was so intense that it cut right through the muzzle’s barrier. The sunlight grew brighter, coursed through the cracked skies in honeyed sheets and stained the ocean waves with color. Riz watched the shimmer, and imagined Pina at his side.

*             *             *

Since Riz had started working, he’d risen before dawn, like his mother. Earlier today he had passed her standing at the kitchen counter in her nurse’s scrubs, watching the coffeepot. He’d murmured a goodbye and gone out with his lunch and his honey bottle, headed for the ditch where he would imagine the earth bleeding like a fresh-cut artery, and Mischa let him go.

She listened to the door open and shut. She stood at the counter for another several minutes, motionless, her eyes like black divots drilled into a wooden plank. The coffeepot dripped and hissed between her thick-clawed hands.

When she was certain Riz would not return, she went to her bedroom, changed out of her scrubs, and called out sick.

With careful, unhurried steps, she ventured to the bathroom and its ruined door. It had taken very little effort to break; the locks on these apartments were installed for legal liability more than anything. When she’d called Riz’s name last night only to be met with frantic gagging noises and the squeal of claws against porcelain, she’d laid a palm flat against the door and applied slight pressure, and now it swung permanently ajar, its knob loose like a dislocated shoulder, its wood fractured halfway to its center. The landlord would raise a fit if he ever saw it, let alone the toilet, which was now covered in scratchmarks like indelible graphite.

The pipework’s racket greeted her as she stepped inside and scanned the room. Porcelain gouged but unbroken, tub now holding only the faintest scent of Riz’s vomit. She peered into the garbage can, narrowed her eyes, and reached in, extracting a pair of blister packs for Riz’s pills. Still unused. Mischa put them back into the medicine cabinet. There was no need to let them go to waste.

In Riz’s bedroom, the clothes he’d worn lay piled in front of his closet door. Mischa picked up the sweater, pressed it to her face and breathed deep. A mélange of aromas hit her, most of them unpleasant, that sickly-sour smell tainting the remnants of Deep Night’s dishes and her son’s pelt. But underneath it all, she thought she could detect a whiff of cologne. She cast the sweater aside and picked the pants and something crackled in her grip. After a minute of fumbling through the pockets, she extracted a water bottle – one far too small for an animal Riz’s size. There was perhaps half an inch of liquid remaining. She twisted off the cap, sniffed, drank, swished thoughtfully.

Back to the kitchen. Mischa spat out the mouthful of water and poured herself some coffee and sat at her table, battered old cellphone in hand. She was over the hill but not unfamiliar with modern technology, and she sipped her coffee and entered a name into Zoozle. A Beastbook page was among the search results.

The page was quite active, and nearly all of the photos were selfies. Pina was a rakish young sheep, winking, grinning, throwing peace signs, nearly always with one hand over another female’s shoulder or waist. While Pina was a constant subject, the females were not – each girl was seldom featured in more than two or three pictures. Comments underneath ranged from adoring to furious, with Pina’s smirk hanging over them all; it was possible to imagine him basking in the attention.

Mischa’s paw suddenly burned. She glanced over and saw that she’d clutched her coffee mug tightly enough to fracture it, and the dark steaming liquid now oozed between those cracks. With no change in expression, she released it and continued scrolling, as coffee spread around the mug in a growing puddle, dripped down to the floor.

Of all animals in this society, bears had to be the most cautious about their own strength. They weren’t the largest beasts out there but the combination of their size and vicious appearance – these bristling fangs, these rending claws – made other animals uneasy, and so the authorities had stepped in to soothe their concerns, in the form of employment subsidies, strength-blocking drugs, this constant low-key throb of discrimination. The bears knew their place, cultivated polite and friendly attitudes. They knew that no amount of strength they might exert could match the strength of the world itself.

So it had gone for Riz’s father. He’d been larger than Mischa, boisterous, maybe a little too enthusiastic about swinging his own weight around in a way that she constantly warned would get them into trouble, but trouble had come at them from an unexpected direction. One day, years ago, he had been hit by a semi-truck while crossing the street. Brake failure. He hadn’t woken up after that. Mischa had sat by him for days as he completed his transition from living animal to cooling meat, and then she had buried him and moved on, dragging the leaden weight of her life.

The life insurance and the settlement helped, but her work was unrelenting, and Riz felt her absence. As he also continued to grow, she’d decided to take her savings and send him to a mixed-species boarding school, in hopes that it would give him a chance to socialize, and some experience in how to deal with creatures weaker than himself. But after she had sent him away, those strangers – those taunting, tempting, vindictive herbivores – had brought him to ruin. Her son’s future in pieces. Every possibility now so terribly fragile. And just as he’d started to push some of those pieces together again, reassemble a path forward, along came the very herbivore who’d cast him into prison, with his smirk and battering-ram horns.

Yes, Mischa understood very well how easily something could be broken.

The coffee mug continued to bleed out as she perused her phone. This time she went to a rather less savory search engine, the kind that everyone knew existed but would seldom admit to using, the same one that Riz had furtively used to check on Tem’s family shortly after his release. The name Pina brought up several dozen matches of various species and genders. Narrow that down to sheep. Narrow it further to attendance in Cherryton Academy. Only one possibility remained.

And there it was. Home address.

Mischa set her destination and rose from her seat and retrieved some paper towels. She wiped up the spilled coffee, carefully picked up the damaged mug, and dropped it in the trash. It was still early and so she completed some other errands as the grey skies brightened outside their dingy windows. She vacuumed, dusted, wiped down the countertops and the oven. She went back to Riz’s bedroom and folded his clothes and set them aside for the wash. Her face remained placid as a frozen lake.

There was a journey ahead of her. Mischa took her wallet and left the apartment, the metronomic echo of her steps echoing through the stairwell. On the sidewalk, other animals instinctively dodged and flinched around her as she walked on, her shadow seething on the ground beside her. Mischa was calm. Her pace matched the drumbeat of her heart.

Chapter Text

Tess the Dall sheep led an unglamorous life. On an average day, she rose early alongside her husband, made coffee for both of them, and kissed him goodbye when he left for work. She would then go to the little study she had set up on the first floor of her family house and do her own job in what Niles called “the spreadsheet mines” – he knew it wasn’t funny, it had never been funny, and as far as he was concerned that was part of the joke – arranging figures, sorting data, and fending off a ceaseless deluge of email. She took short breaks every half-hour to rise and stretch. She ate a balanced diet and exercised regularly. She worried about her son. More than ever, these days.

This homebody lifestyle wasn’t entirely by choice. While Tess had never been a social butterfly, she’d enjoyed her own quiet, bookish circles in college, and had actually met Niles at a house party; he was a mutual friend of her classmate, attending HVAC classes in a different school, and she’d liked the combination of his gruff personality and awful sense of humor. But then some vital circuit had misfired in her brain. Overstimulation of any kind – too much color, noise, or stress, especially if it came unexpectedly – would seize her with a panic like night terrors, leaving her with wooden limbs and jackhammering heart. Often the attacks were so bad that she couldn’t even stand upright until they passed. It was some kind of latent genetic condition, stubbornly resistant to medication, and had surfaced shortly after she’d given birth to Pina, as if it had been waiting to spoil the fantasies of a happy family life she’d entertained in those difficult months.

But if that had been the illness’ intent, it had failed. For a long time Tess had feared her husband would blame Pina for her condition, but instead he’d adapted to the situation with a fierce, almost grim devotion, working day and night so the three of them could create a home stable enough for her to find her feet. They both made decent money now, comfortably middle-class, Niles’ aching back aside, and she wasn’t a complete shut-in, taking occasional excursions to the parks or the countryside so that she’d remember what sunlight felt like.

The problem was Pina. Many herbivores harbored complexes about their physical weakness, compared to their carnivorous peers, and while she’d never said it aloud, Tess was privately convinced that Pina’s acting out was borne from frustration over her own condition. The phone calls from his schools had been an endless source of grief for them both, but he’d always evaded any serious discipline from home, because Niles deferred to Tess and her guilt held them both at bay. The two of them had still known that this couldn’t go on forever, that eventually Pina would stop dodging consequences from his teachers or classmates and his relentless antagonism would land him in serious trouble, so Cherryton had felt like a godsend. Here, they thought, he’d be stuck in place – it wasn’t as easy to taunt and infuriate carnivores when you had to walk, learn, and eat alongside the same ones day in and day out. It would probably make the girlfriend situation worse than ever, but that would be a minor tradeoff (so long as he didn’t get anyone pregnant, heaven forbid) if he finally started getting along with others.

And now this. This bear. Be careful what you wish for.

When Pina had defended his clandestine visits to Riz earlier this month, Tess had scarcely recognized him. He’d been desperate to justify himself to them both, legitimately terrified that he’d be cut off from seeing Riz again. They didn’t know what to make of it. There was the chance that Pina had gotten so heated simply because this had been his little secret project and he didn’t want to it to be taken away, but neither she nor Niles really believed that; they still thought too highly of him, despite everything. No, this had been a show of actual compassion. And that raised a whole other set of distressing possibilities.

Tess rubbed her eyes and checked the time. Five minutes to eleven, and it already felt like she’d put in a whole day. She pushed away from her computer, stretched herself out, the menagerie of dinosaur figurines on her shelves staring blankly. Collecting these had become her little eccentricity since her health had gone awry. She didn’t really believe the figurines brought good luck, of course, but they were still nice to look at.

The doorbell rang. A single bright chime. She spun in her chair, eyebrows raised. They didn’t have any packages due that she was aware of, and this neighborhood didn’t often receive solicitors. She waited several seconds, and when no further sound came, she got up, went to the foyer, and opened the door.

She took a hasty step back.

Looming in the doorway was a she-bear (at least Tess thought she was female, with their type it wasn’t easy to tell), simply dressed, her snout powdering grey. Her face quickly became as blank as the figurines on Tess’ shelves, but in that first moment of eye contact, she’d looked as shocked to see Tess as the other way around. More strangely, one hand had been raised, palm out, like she’d been swearing an oath, and it quickly dropped to her side as she stood there mutely.

Just this brief shock was enough to make Tess’ limbs go stiff. She surreptitiously flexed her arms, cleared her throat.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

It was a simple question, but it appeared to give this bear a great deal of trouble. Her mouth worked silently as she looked back and forth, like she was a sleepwalker who’d snapped awake on her doorstep. An unpleasant theory crept into Tess’ mind.

She said, “Are you Riz’s mother?”

That got her attention. Those unsettling black eyes found focus.

“You know my son?” she asked.

“Not personally. But I think our children have been keeping a lot from us, haven’t they?” Her knees were going weak as if this bear’s gaze alone had weight, but she kept her voice steady. “I’m Tess. Pina’s mother. Your name is…?”

“Mischa,” she said, after a pause. And then there was another pause, like her mind was switching tracks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…I wasn’t sure if anyone would be home. Not thinking clearly. But I couldn’t think of anything else to do.”

“Other than coming here, you mean.” She sighed. “I assume Pina handed out our address.”

“Yes. Yes, that was it.” She nodded for emphasis. “My son. I’m concerned, for him. I worry.”

Her speech was stumbling, fragmented, like she’d only learned to talk recently, but Tess knew it was cruel to think such things about large carnivores and she brushed it aside. It wasn’t as though she’d been completely at ease the last few weeks, either.

“Did you want to come in?” she asked. “I don’t know much more about all this than you do, unfortunately, but we can talk. My lunch break was coming up soon anyway.”

Mischa hesitated before the doorframe like it was the lip of a bottomless cliff, but then she stepped through. Her head nearly touched the ceiling. Tess led her in, past the study, where her inbox was still pinging.

“Oh my God, shut up.” She slammed the study door closed and looked apologetically at Mischa. “Downsides of a home office. What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m a nurse.” And now that touch of grey in her fur made sense.

“A large-carnivore nurse? Looks like I have no right to complain.” They entered the kitchen. “It must have been terrible after those bombings.”

“It’s part of the job.” That bland tone added that this was a topic better left unexplored. Tess took the hint.

She went to the table, glanced out the glass patio windows at their little backyard, which was immaculately kept despite the early season. Niles had picked up gardening when Pina was still young. She suspected it had been because he’d wanted to give her something nice to look at outdoors.

Mischa took the seat, all her limbs pulled in close. She still looked lost.  She placed one claw on the table and yanked it away like she’d touched a hot stovetop.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Tess asked awkwardly. She wasn’t used to playing hostess.

“No, thank you.”

She sank into the chair opposite Mischa’s. “So, then. Our boys.”

“Yes.”

“Pina laid out the full timeline for us. This has been going on since last summer. We had no idea, obviously.”

“Would you have let him go if you had?”

She’d pondered that herself lately. “I can’t say I would. His father would have been put his foot down if nothing else.”

“Because Riz is a predatorial offender.” Mischa pronounced this in a dragging monotone. “You don’t have to deny it. I understand the concern.”

On a nearby shelf were yet more figurines and a small framed portrait of the three of them, Pina flanked by his parents, flashing dual peace signs with a wry smile. They’d had it taken just before he had left for Cherryton, and Tess looked askance at it like the photo would give her answers.

“The two of them have history,” she said at last. “As I’m sure you’re aware. When he brought this up to us, Pina argued that it didn’t matter. He was…vehement. But if we’d learned about it at the time, then no, we might not have been convinced.”

“Riz attacked your son. Do you hate him for it?”

This was delivered with an interrogator’s directness, enough to make Tess’ heartbeat stumble again. She was very aware of how large Mischa was, inside the confines of the house. This table had never seated a carnivore before, let alone this stoic mountain of muscle and fur. She answered slowly, selecting each word.

“I care about my family,” she said. “And I do worry about what all this could lead to. But my husband and I are deferring to Pina’s judgment for now. He’s spent more time around carnivores than either of us, at this point.” She smiled weakly. “It would be nice if that boarding school taught him something about how to get along with other species.”

Mischa exhaled, long and shuddering, the edifice of her showing cracks. “Riz is…delicate. Moreso than anyone believes, including himself. This situation is hard enough for him already. And I’m trying to help him, but I don’t know what to do, and now that he’s keeping secrets from me…”

“I think Pina understands a thing or two about that,” said Tess. “There’s a stereotype about herbivores, that we get hung up on our weakness. It’s sadly true in a lot of cases, for him especially. He was always trying to prove to himself how strong he was. Between you and me, it caused a lot of trouble before we sent him to that boarding school.”

“How so?” Mischa asked.

“He kept antagonizing carnivores. He would…listen, I know how insensitive this must sound, but he was still just a child at the time. He kept invading their personal space, asking if they wanted to eat him, that sort of thing. He only did it to carnivores who were bullying the weaker children, to take them down a peg, maybe, but that doesn’t excuse it. And the girlfriends, my God. He couldn’t stop trying to woo every female he laid eyes on. Just those two things alone raised so much hell that he had to keep changing schools.” She pinched between her eyes; the memories still gave her a migraine. “I’m given to understand he was still up to his antics at Cherryton, but then this business with Riz started. He’s taking it seriously. Moreso than I’ve ever seen before. Regardless of what history they might have, if he’s really this intent on socializing with your son, I’m okay with it. That boy had so few friends growing up. It would do him good to…”

She stopped. There was a sound in the kitchen now. A scraping.

Mischa remained utterly still save for one finger, which had begun to rake its claw across the tabletop in slow, deliberate strokes. It left filigree-fine marks on the wood as she began to speak, in that same clipped, lifeless voice.

“I never did tell you why I came here,” she said. “Last week, I suggested that Riz go to Deep Night, as a present to himself. I believe that he took your son. Against my wishes. He came back last night having some kind of panic attack. Crying, dry-heaving, his clothes stained with vomit. There was a moment when I thought he was going to die.” Scrape. Scrape. “You say that your son has a history of taunting carnivores? Whatever he did to Riz must have been his crowning achievement.”

Tess shrank back in her seat. “There must have been some misunderstanding. Pina would never have taken it that far.”

Now Mischa was using two claws. “Riz hurt him. Hurt his fellow herbivores. I imagine he was cooking up this bit of revenge for quite some time. Waiting for his opportunity. That moment of weakness.”

“Mischa, please, he’s just a-”

“You herbivores.” Her voice dropped an octave, elongated its syllables, like the rumbling of an oil-choked engine. “Your bones snap like twigs and your flesh rips like paper, and because of that, you think that you understand weakness. You understand nothing. We have to live with your leashes around your necks. Always wary of our future collapsing in front of us. I thought I was doing Riz a favor when I sent him to that school, and it ruined him. I could hardly stand to visit him in the reformatory, because every time I saw him there, I wanted to rip the place to pieces. But I stayed calm. We both were on our best behavior. When they released him, he was a shadow of himself, with that horrible mask over his face, but he was still trying his best to live. And then. You.”

She was tearing into the table with her entire hand now, sending up sawdust with every drag. Her fangs flashed at that last word. Tess was riveted to her seat, eyes gone saucer-sized, every muscle in trembling paralysis.

“There are so many rotten, unfair stereotypes about every kind of animal,” said Mischa. “But I can tell you this: the one about mother bears and their children is absolutely true.”

Her claws stopped. Down the hall, behind its closed door, the computer let out another cheery ping.

Tess bolted up from her chair and Mischa flung the table aside with such force that it struck the patio door, spiderwebbing the glass with cracks, and as it clattered to the floor she reached out and clamped both hands around Tess’ head; the sheep screamed and was lifted up, up, her heels leaving the ground, then her toes, until she dangled from Mischa’s mitts like an ill-used doll, one terror-struck blue eye shining in the darkness between her fingers. Saliva dripped from Mischa’s bared fangs. But when she spoke, her voice had again smoothed out, the monotone emerging from deep behind those sharpened pillars of bone.

“I came here intending to simply destroy your pretty little home,” she said. “But this gets the message across much more clearly. Tell your son to stay away from Riz. Or I’ll be paying him a visit next.”

“Police,” Tess whimpered. “I’ll, I’ll c-call the police…”

Mischa barked jagged laughter, speckling Tess’ face with spittle. “Go ahead, herbivore! The law’s on your side! They’ll put me away and Riz will be left alone, but that’s all right. The first night he came home, he asked me if he should leave. I thought I would lose him right there. You almost took him away from me.” Now her voice was splintering, eyes shining with wet. “And why not? I’m a failure of a mother anyway. Can’t protect him. Can’t guide him. I can barely feed him. Maybe if I’m locked up, it will finally teach him how this world sees animals like us. But if that little shit hurts him again, then all the police and all the walls in this city won’t be enough to save you from me.”

She released her grip and Tess crumpled to the floor, a curled white semi-spiral. Her muscles were aflame, melted; her lungs and heart all spasmed, drool pooling around her mouth. From where she lay, her vision fuzzed with dark, she saw the monolith of Mischa towering over her, staring down, heaving breath. Her expression relaxed, flickered towards concern and then something like fear. Then she fled the kitchen, and the darkness closed over Tess’ world completely.

*             *             *

The Drama Club building’s prop storage room was one place no one liked to enter without good reason – it was dusty, disorganized, a labyrinth of cryptically-labeled cardboard boxes in various states of decay, with the club’s old Meteor Festival dinosaur looming in the center like a papier-mâché guardian. It had been in better shape when Louis was in charge of things, but Bill, for all his virtues, wasn’t quite as adept at spinning plates as the deer, and the storage room had suffered for it.

But it was private, and quiet, and that made it ideal for what was happening here today. The tiger sat cross-legged in front of a glowing laptop screen, on which was emblazoned a draft of the script for Adler. He scrolled down in bursts, lips moving wordlessly, the claws of his free hand bobbing up and down like a conductor keeping time. Through the headphones came noise.

It was not pleasant noise. One moment it was a menacing babble like air pockets bursting in quickmud, the next it was a wretched shriek like a hurricane grown tooth and claw. No voices but the impression of a voice, fashioned from this din, an explosion torturing itself into a wordless parody of speech. It responded to the words that Bill now mouthed off the screen – Adler’s final monologue, to be spoken at the play’s climax. It was the sound of the Powers-that-Be.

The Powers had never appeared in any previous versions of Adler. They existed outside the stage, spoken of but always unseen, distant and unconquerable. But in Bill’s version, after Adler was slain by Igni the Fire Elemental, and Wander at last found the Lamplighter tending to his candles in the wastelands between life and death, the story took its sharpest departure yet. Normally, the Lamplighter offered Wander a choice – to either rekindle Wander’s flame and allow him to join the living, or light Adler’s for just long enough to give them a chance to say goodbye. Wander chose the latter, and he and the Reaper perished in each other’s arms, proof of the inescapability and universality of death. But in Bill’s rewrite, Adler was fully revived, and the Powers in their rage snatched away Wander’s soul into the darkness. Adler then ventured to their domain herself, and in one final monologue, petitioned them to return Wander to her side.

Bill had never shown much creative flair before taking on this production, but something about it had lit a fire in him, and after conjuring up the outline for this scene in particular, months ago, he’d collapsed into bed and slept for thirteen hours straight. It was a monstrously ambitious undertaking for someone of his limited experience, and what was worse, he’d put himself into a corner – he knew at once that the love story couldn’t work without this scene, but he had no idea how to portray it, even with Juno’s formidable acting chops. The whole point of the Powers-that-Be was that they defied characterization. No costume could depict them. A booming voice from the rafters would be laughable.

Then, the club had received a new applicant.

Bill reached the end of the scene and the audio clip went silent. He removed the headphones carefully, and saw that all his fur was standing on end. A long-eared shape crouched in the darkness across from him, knees pulled up to its chin.

“Was it okay?” Rylan asked.

“It was incredible,” said Bill.

He didn’t know which hat Cherryton’s talent scouts had pulled Rylan out of, and she hadn’t made the best impression when she’d turned up to apply – gaze on the floor, muttering her answers, clutching her laptop to her chest like a shield. But her demeanor had reminded Bill of a certain awkward wolf who’d nevertheless been a wizard with stage lighting, and when Rylan had demoed a few of the environmental mixes she’d prepared as examples of her sound engineering, his assumptions were proven correct. The girl was a budding genius. He knew that if Vim could get the soundboard compatible with her work, it would greatly improve the scene-setting – and there was one scene in particular that could only be done with her touch.

The Powers-that-Be didn’t need to speak. They could communicate through ambient noise alone, stirred up in the cauldron of Rylan’s laptop. Vague enough to preserve the Powers’ ineffability, but still with enough personality to hold a “conversation” with Juno’s monologue. Bill had put a lot on this little jackrabbit’s shoulders, so he’d done his best to keep the rest of the club’s gossip about her to an acceptable minimum, but it seemed like that had become less and less necessary as they’d realized what she had been doing the last couple of months.

“This is what you were showing off to everyone?” Bill asked. “Why keep it a secret?”

“I didn’t want them to have any assumptions. It’s the balancing.” Rylan crept forward and took the headphones. “The mix itself is okay, I think, but every animal hears things differently. Your ears aren’t like mine, or Vim’s, or Moro’s. I wanted to make sure that this would work for everyone. The same reaction.”

“It worked for me, at least. We’ll do a proper run of it during dress rehearsal and tweak the volume if we have to. Don’t want it to drown out Juno’s voice.”

“I know.”

Rylan flexed the headphones’ stems, her ears swiveling. The rest of the club was currently setting up the costume parade, where they’d wear their costumes in the main auditorium to ensure they looked okay under the stage lighting. They’d probably been ready for ten or fifteen minutes now and Kai would be tapping his foot, but Rylan had pulled him aside for this, as Tierra had predicted yesterday.

“I was in the audience two years ago,” she said. “When you were Adler.”

Bill’s eyebrow rose. This was new to him.

“My older brothers went to school here. They brought me to the play. The fight you had with that wolf wasn’t staged, was it?” she asked, and Bill grimaced and shook his head. “Thought so. The audience could tell, too. In that moment. I could hear it. A different kind of reaction. Especially in their applause, after the scene was over. They’d been shown something they didn’t think was possible.” She looked up at him, hesitantly, as though his pelt was glowing bright. “You’re trying to do that again, aren’t you? That’s why I wanted to help. Adler’s going to defeat the Powers-that-Be. I want everyone in the audience to hear what it sounds like when the status quo fails.”

Flashbacks to Legosi again. Demure and shy, until he’d come roaring out of stage right to slug Bill in the face. His fur was standing on end for a different reason now.

“How’d you put this together, anyway?” he asked.

“A lot of it is made up of storm effects. Typhoons, rainfall. Some traffic. But the rest came from recordings of those terrorist attacks last year.” She nodded grimly as Bill boggled. “It’s processed enough so that no one should be able to pick it out, but it has the effect I’m looking for.”

“Let’s maybe keep that part a secret.” He rubbed his neck. “We’d better head out. Anyone else still on your list?”

“Just Fudge and Pina. Fudge has been busy with costumes the last week.”

“And Pina?”

“I don’t like him.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “Save him for last. He’s been going through some-”

“Bill, where the hell are you?! We need you out here now!”

That was Kai, and the Doppler effect suggested he was running through the halls at breakneck speed. Rylan snapped her laptop shut as Bill jumped to his feet and exited the room, just in time to shout Kai’s name as he rounded the corner. The mongoose skidded to a halt and doubled back, and the look on his face made a pit open in Bill’s stomach – this wasn’t his usual orneriness, but raw panic.

“I’m here,” he said. “Tell me what happened.”

“It’s Pina,” Kai said, and the pit opened wider.

Pina hadn’t been doing well this afternoon. Juno had been all set to smug it up over his big mystery date, but he’d shuffled in with that insufferable smile nowhere to be found and kept to himself in the rehearsal room, noncommittally telling others that he was okay, that it wasn’t as though the costume parade needed him to act anyhow. Juno had enough tact to shelve all her prepared comments, and Bill, who knew full well what he’d been up to yesterday, was even more concerned. He’d been thinking of a way to approach Pina about it without the sheep telling him to piss off, but then Rylan had demanded his attention instead. He’d thought it could wait. Clearly he had been wrong.

“We were waiting for you in the rehearsal room when his phone went off,” Kai went on. “The asshole’s not even supposed to have his phone in costume, but when he took the call he freaked out and left like his tail was on fire. Nearly punted Vim into the damn wall.”

“Was he angry?”

“God, I wish. Juno got a look at his face and she’s scared shitless for him. She said it looked like he’d been shot or something. Bill, what’s been going on with him lately? You keep having these private chats with the guy but no one is-”

“Later,” he said hoarsely. “Where is he now?”

“Dressing room. Everyone’s pressed up against the door but no one’s got the balls to go in.”

“Alright. I’m on my way.”

The club was there, all right, in full costume, and the sight of them in that motley garb, pressed up against the dressing room door like eavesdroppers, was darkly absurd. Several of them tried to speak as Bill waded in, but he motioned them to step aside and knocked.

“Pina! You alright in there?” No answer, but he heard a frantic rustling of cloth. “I’m coming in, okay?”

The dressing rooms were as shabby as everything else in this building, resembling a cafeteria that had seen better days – lousy ventilation, stained off-green linoleum floors. Most of the light came from the bulbs around the mirrors (both of which needed a wipe down), and in that murk Pina was struggling into his school uniform, his costume rumpled on the ground several feet away. He didn’t even look up as Bill shut the door.

“Everyone’s worried,” Bill said, but didn’t dare approach – the way Pina was thrashing, there was a chance he’d get gored.

“I know. It wasn’t my intention. But something’s come up and I need to hurry home. I’ll explain later.” He buttoned up his shirt, missed two buttons, cursed, redid it, and then tried to put on his tie, which snagged on his horn. “Come on, you stupid, useless, fucking-!”

“Whoa, easy!” Bill rushed forward and took Pina’s arm before he snapped either the tie or his own neck. “Pina, what happened? Does this have something to do with last night?”

Pina looked at him then, panting hard, and Bill instantly understood what had gotten Juno so frightened. The sheep’s handsome features were drawn piano-wire tight, wool completely mussed, his eyes rolling up to the whites. He looked like he’d been laid down on a butcher’s block.

“I have to go home,” he said. “I’m sorry but I have to. I have to go home.”

“That’s fine. Ellen can stand in for you. And we’ll all be here for you when you get back. Okay?” Pina managed a nod, or maybe it was just an errant twitch. “Let me go out first. I’ll clear the way for you.”

Bill returned to the door, which predictably had everyone clustered up against it so tight it was a wonder they could breathe. He flapped his arms like he was shooing away flies. “Step back, everybody! Give him some air! Pina’s going to-”

Pina burst out of the room behind him and spun on his heel hard enough to leave a streak of shoeleather on the floorboards, and then sprinted down the hall and out of sight. The club watched him go, mouths agape.

“Bill, what’s going on?” asked Aoba.

“Family emergency,” said Bill faintly.

“Is he…coming back?”

“Of course he is.” He tried to sound confident but he could feel the earth falling away beneath him, and was certain the others felt the same. The whole play was threatened now. He recalled all the times Kai had grumbled that Adler was cursed. But he stepped away from the group and turned back to them, face stern, shoulders square.

“Ellen, we’re going to need you to stand in for him,” he said. “Kibi, Fudge, you’ve got the spare costumes ready?”

Kibi flashed a thumbs-up. “Material and design is the same. If it looks good on Ellen’s white stripes then we’ll have a solid idea how it’ll look on Pina.”

“He’s been workshopping his lines with me too,” said Ellen nervously. “So that my version’s less snarky, you know? But I don’t know if that’ll work for-”

“Don’t think about that right now. We need to get through today first. The rest can come after.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” All faces turned to Rylan, who’d huddled further down the hall, hugging her laptop. “I want this to work.”

Bill opened his mouth to reassure her, but Kai cut him off.

“We might try to get a second dress rehearsal done before opening night, but the Music Club could be a problem,” Kai said. “I’m buttering them up, but in case they’re stubborn about it, you think we could get a soundtrack going? Just for the cues?”

“I have recordings of the orchestra for the last time Adler was shown here,” said Rylan. “If Vim can set them up for me…”

“Wait, wait, what recordings? I didn’t know the school sold CD’s of that thing.”

“They didn’t. I put it together myself. From cellphone videos on Zootube, mostly. The quality will be terrible but all the cues should be mostly the same.” She shrugged at their confusion. “I liked listening to it. It brought back memories.”

“Okay. Yeah. That could work.” Kai clapped his hands. “Alright, let’s get to the auditorium already. We’re wasting daylight. Deal with the prettyboy sheep later.”

The club reluctantly departed. Juno looked to Bill with a devastated expression that looked totally unsuited with Adler’s crimson garb, but he made a conciliatory gesture and she nodded and moved along. He’d have to convince her later that none of this was her fault. But there was something else he had to do first. It went against instincts he didn’t even know he had, but he couldn’t see any other choice.

“Kai, hold up,” he said. “You’re gonna want to kill me for saying this, but go on without me. I need to make a phone call.”

“I do want to kill you for saying that,” Kai said solemnly. “Is this going to be a secret, too?”

“I don’t think so,” said Bill. “Not for much longer.”

*             *             *

The clouds had parted by the time he arrived home, letting in rays of late-afternoon sunlight that streaked the house like blood. His own appearance hadn’t improved much on the train ride over here – eyes still pinned wide, wearing only his shirt beneath the windbreaker, vest and tie abandoned. He’d been compulsively tugging his wool and it framed his face in wild curls.  

Pina gripped the doorhandle like he was expecting it to scald him and found it unlocked. He stepped inside. “Mom? Dad?”

“We’re in here,” said Niles from the kitchen. Pina followed the sound. His mother’s study door was open wide, computer turned off. Wispy strands of brown fur in the hall.

His parents were both there, Tess seated and trembling with a quilt draped over his shoulders, Niles standing sentinel beside her, still in his work uniform. Pina numbly took in the craze of fractured glass on the patio door, the missing kitchen table – it had been brought out back, set upside-down so that Tess wouldn’t have to look at the clawmarks – and then his father’s molten glare dragged his attention back again.

“Explain,” he said.

Tess had regained consciousness maybe half an hour after Mischa had fled their home, and had remained on the floor for some time after that, until she was confident that her limbs could bear her up. She’d hobbled back to her study, sent a weak apology to her job – sudden emergency, would be absent for the rest of the day – and turned her computer off. Then she’d spent the afternoon sitting in silence, occasionally weeping beneath the placid gazes of her figurines, until she finally succumbed and called Niles. She’d kept the details vague but he had rushed home at once, and the call to Pina had followed not long thereafter.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Pina asked. His words sounded foreign to him, like they was emerging from someone over his shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” she said quietly. “Just shaken up.”

“I’ll take her to a hospital if the palpitations don’t stop tonight,” Niles said. “Now you. What the hell did you do?”

Tess drew the blanket tighter around herself. “Riz’s mother told me that you did something to him last night. Is that true?”

There was no wriggling out of this, not that he was in any state to try. He averted his gaze as he spoke.

“He invited me to Deep Night,” Pina said. “Wanted to pay me back, I guess. We got food, it was fine for a while. Then, after, we went on a walk, and I…confessed to him.”

The temperature perceptibly dropped. Niles’ voice was deadly calm.

“What do you mean, confessed?” he asked.

Every word of Pina’s response was like a coffin door slamming shut. “I said that I was in love with him.”

“God fucking dammit, Pina!” Both Pina and Tess flinched as Niles whirled and swiped at the nearby shelf, sending the carved dinosaurs flying, the framed portrait to shatter against the wall. “You proud of yourself now? These stupid fucking games of yours finally got someone hurt! Your own family! All the shit we put up with, all those goddamn transfers, and you still-”

“Niles,” said Tess. One word, soft-spoken, but it cut his rant short like a dropped guillotine. Niles stopped and looked at Pina, whose fists were clenched white-knuckle, eyes welling up.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It slipped out. I didn’t mean to say it. I never wanted any of this to happen.”

“It slipped out?” Niles repeated. “You mean that you…that this was…”

He trailed off into a long, low moan and turned away, gripping his horns like he was preparing to wrench off his own head. Tess just stared, jaw agape. Pina couldn’t find anything else to say to either of them. His throat had closed up so tight he could barely breathe. Several agonizing seconds passed in this fashion, until Niles finally pointed at him.

“Bedroom,” he said. “Now. We’ll talk after I clean up this mess.”

“Are you going to call the police?” Pina asked.

“We’ll discuss it,” said Tess. “Do what your father says, Pina. Please.”

Pina obeyed, moving with the stiffness of a wind-up toy. His horns were like iron weights tied to his head. When he got to his bedroom, it took all he had just to unzip his jacket and cast it off before collapsing onto the mattress, head in his hands.

As he’d walked alongside Riz through the lanterns of Deep Night, he hadn’t known what had come over him. The whole night had felt wrong, but in a good way – all his usual ways of asserting control, his quips and his gestures, seemed either ineffective or unnecessary, and he’d been content to just watch Riz’s uncovered face, his smile growing wider. The mushy nonsense he’d spouted when Pina had persuaded him to finally unclip that muzzle had echoed in Pina’s head, growing louder all the while, and by the time they’d walked out into the park through those isles of lonely light, he’d realized that this hadn’t been confined to just this evening, that this attraction had been building for a while, now transfigured into something that had a name, a word that could never be spoken. It had built in his chest nonetheless, and when Riz had laughed at his latest awful joke, his fangs sparkling in the lamplights, the word had emerged from him as if his heart was a cocoon.

But it had been a mistake. He’d known that the moment he’d said it, and Riz’s collapsed smile and sudden exit only confirmed that. The potential consequences of his confession had haunted him all that night and through the next day. But he never would have dreamed it could get this bad.

His father entered not long after, taking his usual place against Pina’s dresser. His earlier rage had boiled away, leaving behind something dry and hard as a salt crystal. Pina watched him desolately, ready for whatever awaited him.

Niles said, “Your mother doesn’t want to call the cops or press charges. Not yet, anyway. I don’t agree, but she’s pissed at me for knocking over those damn dinosaurs of hers, so I’m not in any position to argue. But there will be consequences for this, with or without the police.”

“Okay,” Pina said. His father sighed, wiped a hand down his snout, and then held out his arms like pleading for mercy.

“Why him?” he asked.

It took Pina a second to work out exactly what he meant, and once he did, no answer would come. He stammered out a couple of useless syllables and fell into guilty silence. Niles scoffed, scratching his horns.

“Can’t even answer me,” he muttered. “Shit. That means it’s probably for real.”

“The muzzle,” Pina said.

“The what?”

“He has to wear a muzzle whenever he’s out, because he’s on probation. I made him take it off so that he could eat properly. It was a food festival, he had to eat. It was the first time I saw his face since I started visiting him, under all those lights. And then he kept going on about how smart and brave I was, how grateful he was to be with me. And it wasn’t flirting or anything. He just said it like he was talking about the weather. Who talks like that? But when the two of us were alone, it caught up to me all at once, and…I couldn’t help myself. It was a bad idea but I said it anyway.” Pina’s lip trembled. “And he ran away from me.”

“He did a lot more than that, according to his crazy bitch of a mother. Must’ve really knocked him for a loop.”

“Why aren’t you surprised by this?” Pina said. “I confessed to a predatorial offender, for God’s sake.”

“Yeah, after chasing after every female that wandered into eyeshot,” Niles said dryly. “Your mother and I always figured that if you ever seriously fell for somebody, it’d hit you like a ton of bricks. I’ve tried to brace myself for it. Who it could be. If it was a male…fine, whatever, it’s not my thing, but with the way you carry yourself, it definitely wasn’t out of the question. What worried me was carnivores. Like I said last time, this carni-herbi shit is catching on more and more and it keeps getting kids hurt. But this?” He snorted mirthlessly. “You’re really full of surprises.”

“Nothing surprising about what happens next,” Pina said bitterly. “I have to cut this off, that’s all. Or maybe it would be better if I just ghosted him. Seems like I can’t help but cause trouble anymore, whether I want to or not. Better for him if he gets away from me.”

Niles fell silent at that. Then he crossed over to Pina’s side of the room and sat down on the mattress beside him. Pina gaped; this was a violation of territory that had been sacrosanct since he was in grade school. But that was nothing compared to what his father said next, in a mild, conversational sort of way.

“I almost got fired last year,” he said.

“I- You- What? Why? How?”

“It was right around the holidays. You know how it is, freezing weather, everyone’s got plans, so the workload is crazy and tempers are high. There’s this newer guy where I work, another ram – big muscles, not much neck, I hope that paints a picture – and I guess he was in the mood to flex on somebody. We all hang around dispatch in the early morning, drinking coffee and shooting the shit. Talking about our families, if we’ve got any. So this guy comes up to me and starts asking after you. My son the theater kid.”

“Did he really call me that?” Pina said flatly. “It’s not even an amusing pun. We’re sheep, not goats.”

“Well, that’s what he called you,” said Niles. “And then he called you a few other things.”

The way Niles’ jaw set didn’t leave many questions as to what those things might have been. Pina eyed him warily. “Then what happened?”

“I bloodied his nose and just about broke his fucking ribs,” Niles replied. “See, all those years dealing with your crap has given me a pretty good idea of when someone’s getting ready to mouth off. He was probably expecting me to huff and puff for a few seconds. Didn’t think I’d go right for the headbutt.” He tapped his horns. “These aren’t just for show.”

“Holy shit, Dad.” There was a note of awe in his voice, hard as he tried to suppress it. He’d visited his family for the holidays and hadn’t picked up a single hint of this.

“I could’ve been canned right then and there, but the rest of the shop backed me up, we were swamped, and I’ve got fifteen years at that place, so instead I’m on probation ‘til the summer. Kept it a secret from you so that you could focus on school. Your mother gave me seven shades of hell – where’ll we go, what’ll we do – but I didn’t care. No one talks about my son like that.” His mouth thinned. "Maybe not too different from what happened here today."

“Not sure what I’ve done to warrant that kind of defense,” Pina said, and tried feebly to summon up some humor. “I might cut a dashing profile, but I’m hardly Beastar material.”

“This is the shit I’m talking about,” Niles said harshly. “You’re better than that, Pina. We’re proud of how you turned out, pain in the ass or not. If this bear’s able to see that, too, then he can’t be all bad.”

“So you don’t hate Riz?” Pina asked, clutching his knees. “Even after all this?”

“He’s not accountable for how his mother behaved. As for this…thing…between the two of you, I don’t know. You seem to be good for each other but it would have been such a terrible idea on so many levels that just thinking about it makes me feel like I’m going bald.” He heaved another sigh. “But none of it matters now. I can’t see any good way out of this mess.”

“It’s fine,” Pina said. “I’ll end it gracefully. Take this as a lesson learned.” He tried to smile. “About time I started growing up, right?”

But Niles only looked at him with pity. “You’re stuck in a shitty situation, through no fault of your own, trying to figure out an answer that’d cause the least amount of grief for everyone. And you’re not sure what that might be, right?” Pina shook his head. “Kiddo, I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but that is growing up. It doesn’t get any easier from here.”

Pina stared – at his father, then around his room, the bare walls and deepening dark outside his window. Then he laughed, a bubbly hiccupping chuckle that grew into something bright and rich. But the tenor shifted, and his face grew hot, and eventually he realized that he’d started sobbing instead, ugly wracking cries that tore at his chest and made his voice a stranger’s. Niles pulled him in and held him tight, said that it was okay, to let it all out, and Pina wailed into his father’s wool, so pathetically weak.

*             *             *

There were still chores to be done. She could have done the laundry, or cleaned the oven, or gotten an early start on dinner. But when she arrived home, Mischa took her place at the kitchen table and remained there, statue-still, dread uncoiling its tentacles in her gut.

She’d gone to that house in something like a fugue, her mind blank except for a distant buzzing like powerlines, but it had receded when Pina’s mother had answered the door, leaving her dizzy and weak. But something Tess had said had made that noise come shrieking back, and when it receded again, Mischa found herself staring at Tess’ prone and spasming body. She hadn’t hurt her, but all her medical training told her that there was something deeply wrong with the way Tess lay paralyzed; Mischa had the brief, ludicrous impulse to try and help her back up again, and then took in the gouged table, the shattered doorway. Her presence was not wanted.

She’d retreated back home, listening for sirens, and now here she remained, the thumps and scrapes of the building’s other residents her only way of marking time. When the front doorknob rattled, her breath caught in her throat – she expected a squad of stone-faced police to come marching in, tasers at the ready. But what she did see was almost as bad. Riz walked in, unzipping his coverall and unstrapping his mask. He glanced at her in surprise.

“Welcome home,” said Mischa. “You’re back early.”

“So are you,” said Riz.

“I didn’t go to work today. Called out sick.” Her hands tensed. “Mostly I couldn’t sleep last night.”

“I worried you that much, huh.” He pulled off the muzzle, his frown plain to see. “Sorry, Mom. But it’s alright now. I’m over it.”

“That’s good.” A pause. “Riz, you know that I love you, right?”

He looked wary. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I know how I behave. How I come off. I was never as open with you as I should have been.” She was trying to hold on to her usual tone, that flat pronunciation, but the words wavered and shook. “So I don’t blame you for keeping secrets from me. I wish that you hadn’t, but…you can’t be held responsible for my behavior. How I reacted.”

Riz’s snout creased in confusion. Then it smoothed, dropped open. Horror sheened his features.

“What did you do,” he breathed.

“I didn’t hurt anyone. But that might not matter.”

“Mom, what did you do?!”

“I found out where he lived. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Hadn’t expected anyone to actually be home, but then- wait, Riz, stop! Stop!”

Riz had turned away and gotten out his phone, but Mischa rushed over and grabbed his wrist, held it high. He resisted her, he was trying not to hurt her but he was still so incredibly strong, and they heaved each other around the apartment in a wobbling, morbid two-step, the phone’s screen flashing over them both.

“You can’t call him,” Mischa babbled. “You can’t let anyone think you were involved. You’ll be fine, you’re young, you’ll land on your feet even if they take me away, but if you stick your nose in, if they start to blame you too-”

“Get off me!” Riz shouted, and shoved hard. Mischa staggered back, grabbed the table for purchase, and flipped it as she fell, bear and furniture striking the floor hard. A second later, someone downstairs thumped their ceiling and shouted to keep it down. The two bears stared at each other, paralyzed, the phone going dark in Riz’s hand.

“So what happens now?” Riz asked at last. “You want what’s best for me, right? You’re the adult, you have all the answers. What do we do now?”

Mischa could only tremble in his shadow. Smaller than she’d ever felt. When it became clear she wasn’t going to speak, Riz stormed past her and slammed his bedroom door shut. She rose and picked the table back up, and then hobbled to the fridge and started to fix an early dinner. Her son would not join her.

Chapter Text

The skies cleared and the next day came and went. When the Drama Club trooped into the building for their latest rehearsal, the atmosphere was dismal despite the sunny, warming weather. The costume parade had gone well, the posters were printing, pre-orders for tickets were about to go live (and some early research from the club’s more business-minded members suggested they were going to sell like hot rice cakes), but the misfortune hanging around the horns of their male lead still loomed large, and Pina’s own behavior didn’t assuage anyone. He showed up on time, politely accepted everyone’s concern, but it was like someone had wrung all the personality out of him. All his pomp and smugness were gone; he just changed into his rehearsal clothes and took his place on the floor, looking exhausted.

It was a dire omen for the performance. Offstage, Pina might have normally been about as pleasant as chewing on steel wool, but his interpretation of Wander was built around his cheeky, defiant energy. Without that, the whole play fell apart. Nevertheless, no one dared pry too deeply into what exactly had rushed him away from campus yesterday. Even Kai read the schedule without any of his usual attitude – and he had every reason to be irritated, because Bill had once again walked out on everyone, pulling his phone from his pocket.

Since the winter, when the city was still reeling from the bombings’ aftermath and the Cherryton third-years’ time at the school entered its final turning, Bill had spent more and more time in this building. Part of the reason he’d never chastised Rylan for her habit of sequestering herself away from the group was that he shared the same bad habit; felines were much like reptiles when it came to finding secluded places, and Bill’s last three years had been spent here, familiarizing himself with the rickety structure’s every nook and cranny. He could trace the private history of his own life through these spaces: the head office where Louis had interviewed him when he’d been scouted as a junior actor, with curt and contemptuous questions that had felt like the deer was poking at him with a scalpel; the halls whose shelves overflowed with random bric-a-brac from storage areas that were either too poorly organized or too full; the prop storage with that ridiculous and seemingly immortal dinosaur, restored and refitted anew every year; the dressing room where he’d stood in his newly tailored Adler garb and stared hollowly into his reflection, rabbit blood thick in his nostrils; the lockers where Pina had entered their lives with all the tact and collateral damage of a meteor strike.

The plain fact was that Bill loved every inch of this place, and every one of the animals who’d come and gone here, even the ones he occasionally wanted to throttle. His manic creative output for these recent months had been his way of paying tribute to it, to the club that had directed so much of his adolescence and had come so close to being lost during the time of segregation. Now it was all threatening to crumble in his hands, and what he now heard over the phone only made that sense of impending doom stronger.

He’d taken this call in the bathroom, the same one where Legosi had confronted him about the rabbit blood, a show of simmering rage the likes of which Bill hadn’t even believed the gangly wolf was capable. The drips from a leaky faucet underscored the conversation.

“But what the hell happened between you two?” Bill asked, gripping the windowsill. “Even before he freaked out yesterday, Pina looked like shit. Did he run his mouth too much? Cross a line?”

“Nothing like that,” said Riz. “I’m sorry, but it’s not my place to tell.”

That alone gave Bill a pretty decent idea of what had actually been said at Deep Night, but he held his tongue. “Then what?”

“I was pretty stressed out when I came home.” Riz’s voice was dead and dull, warped by the phone’s signal. “Tried to play it off as food poisoning, but my mom saw through it. She tracked down Pina’s address. I think she might have hurt someone.”

“Oh no. Oh fuck, Riz.” He should have tried to be reassuring, but the words spilled out before he could lock them in. “But that’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything-”

“That’s what she’s saying, too. But I don’t think it’ll matter.”

“So what happens now? What can I do?”

“Business as usual, I guess. Waiting to see if the police show up. But I can’t contact Pina. You understand, right?”

Bill shut his eyes; the sun’s glare was making them water. “You want me to tell him?”

“You’re the only one I can trust. I’m so sorry for everything, Bill. I messed up the club two years ago and now it looks like I’m going to cause even more trouble for you all. But I can’t speak to him anymore. For all I know, even a text message might be used as evidence.”

“This is so unfair. You did your time.” Now his voice was starting to crack. “I didn’t even get to see you on the outside.”

Riz was breaking up, too. “Everything you and Pina did meant so much to me. Let him know that, alright? I don’t regret a minute of it. Now I have to find my own way forward. No matter what happens, I know he’ll be fine.”

“I’m going to stay in touch, Riz. Whether you like it or not. This stupid club…everyone in it means a lot to me. You were a part of that, too.”

“I know. That’s where the trouble started. Goodbye, Bill.”

“I’ll call you. I will.”

The line went silent. Bill straightened up, tucked the phone into his pocket, and then turned and punched a stall door as hard as he could. It struck the wall with a thunderclap, the handle denting the adjacent wall.

Nothing had changed. Cherryton’s segregation was over, the Beastar was retired, the city had almost burned down over this carnivore-versus-herbivore insanity, but everyone was still playing the same senseless games as always. All his hopes and labor over this winter felt small and insubstantial as a bubble in a glass of seltzer – drifting aimlessly, near-invisible, ready to disappear without a trace.

He left the bathroom and shuffled back to rehearsal, his tail dangling limp. All he could do now was hope that Pina was resilient enough to absorb this bad news and carry on. The play had now grown to the point where it would no longer tolerate substitutions – Ellen was a good actress, but if she tried to reprise her old role as Wander, all the character dynamics would be off-key.

“Suck it up,” he growled to himself, as he approached the rehearsal room’s door. He didn’t want his last memories of the club to be bitter ones, but he was responsible for way more than just himself.

He reached for the doorhandle and paused, ears perking. There was a lot of lively chatter going on inside that room. He tilted his head and listened close. One voice in particular stood out – and despite his best efforts, it made his whiskers sag in relief.

Bill went inside.

Everyone in the club had crowded together in a rough semicircle facing the doorway, even Pina, though he was at the very edge, arms crossed and looking bemused. The nucleus of this little gathering had his back turned to Bill, though there could have been no mistaking his identity. Those antlers were difficult to hide.

Louis the red deer glanced over his shoulder and then turned to face Bill. His face had changed greatly since he’d been lead actor – expression half-smiling, eyes half-lidded, and all of it divided in half by a livid white scar that ran diagonal from his antler-line to his jawbone. But when he spoke, it was the rich, confident timbre that had echoed through these halls years ago.

“It would appear your president has at last graced you all with his visage,” said Louis.

“Good to see you too, you stuck-up dick,” Bill retorted.

“Still haven’t learned to moderate your language.” Louis walked toward him, gesturing to the rest of the club, the sleeve of his duffle coat hanging loose – since he’d received that scar, he’d started to favor clothes that were just a little too big. “What sort of example is that meant to set for your clubmates?”

When he got right up in front of Bill, the cheer evaporated from his features. He leaned in, voice low.

“Any news?” he asked.

“Riz just called,” Bill muttered back. “It’s not good. Whatever happened on Deep Night made his mom flip out. She might’ve attacked Pina’s family.”

Louis didn’t miss a beat. “Understood. How do you want to play this?”

“I think you’d better take the lead. I’ll deal with the rest after.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Louis spun back to face the others again. They’d become noticeably more wary during that quick chat – Juno’s tail had been going a mile a minute when Bill had come in, and now curled between her legs – but Louis’ lazily good-natured expression was back like he’d slipped on a mask.

“Everyone!” he said. “It’s wonderful to see you all again, but regrettably, I didn’t come to socialize. I actually wanted to have a few words with your lead actor.”

All eyes turned to Pina, who scoffed. “Acting tips from the school’s best and brightest? Flattering, but I’ll pass.”

“I wasn’t called here to tutor you.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Bill thought we should discuss a certain mutual acquaintance of ours. I think you know who I mean.”

Pina raised an eyebrow. Then, realization dawned, and its effect on him was severe enough to make the nearest students take a few hasty steps back – ears pinned, teeth bared, glaring at Bill with such intensity that it was a marvel the tiger wasn’t vaporized on the spot. Bill stoically returned his gaze.

“Pina, what could I do?” he asked. “It’s gone too far.”

“What’s happening right now?” Mina asked tremulously. Her neck had coiled with anxiety.

“Yeah, what acquaintance?” said Vim. “Does this have to do with your emergency yesterday, Pina?”

“It’s none of your damn business!” he shouted, and Vim flinched and hid behind Tierra. He looked from one animal to the next, his icy eyes feverish. “Oh, this is rich. This is what you’ve been hoping for, isn’t it? A chance to get back at me for putting you all in your place over and over since I came into this dump. All of you, spreading rumors, indulging your sad little fantasies. Why doesn’t the mafia prince over there get us started?” He pointed to Louis. “Go ahead, share with the class! What the hell do you and that halfwit tiger think you know about me?!”

“I’ll do no such thing,” Louis said evenly. “Bill’s going to address the club while you and I talk. It’s fine if you’d prefer to do it here and not in private, but that may become awkward rather quickly.”

Pina froze. The other students had started drifting back to him as Louis spoke, Juno at the forefront. She gingerly reached out for Pina’s shoulder, and he swiped her hand away and charged off. Bill dodged to the side in case Pina went for a headbutt, but instead he simply flung the door open and slammed it shut behind him, the sound echoing away in the room’s upper reaches.

“And that’s my cue,” Louis said. “I’ll leave the rest to Bill.”

“Count on me,” Bill managed to say. His teeth were chattering. He’d been mentally playing out this nightmare scenario on loop for weeks. Louis placed a reassuring hand on his arm.

“It’ll be fine. I put you in charge for a reason,” he said, and then he was gone.

When he had played Adler, it had only taken a few scenes for the stage lights to boil away Bill’s bravado. His pride as a carnivore, his need to surpass Louis, even the adrenaline jolt given to him by the rabbit blood – it had all abandoned him, leaving only the stage and those ranks of staring, expectant faces. Looking back, he knew that he’d have collapsed into a stammering wreck if Legosi hadn’t entered with his violent ad-libbing.

The Drama Club fanned out before him, this beloved menagerie, every eye open wide, every ear awaiting his payload of bad news. Legosi and Louis weren’t here to save him this time.

He cleared his throat, breathed deep, and began to speak.

*             *             *

Unlike his father, Pina would have never dreamed of putting his horns to violent ends – half his cosmetics were dedicated to keeping them polished and scuff-free. But Louis left the rehearsal room to find him just down the hall, fiercely rubbing and smacking them against the brickwork. Chunks of aged masonry pattered to the linoleum.

“That’s unwise,” Louis said mildly. “These walls are weaker than they look. Your head could get stuck.”

“That stripey traitor,” Pina snarled.

“On the contrary. Bill is very proud, and he's serious about keeping promises. I showed up because I knew that he wouldn’t have called unless the problem was truly dire.”

He leaned against the wall opposite Pina, who’d laid both hands against the bricks, wool dangling in wild threads. He wasn’t as disheveled as he’d been yesterday, but it was close.

“What exactly did he think you could do?” Pina said. “Bribe the police?”

“Nothing so drastic. Bill is also aware of his own shortcomings. Maybe too much. He was your confidant, but he believed it might benefit you to discuss this with another herbivore, one who shared your…tastes.”

Pina let out a rasping chuckle. “They all think they’re so clever. I should just walk away from this idiotic production entirely. Let your girlfriend try to carry it all on her shoulders.”

“She probably could,” Louis said matter-of-factly. “But I think she’d be more concerned for your own well-being. The same goes for the rest of the club. I haven’t been in touch with them as often as I’d like, but they all think very highly of you.”

Pina drunkenly swiveled in place, staring Louis down. “You might be a good actor, but no one’s good enough to sell a lie that big.”

Louis stared back. His wide, dark eyes were like reflecting pools – Pina could make out the mangled, pale form of himself in that liquid gaze. With shaking hands, he reached up and attempted to re-style his wool into something civilized.

“Where are we doing this?” he said.

“The office seems as good a place as any. Shall we?”

Louis set off, Pina sullenly trailing behind. With every other step, the deer’s foot emitted a slight clack, barely audible even in the dusty silence of the halls. When they reached the office, Louis looked around as he unbuckled his coat, smiling nostalgically.

“The last time I set foot in here, I still had two of them.”

“Not to mention an intact face.” Pina shut the door. “Is it true you gained that little feature in the black market?”

“It is. When those terrorists made their move on the city, Legosi hunted their mastermind while I took some associates to deal with the remainder of their forces. I was ambushed by their second-in-command, a Doberman pinscher. Nasty piece of work. I received this scar. He choked to death on my prosthetic leg.” He carefully folded his coat and draped it over a bookshelf. “I’d say that I came out ahead.”

Under the coat, Louis was wearing a plain polo that hung on his bony frame. He looked like a strong breeze would snap him in half. Pina gave up on trying to assemble the scene that he’d just described, and resorted to sarcasm.

“And now you’re back to playing the business mogul?” he said. “With a canine commoner as a girlfriend, no less. Tensions around your household must be running high.”

“I’ve been handling that, too.”

Louis did a slow patrol of the room as he talked, wiping away dust here, plucking up strands of orange fur there. He barely paid Pina any mind. As if he was just another part of the furniture.

“I haven’t really shared this with anyone besides Juno, but the Horns Conglomerate’s been striking out in new directions lately,” he said. “My father and I have developed proposals for R&D and marketing to focus on cross-species products, financial initiatives to offer reduced rates or subsidies to registered herbivore-carnivore couples – an alternative to the government’s Pure Marriage Fund, you could say. The board of directors balked, of course, but focus tests have been promising, and coincidentally, my fiancée Azuki’s business holdings have started to pursue similar policies. If the board doesn’t sign off on my ideas, then she’ll eat their lunch. And I stand by my ideas. After all, I’m in a mixed-species relationship myself. It’s become a symbol of my commitment, not my deviance.” He paused by the armchair, stroking its threadbare upholstery. “My father respects determination, and he’s intrigued by unconventional decision-making. We’re gambling with the future of the company right now, but we’re doing it together.” He eased himself into the chair. “I think we may finally have started to understand one another.”

Pina stared dumbly as Louis crossed his legs, one pantleg hitching up slightly, exposing the pale resin of his prosthetic. He’d never been terribly interested in the deer before, but now he begrudgingly conceded that this was a Beastar candidate. Being near him was like being in the eye of a hurricane.

“Very impressive,” he said acidly. “Hard to imagine why your esteemed personage even bothers dealing with us rabble.”

“Sentimental attachment, really. I don’t want to forget my roots.”

“Well, I’m not one of them. So why me?”

“Riz was my underclassman,” he said bluntly. “I’ve often thought that if I hadn’t been so self-absorbed during my time here, then maybe I could have done something about his obsessions before it was too late. Instead, that responsibility fell to Legosi, who would have gotten himself killed if not for your interference. That wolf is a frustrating dolt sometimes, but I care for him very deeply. So call it gratitude, call it guilt, but in the end, I still owe you a debt.” He folded his delicate fingers. “Could you tell me what’s happened between you two? I don’t have the full picture.”

“Riz called Bill, didn’t he? That’s why he rushed out earlier.”

“Yes. Something about an altercation between your parents.”

“So that’s out now, too. He probably wanted to break it off and make Bill his messenger boy.” He made a disgusted sound and staggered to the windowsill. “Fine. What’s it matter, anyway.”

He started with the showdown at the bridge underpass, where he’d freed himself from Riz’s restraints and gone to call the police. The biweekly visits were summarized, contracted, the actual content of their conversations only briefly touched upon. It wasn’t until Deep Night where he started to slow down, speaking with difficulty, the recollections like metal shavings twisting through his throat. And then yesterday, when he’d returned home, and learned what Mischa had done. By the time he’d finished, the sunlight’s color had begun to bruise.

“My parents are fine,” he said. “I don’t know what they’re going to do about his mother, though. It’s out of my control. So that’s the end of that.”

“You won’t speak to him again?”

“If I did then it’d only be another nail in his coffin. If the damn police keep their noses out of it, then he’ll be fine. He knows that I’ll be fine.”

He’d been staring out the window as he said this, but when the seconds ticked past with no response from Louis, he turned back. The deer had his eyes raised to the ceiling, like he’d become fascinated by the shadow-play of his antlers.

“Why did you start visiting him?” he asked.

“That’s a popular question lately,” Pina said. “Call it obligation. I’m the one who put him there, after all. I did it for my own gratification later, but…”

“Did you?”

“What?”

“Did your motives actually change?” Louis still wouldn’t look at him. “From what I hear, you’re quite the hedonist. Civic duty doesn’t seem to fit.”

“Don’t try to psychoanalyze me,” Pina spat. “You’re a wannabe Beastar, not a shrink.”

“It’s just that I’ve been in a similar situation,” said Louis. “I kept telling myself that I only acted out of responsibility and obligation, so that I never had to think about what I actually wanted. It’s a dangerous habit. Juno had to shake me out of it herself.” He paused. “Tell me something. Did Riz ever threaten you before that kidnapping?”

Pina was deadpan. “I did throw a wrench into his attempt to kill Legosi, so yes, death threats sort of became his way of saying hello.”

“I mean physically. Did you ever feel his teeth, for example?” Pina’s eyes widened. “Well?”

“He cornered me in the bathroom one day,” said Pina, with reluctance. “Said he was going to eat me, the usual. I tried to play it off, but then he smacked his lips around my finger. Gave me quite a scare.”

Louis said, “And you liked it.”

Pina almost choked – Louis’ tone was so dry that he might have been remarking on the color of the carpet. The deer was fully focused on him now, his scar glowing in the room’s deepening murk.

“It gave me a decent shot of adrenaline, I’ll admit,” Pina said. “I brought down the house in rehearsal after. But I’d hardly-”

“You liked it,” Louis repeated. His voice was like a drill bit pushing its way into Pina’s ear. “You probably couldn’t stop thinking about it right up until you visited him in juvie.”

“You’re going to shut up now,” Pina said tightly.

“Were you disappointed to learn that predatorial offenders were muzzled? Is that why you only confessed your feelings when you saw his fangs?”

“I said shut up.”

“Despite knowing that you could have ended up like Tem-”

“So what if I had?!” Pina screamed. “Do you think he ate that alpaca because he wanted a snack, like those useless morons at the reformatory? Anyone who actually bothered to listen to him for two seconds would have understood right off what really drove him to it. Or maybe not. How could animals like them possibly comprehend that kind of passion? The need to get so close to somebody that your own body takes over and forces the issue, so that all you’re left with is a pile of meat on the floor?!” Louis held his pose, unblinking, even as Pina’s voice started to crack. “I had the least glimpse of it, the smallest taste, and nothing’s felt right since. Everything bores me. It’s all so damned shallow. And that was before I learned that he’s actually sensitive, and talented, and so miserably lonely, and he didn’t have to be, because I was right there! I just wanted him to show me that side of himself again, even if…even if it…”

“Even if it killed you,” Louis said.

Pina stood gasping for air, arms hung limp, head thumping. He was unaccustomed to these bursts of emotion off the stage; they left him feeling ill.

“I used to think carnivores’ desires were ugly,” he said weakly. “I had no idea.”

Louis sighed, then rose from his seat and crossed over to the door. Pina thought that he would leave without a word, letting him stew, his confession hanging thick in the air. But instead he flipped the light switch (Pina winced at the sudden glare; it was already dusk) and laid his palm against the wall between the office mirror and bulletin board, his face turned away from Pina, voice once again lost in hazy nostalgia.

“It was right here,” he said. “The day before my last performance as Adler – the official one, at least, not counting that nonsense with Bill – I pinned Legosi against this wall and shoved my hand into his mouth, commanding him to bite. I still remember the points of his teeth about to break my skin.” He laughed a little. “Then there was the time Juno pinned me down in the rehearsal room, declaring that she’d surpass me and become the next Beastar. Her canines glinting in the light reflected off the mirror. When she first kissed me, I felt the hard curves of those fangs through my lips. Couldn’t get that sensation out of my head. It still excites me every time.” He glanced back at Pina, whose face had contorted in bewilderment like he’d bitten a lemon. “It’s not just us, either. When Legosi first tried to sleep with Haru, she practically leapt down his throat on instinct alone. Don’t spread that around, by the way. She’d have my hide.”

“Unbelievable,” Pina groaned. “And they say carnivores are the crazy ones.”

“This society claims to be equal, but carnivores and herbivores still exist in different worlds,” said Louis. “And as I’m sure you’ve noticed, our world is rather fixated on the possibility of being eaten. We pray to ward off our own devouring, and buy charms and trinkets for protection. We have hidden signs and gestures to signal to carnivores that we’ve accepted our fate.” He clapped both hands on his cheeks. “And we’re protected by a code of law that revolves around this fear, the knowledge that, at any moment, our lives could be ended by a carnivore’s fangs. It’s a dull, paranoid, stifling existence. So is it any surprise that more and more of us are seeking the company of carnivores, in order to escape from that tedium? A forbidden attraction. That’s why Adler could only have been written by an herbivore, you know. We understand better than anyone that love and death go hand-in-hand. Though I’m very interested in seeing how Bill’s perspective transforms it further.”

His fake foot clacked as he advanced on Pina. The sheep stood paralyzed, even as Louis’ finger touched the underside of his chin and forced their eyes to meet.

“It was the other way around, wasn’t it?” Louis asked softly. “You said you went there out of obligation and stayed for pleasure. But in truth, you went looking for that taboo thrill, and stayed because you felt responsible. Because you cared about him.”

“Yes,” Pina said.

“And do you really think abandoning him now is the best move?”

“It’s the only move.” Pina knocked Louis’ hand away. “Good or bad has nothing to do with it anymore. If the law gets involved-”

“You’re damned either way,” said Louis. “That safe, simple life has nothing to offer animals like us. I doubt a fangless kiss will ever satisfy you again. As for Riz, if he truly feels the way you think he does, and he doesn’t receive any closure for those feelings – if he’s forced to choke them back like he did with Tem – then they’ll eat him from the inside out. And it won’t stop, understand? The herbivores who never learned to untangle love and death, the carnivores who get their hearts confused with their stomachs. Hunger twists everything. It can't be repressed. If we don’t accept this, then the tragedy that befell this school will keep repeating itself, over and over, endlessly.”

It was a florid speech – one could imagine that Louis had been privately rehearsing parts of it for some time. But his words were vehement, and when he mentioned tragedy, that smooth face warped around his scar. Tem’s death hung over far more than this school. It had been the start of a chain reaction that had almost consumed the whole city. The thought of similar seeds being sown everywhere, under their society’s humdrum routine, made even Pina feel a tingle of dread.

“You’re such a visionary,” he said, still holding onto the deadpan. “Then what do you think I should do? Stand arm-in-arm with Riz against the injustices of this world?”

“It’s a charming image, but no,” Louis replied. “Merely finish what you started. Give yourselves the dignity of one last meeting. I can’t honestly say what will become of it, especially with Riz’s legal situation, but you’ve disregarded the consequences up until this point. What’s one more time?”

“That’s it? For all your grand plans elsewhere, I was expecting something more complex.”

Louis shrugged. “I’m not as impressive as you seem to think. Really, I’m just following the example set by Legosi. Who knows where I’d be without him.”

“Same thing goes for me,” Pina muttered.

“That idiot,” they both said in unison. The room’s heavy atmosphere dissipated. Louis awkwardly coughed into his fist.

“I think we’ve pretty well spoiled the club’s rehearsal time by now,” he said. “Shall we get back?”

“Sure.” Pina tossed Louis’ coat at him. “Let’s get this over with.”

He still slow-walked down the hall, Louis deliberately staying behind him – maybe just in case he tried to double back and escape out the office window. Pina doubted he’d be met with a hero’s welcome. With an advocate like Bill, he’d be lucky not to get burned at the stake.

“One other thing,” Louis piped up. “A lot of us herbivores harbor a self-destructive streak. Try not to over-indulge it, all right? If you don’t take care of yourself, it does a disservice to the ones who care about you.”

“Speaking from personal experience?”

“Achingly so, in this case.”

“Well, we’re about to find out if the animals in that room qualify.” He stopped in front of the door. “Let’s see which of us is right.”

The rehearsal room was silent, the students assembled in rough clusters across the floor or beside the mirrors. Pina had low expectations, but his heart still sank a little when their faces turned to him. All of them were grave. Louis had already entered behind him and didn’t sound in any hurry to move. He regarded them all, fists bunched at his sides, awaiting the flood of recriminations.

Bill had set up with Aoba near the stage itself. He rubbed his neck and looked askance.

“Brace yourself,” he said.

Pina blinked. “What’s that supposed to-”

There was a fleeting impression of brown fur an instant before Juno’s palm cracked against the side of his face with gunshot force. He staggered, world spinning, and then she seized him and hugged him tight enough that his ribs crackled like cellophane. His fingers splayed in silent agony as she whispered fiercely into his ear.

“I hate you so much,” she said.

“Getting mixed signals,” Pina wheezed.

She grabbed him by the shoulders and held him at arm’s length. Her expression was a volatile mixture of emotions and none of them were pleased to see each other – bared teeth, pinned ears, tearful eyes. The numbness on his cheek was already giving way to burning pain.

“Why?” she asked him, and he tried to find some excuse for all this, his traitorous liaison with the infamous murderer of Cherryton, but then her tears began to spill. “Why do you keep doing this to yourself?!”

Pina had no response to that. It wasn’t in the script.

“First Legosi, then Jack, now this. No, Jack was after, wasn’t it? You were seeing Riz even back then! You think I didn’t wonder how he must have been doing in there? If I’d have known you were going…but that shouldn’t have mattered. I should have helped no matter what. Instead I gossiped about you. I’m your co-star, for God’s sake!”

His mouth made a game attempt to get him killed. “Is that relevant?”

“Oh, screw you, Pina!” She let him go and backed off, weeping openly now. “You don't need to put all this weight on your shoulders. I’m supposed to be there for you! How can I do that if you keep pretending to be such a bastard all the time?”

“Louis, could you please put a leash on her or something?” He was still in the same stiff pose as when she’d grabbed him, afraid that any movement would trigger her fight reflex.

“The leash is at home,” Louis drawled. “I came for business, not pleasure.”

But he gently took her by the arm and led her away, and the rest of the club drew closer – save Rylan, who just glanced at him, rolled her eyes, and went back to her computer. He felt a pang of intense gratitude for that.

“I’m just glad it’s finally out in the open,” said Kai. “Here I’d guessed that you and Bill were fucking each other.”

“You must have been under a lot of stress,” said Vim, as Aoba held back a snarling Bill.

Fudge raised a finger. “Sorry, excuse me, what did Louis say about a leash?”

“Was it really worth keeping this under wraps all this time, dude?” Tao asked. “It’s not like we’re strangers to carni-herbi stuff. Me and Kibi have been at it for…how many months now, Keebs?”

“Ten as of next week,” said Kibi.

“Shit, that long already? Time flies.”

“Only when I’m with you,” Kibi said sweetly. There were several “aww”s. Kai mimed shooting himself in the head.

“You’re all okay with this?” Pina said, massaging his cheek. “Really? Everyone? What about you, Els? How’s it feel to know I’ve been sneaking out with Tem’s killer?”

The room’s growing chatter stopped short. Their heads turned to Els, who’d isolated herself against the brickwork like she was preparing for a mugshot. She hadn’t stopped watching him since he’d come into the room.

“I don’t know if I can ever forgive Riz for what he did,” she said. “But Riz isn’t the one standing here right now. Why should I blame you for reaching out to him? It’s not like I wanted him to suffer. Those fights with Legosi were bad enough.” She nervously pushed her fingers through her wool. “Pina, were you afraid I’d hate you?”

That put him on the back foot. “You were the one I was most concerned about. I was…comfortable here. I didn’t want to spoil it.”

Aoba had successfully pacified Bill. “I haven’t forgotten the shock egg thing. You and Bill saved one of my fellow avians from becoming soup. You’re a pain in the ass, Pina, but I’m in your corner.”

“This is actually a relief,” said Silvie, who’d taken refuge with Tierra and Lamar. “I’d gotten it into my head that Riz was some kind of monster, but if you like him, then he must be handso- I mean, he c-can’t be all bad.” She began to fidget. “Because you, it’s just that you’re so refined, I mean you p-probably have really high standards, n-n-not like I ever…” Her voice was ratcheting up to a desperate squeak. “Could someone else say something, please?”

“If Bill thinks you’re okay then Kai thinks you’re okay,” said Lamar. “And if Kai thinks you’re okay then I think you’re okay. Okay?”

“I still really want to talk about the leash thing,” said Fudge.

Juno had calmed down, her and Louis each draping an arm across each other. Bill looked at him with bemused relief. Pina could only guess how the club must have reacted as he’d parceled out this news, but at least in its aftermath, he couldn’t see any resentment, no accusations. He felt untethered from himself.

“This school’s guiding principle was equality, but I always thought it was best represented here,” said Louis. “On that stage, we can make the audience believe in a different world. A better one, if you want. Why would these animals cast you out for trying to connect with someone else?”

Louis had big plans for society, with the Horns Conglomerate’s influence. But he’d said that it had been Legosi who’d inspired him, with his bumbling romanticism and fierce sense of justice. Louis in turn seemed to have passed his passions onto Bill, who’d fired up the entire club. All of them, linked and aglow like a constellation – and what about him? Where did he fit into this pattern?

Bill had appeared at his side. He laid a hand on Pina’s shoulder. “You good?”

“No,” said Pina. “But I’m better than I was this morning.”

Juno said, “I think rehearsal is a bust for today. Sorry, Louis.”

“Don’t be.” He pecked her on the cheek and set her tail wagging. “I’ll be here on opening night, with high expectations.”

“Pina, what are you going to do?” asked Els. “Can we help?”

“I’ve got a couple ideas,” said Bill. “But if I had to guess, Pina’s gonna want to handle this next part by himself. Right?”

Pina stood there like someone punch-drunk. He pushed Bill’s hand off him and walked forward, across the threshold of empty space between himself and the other students. He was tired. After several steps, his shoulders began to shake. But he didn’t break down, he at least managed to do that much, even when the Drama Club rushed forward to meet him.

*             *             *

Pina: Hey.
Pina: First of all, my mom’s fine. No one blames you for what happened.
Pina: I understand if you don’t want us to go any further. I screwed up at Deep Night. That was my fault.
Pina: But I don’t want that to be my last memory of you. I don’t think you do, either.
Pina: We deserve a better ending than this.
Pina: I’m waiting in Meteor Square.
Pina: Come find me.

Chapter Text

Mischa watched television.

It was about all she could do most nights; her job left her too tired, her life too closed-in, for anything else. She would sit on the ratty, springworn couch with the screen’s depleted light playing over her face until it lulled her to sleep, and at some point around midnight she would jerk awake, turn it off, drink some water, and then brush her teeth and go to bed. This routine and others had scored its marks into her, ineradicable as the gouges that her claws had left in the doorframes and cutting boards and tabletops.

The TV news babbled on. Fuel prices had risen. There was a proposed tax on cigarettes under debate, especially concerning how the tax would affect large-carnivore brands. Devourings remained at low ebb for the third straight month since the disastrous spike last year, when the bombings had struck the city. Meteor Festival preparations were expected to begin next month. A Horns Conglomerate spokesman had announced they were developing new banking initiatives. These banalities washed over her, leaving no impression.

In the back of the apartment, Riz’s bedroom door opened and shut. Mischa didn’t turn around. They had seen each other as seldom as possible in the two days since she’d paid that visit to Pina’s house. By the time she arrived home from work, Riz would already be in his room, nothing but sepulchral quiet on the other side of the closed door, the scent of the dinner he’d eaten still lingering in the halls. He would leave only to use the bathroom (its door still broken, now held shut by a length of duct tape) or return to work in the morning, and she would stay in her own room, clad in her hospital scrubs, waiting for him to leave so they’d be spared the indignity of eye contact. They were a pair of ghosts, each haunting the other, and the apartment’s atmosphere soon became stifling as poison gas.

So she continued to watch TV, listening for the creak of the bathroom door. When it didn’t come, and Riz’s footfalls drew closer, she decided that he must instead be headed to the kitchen for water or honey. But he walked past that too, and then the footsteps stopped, and he loomed beside the couch, clad in the misshapen hoodie and jeans he’d worn when he’d been released from juvenile hall. His muzzle was strapped on.

They stared each other down. The television’s mutated cadence filled the silence between them.

“Where are you going?” Mischa finally asked.

“Meteor Square. Pina wanted to see me.” The eyes above his mask were impassive and dull.

Mischa bolted upright in her seat. “Riz, no. You can’t.”

“I can. I’m going.”

This TV was insufferable; she grabbed the remote and snapped it off. “Meteor Square is always filled with police. Why do you think he’d want you to come there, of all places?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care. He asked me to go, so I’m going.” He was using her mode of speech, the lifeless monotone that brooked no dissent. “Since last summer, he’s always been there for me. How could I refuse when he asks me to be there for him?”

She couldn’t get up. It was like her joints had all calcified. And even if she had, it wouldn’t have mattered. Her son had grown so tall. His silhouette in the apartment’s dim light stretched like a melted candle.

“Riz, please. I made a mistake before, I understand that you care about him, but you have to think about the future. It was a miracle you got away from that place as soon as you did. You have a second chance, but if you keep spending time around herbivores like this then they’ll just take it away from-”

“Sometimes I wonder if this is how they must feel,” he said. “Always looking over their shoulders, afraid their lives will end any minute. It must drive them crazy. But I didn’t end up in juvie because of herbivores. Tem never hurt anybody. It was me.” The merest quaver had entered his voice. “And I’m trying not to hate myself for it, Mom, I really am, but I would have failed a long time ago if it wasn’t for Pina. He showed me that there was still a world waiting for me outside those walls. You say that you’re worried about my future, that you think I shouldn’t have been locked up in the first place. But where was this in all the months I spent hoping you’d come see me again? Where were you?”

Mischa knew the answer to that question. She’d spoken them not long ago, spit them into the upturned and weeping face of Pina’s mother. She could have told Riz of the fury that had forced her to seal herself like a lockbox when she came to talk to him, in case she lost control and tried to rip down those walls herself; the fear that the place would transform him somehow, harden him, trample his future and leave nothing but one more sullen monster wandering the black market, joined by the fear that he would come to hate her for her silence, which stretched into days and weeks; the loneliness that had been sharpened by his departure from her life, first at school and now in jail, where no one would look at him kindly. Or she could have scraped all that aside and given him the truth, two short sentences that had twisted and carved her up inside in all the time they’d been left unsaid: You’re all I have. Please don’t leave me.

But she couldn’t. Her jaw, which had broken loose under the strain of her rage, now remained stubbornly wired shut. She only watched as Riz’s shoulders slumped – out of guilt, maybe, for bringing up her absence – and he turned and walked to the exit. He pulled his boots on, opened the door, and noiselessly pulled it shut behind him.

Mischa was left alone with the uneasy movements of her neighbors, her reflection caged in the black pane of the television screen. It would have been appropriate to cry. But it took a long time before she even managed that.

*             *             *

Meteor Square was one of the city’s central gathering points, a sweeping flagstone plaza offset from the surrounding streets, like a heart surrounded by its arteries. The plaza was ringed by a wide glass walkway erected high enough for even giraffes to pass underneath without complaint, an architectural marvel, and both the glass and the stones were treated with flecks of glazed glass that cast scintillating reflections in even the weakest light. During the Meteor Festival, or any other holiday celebrations for that matter, the displays constructed here would take advantage of the square’s prismatic properties – they’d cast dazzling lights across its whole expanse, so that the square would seem adrift in a field of multicolored stars.

This area had also been one of the bombers’ targets. The explosion had shattered the walkway and scarred the surrounding stones, but Meteor Square was so iconic and so vital to the city’s appearance of normalcy that repairs had been prioritized just below hospitals and other vital infrastructure. If one didn’t know exactly where the blast had taken place, it would be hard to notice the plaza had ever been damaged at all, save for a slight discoloration of the repaired stones, or maybe how the crowd unconsciously drifted around the region like it had been contaminated with evil spirits.

Nevertheless, life went on, and small spotlights had been installed on the walkway’s underside to create a weaker, fainter version of that famous stellar hallucination – City Hall had said it was part of a long-planned renovation, but more cynical animals believed it was a ploy to keep them gathering here, reinforce the illusion of business as usual. But it worked; beasts of all species wandered through these lights like moths, eating and chatting and laughing, interspersed by blue-capped police officers with folded hands and watchful eyes. Meteor Square endured. The city’s heart kept beating.

Riz’s own heart thumped harder as he approached the square, counterpointed by the stabbing rhythm of his migraine. The stress of the last few days had intensified his headaches to the point where even honey barely muffled them, and this crowd and these cops weren’t helping matters. But he could hardly blame Pina for choosing to meet him in such a public spot. He wouldn’t have felt safe otherwise.

Except that wasn’t true, Riz thought. Pina was doing this for him. Riz wouldn’t have trusted himself to be with him somewhere secluded.

As if to confirm this theory, he saw a shape materialize among the crowd, just beneath the outer walkway. White-wooled with horns like a crown of bronze. Pina waved an arm. After a moment, Riz waved back.

Passersby gave him a few odd glances as he walked over to Pina, this melancholy giant with his muzzle and barely-fitting clothes. He kept his gaze on the sheep; looking around would only make him more suspicious. The closer he came, the faster his heart beat, like he was struggling uphill. But then they stood within arm’s reach of one another, and the world didn’t end. No one rushed at him with handcuffs at the ready.

“Hey,” said Riz.

“Hi there.”

“Sorry about the hoodie. I know what you said before, but my other clothes are still in the wash.”

Pina smiled wanly. “You look fine. Walk with me?”

They crossed under the walkway and wandered around the central square, the crowd’s conversation blending into meaningless noise like ocean waves. There were food stalls set up at the sidewalks outside, but neither Pina nor Riz offered to treat the other. Neither had an appetite.

“How’s school been going?” Riz asked. “The play is in just a couple weeks, right?”

“Certainly is. We should survive until opening night, assuming nothing spontaneously combusts. Tickets and posters are printed, costumes are finished, nervous breakdowns are mostly over with.” He swept his wool back. “I may actually have a last-minute tweak to the script. Been thinking about Wander’s final lines.”

“What did you want to change?”

“I’m not sure yet. Need to have it all straight in my head before I bring it to Bill. But I’ve finally settled into the role, I suppose.”

“That’s good.”

“How about you?” Pina asked. “Been doing okay?”

“Sure, I’ve been fine. Nothing special at work.” He coughed, severing that line of conversation, and looked about the square. “It’s nice here.”

Pina frowned and passed his hand through the air – those drifting flecks of light only manifested from certain angles, so if you weren’t looking at them just so, they would disappear.

“A bit gaudy, if I’m being honest,” he said.

“Did you ever come here when you were little?”

“Just about everyone did. It was nice enough when I was in elementary school.”

“My dad brought me to a Meteor Festival here once, but I don’t really remember it. He must have carried me on his shoulders or something.” He turned in place, eyeing the walkways. “Or we just stood on that thing.”

“It got blown up, you know,” Pina said. “A whole chunk of it turned into shrapnel.”

Riz winced. “It must have been horrible.”

“Yes. And just look at how well they papered it over. Not perfectly, though. You see?” He pointed at the western edge of the plaza. “That’s where the bomb went off. Everyone’s just sort of drifting around it. I came by right after the repairs were done, and that still hasn’t changed.”

“You’ve been here a lot lately?”

“A few times. A morbid fixation, I guess you could call it. Wondering what could drive someone to such a thing.” He sighed. “Normally I wouldn’t give a damn, but I couldn’t exactly ignore it after seeing Legosi hospitalized. That fool wolf was wrapped up like a mummy.”

“I actually saw him a little while ago,” he said, and Pina raised an eyebrow. “We bumped into each other, sort of. But we talked for a little while. He’s doing okay.”

“Guess that’s all you can hope for.”

They’d ended up in the approximate center of the plaza, with a fair bit of empty space separating them from the surrounding animals – Riz’s size meant that others automatically gave him a wide berth, to say nothing of his attire. Pina grinded his toe on that glassy ground like he was stubbing out a cigarette. When he spoke again, his voice was casual and low.

“My mother has a medical condition,” he said. “Some kind of muscular disorder. Whenever she's scared or stressed, she locks up. It usually passes in a few minutes, but if she gets a really bad shock then it can take longer. Whatever happened that day put her down for a while. But it’s passed. She’s fine.” He looked up at Riz. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Okay,” he said dully.

“She seems pretty dead-set on not getting the police involved. Hasn’t told me why, but still, I don’t think you have anything to worry about there. Are things okay between you and your mother? Tolerable, at least?”

“She knows what she did was wrong. But we’re not talking anymore. Or when we do, I say things that I shouldn’t.” He gazed off into the distance, the darkness between buildings. “I’m going to move out. It’s more than I can take, right now.”

“You’ll cut her off?”

“I don’t think I could go that far. I owe her too much for that. But I can’t stay there. I’ll be fine, I have a job. Maybe I’ll stick to work and not bother with going back to school. It would give me something to focus on.”

Pina asked, “What about me?”

That snapped him back to attention. There wasn’t a hint of insincerity in Pina’s expression. Nothing sardonic or sarcastic. Riz didn’t know what to say at first. He’d expected Pina to make this easy.

“I’ll be off probation in a couple of years. No more muzzle, no more pills. We can catch up then, maybe. See where our lives took us.” He tried and failed to sound upbeat. “But we should take a break from each other, don’t you think? I’ll always remember the time you spent with me, Pina. I’m grateful for it. But since I got out, it’s just been too…messy.” He laughed, kneading his massive hands together. “Be pretty stupid if I got arrested after you helped me get out of juvie, right?”

Pina thought this over, and then nodded. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“Right,” said Riz. “But I’m glad we could see each other one last time. Like you said, we deserved a better ending than-”

“But that’s not good enough for me.”

Riz stiffened up, clenched his hands so hard his fingerbones creaked. The two of them were getting odd looks now – they made an unusual pair, and had been standing in one spot for some time.

“I’m selfish, Riz. Always have been. That’s why I first went to see you. I wanted to keep myself entertained more than anything.” Pina was still and upright as a stake pounded into the earth. “But my priorities changed. I couldn’t stop thinking about how you must have felt. In that reformatory, or outside. I wanted to make you happy, even when I didn’t really know how to do it. Now we’re here. And I think you’re right. Letting you go would be the best thing for you, in the end. But I can’t do it. That’s the trap I’m in, understand?” His eyes gleamed bright. “I won’t be able to stop chasing after you. Because I love you.”

Riz’s chest had gone thumbscrew-tight. “Pina, please don’t do this.”

“I have to. No matter how this ends, I’m going to get it right this time,” Pina said. “I love you, Riz. The only question is, do you feel the same way about me?”

Tight around his heart. Tight around his head. These straps, this pain, the invisible hands clamped all around him and locking him in place. He tried to answer. He made an honest effort. But it was like the muzzle had shrunk, so that he couldn’t move his mouth the least inch, reducing the words to just more noise, broken syllables that trickled between his teeth like flecks of glass, and then his breath broke too and Pina multiplied in his vision, the pale shape swimming and blotting out everything, and he stood and wept and couldn’t respond.

“That’s new,” Pina said, with feeble levity. “Usually crying happens after the breakups. Riz, it’s okay.”

He managed to spit something out. “I can’t.”

“Why not? I can bear it.” He reached out to him. “Whatever you say, it won’t hurt me.”

“Yes it will!” he cried, and both Pina and several nearby animals pulled away. “I can’t say it, because I do! I have, for so long! That’s why you have to leave, before I kill you, too!”

There was no threat in those words. They left his throat in a dismal, hopeless wail that drove him to his knees like they’d stolen all his breath from him, taken everything that was in him in exchange for their speaking. And his sobs deepened, they leapt, they grew until he could only raise his head to the sky and scream them out, all this loneliness and loathing finding release as a desolate noise rendered all the more unnatural by his muzzle that constricted his mouth, warping it into something that every listener found horribly fascinating; the sound spread throughout Meteor Square like ink in water and silenced every other conversation in its wake, so that one after another these comfortable beasts stopped talking and turned to the square’s center. They gathered there, civilians and police alike, but when they found the source of this miserable din, they stopped short and did nothing, because they had no understanding of what they saw there. Nothing about the image fit, this massive carnivore prostrate and howling before this slim herbivore, who stood before him without fear, who didn’t pay the growing crowd any attention at all. Before long, all of Meteor Square had reformed around this nucleus – the brown bear and the Dall sheep.

Riz’s cries ebbed. They trailed off to hiccups. And that was when Pina spoke, his clear and confident voice ringing in the silence that Riz had left behind.

“If I begged for my life, would that satisfy you?” he asked. “Even if my life has been meaningless, my life is mine alone. And my fear of dying is also mine alone.”

Riz raised his head at that, bewildered. He recognized those words – they were from Adler, the opening lines of Wander the lost soul.

“I never had any hope for the future,” said Pina. “Never cared what might happen to me. I took my fun where I could. I told myself that I lived in the moment, so that I wouldn’t have to think about what might lie ahead. And it worked, for a while. Then I met you. Before I knew it, the only moments I lived for were the ones that we spent together. I want more of them. Enough so that I can help you understand how much you mean to me.” His voice cracked, but he grit his teeth and pressed on. “If you feel this way, too…if there’s anything at all between us, something we can build on…then isn’t that better than running away? The future’s going to be uncertain no matter what. And even if I’m scared of what tomorrow might bring, I won’t ever be scared of you. This society, your instincts…I’m strong enough to bear it all.”

Slowly, Pina reached up, cradled the sides of Riz’s muzzle. Tears spilled freely from his brilliant eyes and hung like diamonds in the curls of his wool, but his voice held firm, carried itself across the crowd.

“You can take my life,” he said. “But I won’t cower away from you.”

Utter stillness. Then, Riz returned Pina’s touch, his trembling hands encircling the sheep’s waist. They stayed like that, Meteor Square’s false stars drifting across them, marking them in outline – a new constellation formed from this conjoined shape.

The crowd stirred. From its depths came a new sound, familiar and yet so out of place that it took the two of them a moment to comprehend what it was. It was scattered and hesitant, but still unmistakable: applause. For the first time they became aware of the mob they’d attracted. They pulled their hands away from each other and looked at this sea of faces, some wary, some dumbfounded, but more than a few approving or impressed, and the clapping grew louder.

“What’s going on?” Riz whispered.

“They think we’re street performers.” Pina’s grin was shaky and disbelieving, but genuine. “Take a bow, Riz.”

He helped Riz to his feet and they bowed to the gathered multitude, Pina with a flourish, Riz stiff as though his spine was on a hinge, but as they did so, Pina’s theory was proven right – the applause spread even faster once it was acknowledged, and was even joined by a few distant whistles and cheers.

It took some time before Riz could convince himself that this was not a dream – that he hadn’t drifted off in bed after receiving Pina’s text and imagined those words, these lights, this audience. Even when Pina grabbed his arm tight and he felt the sheep’s warmth, listening to him shout his thanks to the crowd for their time and attention, he still didn’t quite believe it. Because, in that moment, there was only the warmth. He could no longer feel his headache at all.

*             *             *

The police, for their part, hadn’t entirely shared the crowd’s opinion of what had transpired that evening – one particular officer, a handsome but deeply unimpressed peacock, had taken Pina and Riz aside after the crowd had begun to break apart, and quietly told them that they had better make tracks while they still could. They took the hint and hurried off without paying much attention to where they were going, and it took several blocks before they realized that they’d managed to completely miss any nearby train stations. But that was all right. They had time.

They made their way back through the side streets and byways, where the quarters were close and the lighting intermittent. Riz walked with his arm around Pina, who pulled it tighter around himself like a coat, nuzzling against Riz’s side. There was a new dimension to their intimacy now; they clutched at each other as if they wanted to merge into one. Riz could feel the sheep’s heartbeat against his palm.

“What happens now?” he asked. Their pelts were briefly stained pink by the flickering marquee of a massage-parlor sign.

“What do you want to happen?” Pina asked.

“For us to…be together. More than how we were.” He gulped. “If that makes sense.”

“Not the most eloquent phrasing, but yes. It does.” He ran his fingers through the fur atop Riz’s hand. “And it’s mutual. But there’s a problem, of course.”

“Yeah. Our families, right?”

“Were you really planning to move away from your mom?”

“I don’t know what I was planning. Would it help? Make it easier for us, if I got away from her?”

“Doubt it. She’d resent me for it, and who knows how ugly that would become over time. And then there’s my parents. It’ll be really hard to talk them around if they think your mother’s breathing down our necks.”

“So what should we do? I don’t think we can run away together. It’d make me a fugitive, and that’d get you in trouble…”

“Though it is a charming thought, isn’t it?” They passed through a billow of stinking steam from some unseen grate. “There are days when I can certainly see the appeal of a little cottage in the countryside. But you’re right. The law complicates things. So we’d have to keep it simple.”

“It sounds like you have a plan,” said Riz.

“Mm-hm. But you’re not going to like it.”

“What is it?”

“Remember what happened when Legosi first confronted you outside the nurse’s office?” Pina asked.

“Well, you kind of popped out of nowhere…”

“As I do.”

“…and then told us that you were dropping off Kibi’s things. Then you said that you overheard everything, even though Legosi tried to shut you up. And then you…” Riz stopped in his tracks, eyes wide with horror. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Pina sighed. “This isn’t going to be pleasant. But I’m pretty sure it’s the best option we have.”

“My mom will agree to just about anything, but what about your parents?”

“Leave them to me. I’ll let you know when I have more details.”

“Okay,” said Riz, but he still didn’t move. Pina peered up at him quizzically, saw him tugging his muzzle with his free hand.

“Starting to chafe?” Pina asked.

“Not really. It’s just. Um.” Riz’s voice dropped to a lower register. “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

“Yet I notice you’re not doing it.”

He shook his head. “I still don’t feel like I deserve to. Not yet.”

“Well, that’s a stupid reason, but I won’t press the issue.” He looked around at the dingy, dripping alley. “The atmosphere’s no good for it, anyway.”

Riz let Pina go and stepped back. Pina’s exasperation was evident, but instead of walking off, Riz dropped to one knee, wincing as some unknown condensate from the gutters overhead seeped through his jeans. He folded his arms around Pina and hugged him close. Pina went stiff for a second out of sheer surprise, then melted into his touch, smiled into the fur of Riz’s thick neck.

“You’d better burn these shitty clothes after tonight,” he said.

Riz laughed. “I can’t believe you quoted Adler back there.”

“It was still true. Every word.” Pina found a part of Riz’s cheek uncovered by the muzzle or its straps, and kissed it softly. “Let’s go.”

They would part ways at the train station, Pina returning to Cherryton, Riz to the apartment where Mischa still waited, restless and bleary-eyed. The evening still held its fair share of challenges, and the days ahead even more so; everything was uncertain, and neither of them were optimistic creatures. The way their hearts thumped was not due to affection alone. But in this moment, they had each other, and the knowledge that each wanted nothing else than to be in the other’s embrace. They emerged from the alleys and into the city lights, which rendered them indistinct, and then swallowed them whole.

Chapter Text

The restaurant was called Sharpes, and it was one of many establishments that existed on the half-step between family and fine dining – the décor trended towards soft blues and browns, with a strong emphasis on hurricane lamps, and Zoozle reviews were solid, with special attention given to the nut roast and the garlic-sautéed artichokes. It did a brisk business throughout the afternoon and had plenty of table seating, and conversation from other diners was lively without becoming rowdy. It was affordable, mostly child-free, and perfectly happy to accommodate mixed-species tables.

Pina always did know how to pick a venue.

It was late afternoon, and he and his family had been in the restaurant’s waiting area for several minutes now. Niles paced on the spot, toying with his shirt collar, while Tess sat meditatively near the entrance, flexing and unflexing her fingers, testing them for unwanted stiffness. Pina himself was rooted to the spot, hands on his hips, tapping his foot. Sheep weren’t exactly the most threatening creatures, but the other animals hanging around here kept a cautious eye on the two rams in particular. The air around them felt explosive.

Niles went over to Pina and nudged him. “Nervous?”

“It shouldn’t take this long to confirm things,” Pina growled.

“Management probably saw who’s waiting for us and started battening down the hatches. Can’t blame them, really.”

Pina gave him a long-suffering look. “Dad, can you not? We haven’t even been seated yet.”

“Yeah, that’s when the fun really starts. You want to worry about somebody, worry about your mother when we’re staring down those two. If you ask me, they both ought to be wearing muzzles.”

Pina opened his mouth again, but Tess beat him to it: “Niles, could you come here, please?”

Niles hustled to her side, put a hand on her shoulder. “What is it? You feeling okay?”

Tess took his wrist and held it. She held it quite tightly. In fact, Niles quickly received an education in his wife’s impressive grip strength. Her cutglass blue eyes bored through him.

“I’m fine,” she said quietly. “But I’d like to remind you that we’re here for Pina. If you shoot your mouth off and ruin this for him, I won’t forgive you. Understand?”

“Mom! Dad! They’re ready for us!”

Tess released Niles and he grunted something noncommittal, massaging his wrist. She still allowed him to help her up and walk her over to Pina, taking small, deliberate steps, just in case her knees decided they no longer wanted to bend. The ordinary commotion inside the restaurant was enough to send pins and needles through her. No telling how her treacherous body might react when she saw their dinner guests.

They were led through the interior – the lighting soft but still clear, so as not to inconvenience guests who lacked night vision – and into an unassuming corner, where their table awaited. Mischa and Riz were already seated there, and Niles boggled at them despite himself.

“Holy shit, look at the size of him,” he said.

Pina was unamused. “Yes, Dad, he’s a brown bear. They’re on the tall side.”

“Tall is one thing, but it’s like his growth spurt started and never stopped…okay, okay, I’ll shut up. Let’s get this over with.”

The greeter, a well-coiffed Golden Retriever whose typical cheeriness seemed somewhat subdued, showed them to their seats and said that someone would be with them shortly. The surrounding diners were already giving them strange looks as they pulled out their chairs – Riz and Mischa took up as much space on one side of the table as all three sheep did on the other, and Riz’s muzzle was firmly secured. At least he’d gotten some other clothes, even if he’d had to resort to the thrift shops, and was now wearing a red-and-black plaid button-up and khakis, both of which were slightly frayed at the cuffs. He gave Pina a timid wave as they sat down, Pina across from Riz, their respective parents across from each other.

Pina leaned forward, hands folded together.

“Sorry we kept you waiting,” he said.

It was three days since Pina and Riz had met in Meteor Square, and the first time they’d seen each other since then, though there had been a lot of texting back and forth as they fervently arranged this get-together. When Riz and Legosi had nearly mauled each other after dropping off a freshly-dismembered Kibi almost two years ago, Pina had defused their standoff by dragging them off to lunch, so they’d been forced to hold a civilized discussion in a calm and public space. He and Riz had both cajoled their parents into repeating that scene.

Getting them here had been easy enough. Mischa, as Riz had predicted, was quick to acquiesce to anything that would get her son talking to her again and dispel some of the awful paranoia that had plagued her since she’d attacked Tess; at least after today, she’d reasoned, there would be no doubt whether or not she was bound for jail. Tess had also agreed without much fanfare, and Niles begrudgingly let himself be dragged along.

Pina had been nervous about his father – he’d been snappish and solemn the whole way over – but that was nothing compared to how he felt when he finally saw Mischa in the flesh. It was the similarity to Riz that unnerved him, obvious even if you discounted their species, but while Riz had always been expressive around Pina, Mischa’s face was like a block of wood smeared with charcoal. Pina couldn’t get any read on her at all, though he did notice that her claws had been clipped and filed down to the quick.

Their server appeared, a young female Sika deer who, underneath her maintained smile, gave the impression that she would rather be anywhere else on earth right now, including six feet beneath it. She made an effort nonetheless, doling out their menus.

“Welcome to Sharpes! My name is Nara and I’ll be your server today,” she chirped. The menus went untouched. Her smile was clearly hanging by a thread. “Um, would you like to start with something to drink…?”

Niles leaned over and produced a roll of bills. “Sweetheart, do us a favor and maybe steer clear of this table for a little while, okay?”

After a quick glance around, she made the money disappear.

“Just water?” she asked, sotto voce.

“That’s fine, thanks.”

She scurried away, leaving the five of them once again staring each other down like the restaurant had become a war room. Pina cleared his throat. He’d left his typical personality at the door today, but he still kept his voice brisk, tried to break through the thunderclouds forming in the atmosphere.

“I guess we should start with introductions,” he said. “I’m Pina, of course, and this is my mother, Tess, and my father, Niles.”

“I’m Riz. Pleasure to meet you.” Riz gestured to the graven bear at his side. “This is my mom-”

“Mischa,” she finished, in arid tones.

Mischa’s head swiveled in Tess’ direction, and Tess’ muscles responded in kind, all going snare-drum tight. This was far too reminiscent of the encounter in her kitchen earlier that week. Niles also tensed up, ready to leap to her defense if necessary, but Mischa addressed her with no emotion, no hostility.

“Before we get to the matter at hand,” she said. “I owe you an apology. You invited me into your home and I acted shamefully. There’s no excuse for it.” She glanced at Riz, who nodded. “I’ve been waiting for the police to come knocking at our door, but Riz tells me that you don’t intend to press charges. Is that correct?”

Tess got her jaw working. “That’s the plan.”

“Why?” That one syllable carried a heavy freight of doubt. It took Tess a moment to answer.

“When you had me in your claws,” she said, and had to stop, because the memory alone stiffened her up again. “It was terrifying, yes. But I remember everything you told me. You were concerned for your son above all else. I think we have that in common. It’s a challenging situation our children have put us into.” Pina had the decency to look bashful. “With that in mind, I don’t believe that getting the police involved would be helpful. For any of us.”

“Thank you,” Riz said, mostly on reflex. He shrank in his seat as all heads turned to him, but then the server arrived with their drinks. She doled them out, Niles gave her a thumbs-up, and then she vanished again. The water went untouched.

“Now, about this ‘challenging situation,’” said Pina. “Riz and I have both made it clear that we want to be together. This has been met with some…skepticism, by pretty much everyone. But I would like for us to argue our case.”

Mischa’s voice darkened. “And if I say no, then I imagine you’ll reconsider those assault charges.”

“That’s not true,” said Pina. “I won’t let our relationship be the source of another tedious schism between herbivores and carnivores. It’s too good for that. We want it to continue, but we’ve both agreed that it either happens with the approval of everyone here or it doesn’t happen at all.”

The she-bear watched him, unblinking. Pina’s bright stare matched her dull black one. Though physically he hadn’t changed beyond the length of his wool, there seemed to be little resemblance between this sheep and the one in the photos she’d perused not long ago.

Niles spoke up. “Don’t assume that you’re the only one who’s not totally onboard with this shit, either. My wife’s apparently willing to go with whatever Pina wants, but I’ve got some objections of my own. In fact, let’s get the most obvious one out of the way first. Riz.”

Riz jerked to attention. “Yessir.”

“Pina’s spoken pretty highly of you, but there’s one bit he keeps tiptoeing around. Maybe he doesn’t think it bears mentioning, on account of it showing up in all the newspapers.” Niles’ gaze was steely. “I’m not going to rehash it here, especially with all the other animals around, but is there anything about what you did that we should know about? Anything that might put us at ease?”

Riz pondered, then shook his head sadly. “I don’t think so. Whatever I shared would make me look worse, if anything. All I can tell you is that I regret it. Every day.”

“I should hope so. But you get why I’m a little worried about Pina becoming another one of those ‘regrets,’ yeah?”

“Watch how you talk to him,” Mischa growled. “I don’t care how you see me, but he doesn’t deserve to be treated like a criminal.”

“Lady, he is a criminal.” Niles said that as quietly as possible, but it was still enough to make Mischa show her fangs. “Literally. His record’s marked and everything. Pina insists that it doesn’t matter, but I’d say it’s pretty damn relevant. If you’re gonna get pissy just from me bringing it up, then this chat won’t last long.”

Pina said, “It’s not that it doesn’t matter. We’ve acknowledged it. We intend to work through it. All else aside, I think the way he reacted at Deep Night is enough evidence that I won’t end up the way Tem did. Plus there’s the muzzle.” He sighed in exasperation. “I mean, seriously, Riz? You had to wear it here, too?”

“He wears it out of concern for those around him,” said Mischa. “Which is a quality that you seem mostly unfamiliar with.”

“Now you’re shit-talking my kid?” Niles snapped. “What, you think he made all those visits for the hell of it?”

“That’s not entirely wrong,” Pina muttered.

“I am grateful that he kept Riz company during that time. But I wonder how long that commitment will last, given his history.” She fixed that lusterless stare on him. “I’ve seen your Beastbook page. You have quite the active ‘social life,’ don’t you?”

She’d dropped the quotemarks like tongs around a piece of dung. Niles was baring his own teeth now. “You spied on him, too?”

Pina clapped a hand to his forehead. “Dad, it’s a public account, it’s meant to be looked at. It’d be weirder if she didn’t check it out.”

That banked Niles’ fire somewhat. Tess gave him a quick pat on the knee.

“You never were very good with computers,” she said mildly.

“As for my quote-unquote social life,” Pina went on, “it’s dried up. It was probably going to dry up soon anyway, but none of my other relationships have felt like what I have with Riz. And believe me, that’s speaking from experience.” He looked to Riz. “This is for real. I won’t lie, it’s a little frightening. But I’m not the kind of herbivore who lets fear get in my way.”

The adults could see Riz and Pina wanting to reach for each other’s hands, thinking the better of it. The sudden silence was broken by whispery scratching, as Niles dug his nails into his horns.

“Whether or not you’re serious was never in question, far as I’m concerned,” he said. “So, okay, let’s say you get what you want out of this. What comes next? What are you going to do?”

They both blinked. They appeared taken off-guard. Pina spoke first: “Right now I think getting through this month is victory enough. The play-”

“Yeah, yeah, Albert or Alphonse or whatever you call it.”

“Adler,” Pina said dryly. “You’re doing this on purpose now.”

“The point is, what’s after that? You still gonna go to college for theatre, Pina? Doesn’t exactly pay the bills. And you, Riz – I hear you’ve already got a job, but that mark on your record’s like getting kneecapped where employment’s concerned. You might be able to move in together eventually, but you can’t make this official. You can’t get papers signed. You’ll have ordinary animals giving you the stinkeye every step of the way.”

“Niles, you’re going too far,” Tess hissed. “You shouldn’t expect them to have every step planned out.”

But this time Niles held his ground. “You know better than anyone why I’m asking this, Tess. Things don’t turn out how you expect. And that’s a rude awakening for kids especially. I’m sure that you two are crazy for each other right now. You probably think you can take on the whole world. But the world doesn’t care, and sooner or later, it’s going to show you. When that day comes, you either knuckle under and work through it, or the relationship blows up. And I look at you, Pina, and I look at Riz, and I can take a pretty good guess who’ll get hurt worse if things go bad.”

Mischa didn’t have any rebuke this time. They were all mesmerized by Niles’ speech. He laid his palms flat and hunched over, a pleading edge to his voice:

“You hear me, Riz?” he asked. “I’m trying to keep up with the times, here. But I need you to understand what I’m saying.”

Riz nodded. “Sometimes, love isn’t enough.”

That took Niles aback. “Where’d you get that from?”

“One of my coworkers. Much older than me. He had a good reason for saying it.”

“Was it ‘cause of something like this?” he asked, gesturing between the two of them.

“Almost exactly,” said Riz. “But it was a lesson I’d already learned. In the hardest way.” He rubbed the side of his muzzle. “I did it all wrong, before. My classmate never had any idea how I really felt about him. I don’t think knew it myself, until it was too late. I was just so tired of hiding myself. The meds, the fake friendliness. I thought my feelings for him would fix everything. And after…after it happened, I kept getting worse. I told myself there was nothing wrong with all those awful things I did. They were just part of a carnivore’s proper adolescence.” Riz looked down at his own claws, still sharp. “But that’s all over now. You’re saying that we have to treat this relationship like we’re adults, but the fact is, I can’t be a kid anymore no matter what. I gave up that chance. It’s why I wear this muzzle, even if I don’t have to. A reminder that things can never be how they were.”

“You don’t have to punish yourself like that,” said Pina. He sounded like he was barely holding on to his composure.

“It doesn’t feel like such a punishment anymore,” said Riz. “Who I was is different than who I am. I want it to be someone better. You’re the one who showed me that it was possible, Pina.” He addressed Niles, now. “I want to return the favor. We have to believe that we can change. If we can’t, then there’s no point to any of this. And I’m not just talking about this conversation.”

Niles held his gaze a moment longer, then dropped it. Tess hastily dabbed her eyes with her napkin. But Mischa, whose own face had gone through some strange contortions as she’d heard Riz speak, merely turned to Pina.

“He always talks about you this way,” she said. “Do you deserve it?”

“Mom,” Riz protested, but Pina’s own words left him. It was like Mischa had reached out with those dull claws and pulled him open, laid out all his doubts and insecurities like organ meat.

“You’ve lived frivolously,” she said, with leaden certainty. “That’s your right. You’re still young, after all. Your parents are worried about your safety. But I can assure you that lives are made up of more than flesh and blood. They’re measured in time. Potential. Opportunity. Riz behaved carelessly, and suffered for it. In some ways, his life is now every bit as fragile as yours. Could you take responsibility for that? Are you ready for the burden?”

“I know that I haven’t made the best first impression,” said Pina.

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“But I was making an effort with Riz. More than I’d ever put in before.”

“If what you did on Deep Night was making an effort…”

“I didn’t know what I was doing. How could I? This is new territory for all of us. If I’d only-” He realized he was starting to sound desperate and stopped, breathed, went on. “You’re right about the way I’d behaved, before meeting him. For quite a while during it as well. Some of us herbivores become…fixated on our weakness. How easily we can be killed or eaten. I thought I was facing that attitude head-on, staying in the moment, but it was a shallow way to live. Frivolous, like you said. I figured that eventually my looks would leave me and that would be the end of it. I didn’t think about the future. I didn’t care.” He tried very hard not to look at his parents’ faces. “But Riz seems to insist that there’s more to me than that. I don’t have the heart to prove him wrong.”

The tablecloth wrinkled under Pina’s fingers. His wool had become unkempt; its locks dangled and swayed. In this moment, he didn’t see other diners, or his parents, or even Riz. His world was reduced to himself and the impassive obelisk of Mischa.

“I’ve caused you both a lot of pain,” he said. “Some of it was accidental, but I’m sorry anyway. I’m trying to make up for it. I’ll keep trying. That’s my motivation. I swear to you, I will break my back to make Riz happy.”

“You shouldn’t,” Mischa replied.

Pina’s heart sank. Her response had been so curt and abrupt that it was like she hadn’t even heard him. But she kept talking, and as she did so, the measured pace of speech started to break apart, turn irregular as raindrops.

“It feels like the correct thing to do,” she said. “To sacrifice for the ones you care about. You work and you struggle to keep them safe and fed. But there’s a limit. Eventually you reach the point where you care for them but can’t stand to be around them. You don’t want to know what’s become of them. In case you’ve gotten it wrong. So you work, and you work, and all the while, they drift further away.” Her words cracked like ice. “Until you can barely recognize them at all.”

“Mom, no. It’s not like that.” Riz tried to take her arm, but she gently pushed him away. She wouldn’t take her eyes off Pina.

“Keep them close. That’s the most important thing. To be there for each other. For as long as it lasts.” Though she remained motionless, those charcoal-mark eyes welled up, and spilled over, carving dark tear-trails around her snout. “Please be there for him.”

It took Pina a second to remember how to breathe.

He asked, “Do you mean…?”

“Be there for him,” she said again. “Be good to him.”

His neck audibly creaked at he turned to his parents. Tess nodded. Niles huffed, and did the same. A moment passed, and then another, and then Pina got up and flung himself at Riz, arms around his neck, face buried in his shoulder. Riz rocked back in his seat, hands up and splayed like he’d just been caught in a prison spotlight, while several of the diners around them dropped their cutlery. There was a lot of fierce muttering. Niles looked ready to take his fork and stab someone with it.

“Pina, have you lost your goddamn mind?” he said fiercely. “You can’t do this shit in the middle of a public- ow!”

Tess had kicked him very hard under the table. He glared at her, but neither she nor Mischa would look away from their children; when he looked back to them, Riz had returned Pina’s embrace, grinning so wide that it was plain to see even beneath the muzzle’s cage. Niles stared, then set his jaw, and spoke to the nearest table of gawkers.

“Hell of a night, eh? You guys get dinner and a show!” he said, his voice laced with friendliness like cyanide. The diners flinched and guiltily looked away. “Yeah, that’s right, eyes on your plates! Assholes,” he added, quieter.

Pina and Riz pulled from each other – they looked embarrassed, but not very. Pina twirled his wool around one finger, grinning slightly.

“I don’t suppose anyone’s still hungry,” he said.

“You suppose right. I’d rather go home and chew on the lawn than spend another minute here,” said Niles. “Unfortunately, I need to hash out a few last things with Mischa. Alone. Any objections?”

“It’s fine,” said Mischa, barely audible.

“Good. Pina, take your mother and your boyfriend outside. I won’t be long.”

“One thing,” Tess murmured. “How much money did you give that waitress?”

“Five thousand yen,” Niles replied. “Wish it’d been more, honestly. She handled this like a champ.”

She pecked him on the cheek. “That’s my ram.”

Pina helped Tess out of her seat; Mischa shooed Riz away. Ram and she-bear were left alone, and Niles leaned in, his voice gone tense as piano wire.

“I’ll respect my wife’s decision not to report you to the cops,” he said. “If I really try, I can even sympathize a little with how you behaved. That said, you’re on the hook for the damage you caused. I’ll send you the bill. And if you ever touch my family again then I will personally turn you into a fucking rug, understand?”

“Yes,” said Mischa. She was still looking at Riz’s chair. Some of the aggression drained out of Niles. He pushed away, sank back into his chair.

“They’re good together,” he said.

“I can’t remember the last time I made Riz smile like that. I’d given up thinking that I ever could.” She regarded him. “It won’t last. You know that, don’t you?”

“I don’t, that’s the problem. This carni-herbi stuff is all the rage these days. That’s how things are. All I know about is how things used to be.” He scratched his horn, hard enough for the sensation to reverberate in his skull. “But I’ve supported Pina through way more questionable shit than this. It’s too late to stop now.”

“I see.”

“Yep. Gotta be there for him.” He scanned their surroundings for any restaurant staff. “You can go. I’ll hang around and make sure that poor girl doesn’t get fired.”

But Mischa didn’t rise, and after a few seconds Niles looked back at her with irritation.

“Was there something else?” he asked.

She asked, “Do you know anyone who can replace a door?”

The words were simple enough, but Niles had some trouble processing them.

“Who can what a what, now?” he said.

“When Riz had his panic attack after Deep Night, I broke down our bathroom door trying to help him. It’s a wreck. Our landlord doesn’t like to repair damages caused by bears, and I wasn’t sure who to call for something like this, so I thought that…” She trailed off; for an instant, she seemed smaller. “I can pay.”

Riz’s chair was slightly askew. From where Niles sat, he hadn’t gotten a good look at Pina’s face when he’d pounced on the bear – it had been mostly covered up by Riz’s shirt – but the creasing of his cheeks had made it clear how wide he’d been smiling. Almost glowing with joy.

Niles sighed wearily. “I’ll see what I can do.”

*             *             *

They walked to the restaurant entrance, Pina and his mother up front, Riz looming behind them. Pina waved cheerily to the confused greeter on the way out. Beyond the foyer’s glass double doors, they could see that it was already mostly dark, the arc-sodium streetlights’ glow lying thick as paint on the pavement. They had made it through that discussion peacefully, but Pina figured that the place’s management wouldn’t be amused at having a party of five come and go without ordering anything. And his father would have a lot of stress to blow off.

“Somehow I don’t think we’ll be coming back here again,” said Pina.

“It’s a shame,” said Tess. “Those artichokes looked delicious.”

Riz shrugged. “They shouldn’t be too hard to make.”

“Oh, yeah! Mom, I never told you and Dad that he can cook.” Pina pushed open the exit door, let Tess walk by. “Not that I’ve had the chance to try it myself, but with all commentary he’s made on those asinine cooking shows, he can’t be too-”

It happened in an eyeblink. Tess’ foot snagged on the doorsill and she didn’t even have time to cry out before she tripped and fell. But there was a blur and a rush of air, and she didn’t hit the ground; Riz stood with his claws cradled around her, holding her in place. A thin creak emerged from deep in her chest. The body under Riz’s touch was unyielding as steel.

“I’m sorry,” Riz said, but he didn’t dare drop her. “I moved without thinking, I didn’t mean to…Pina, what should I do?”

“It’s fine,” said Pina, but his smile had gone. “Get her outside, against the wall. Come on.”

With infinite care, Riz hoisted Tess up a few inches and carried her like a department-store mannequin, leaned her against Sharpes’ brick façade, and then released her and stepped away, claws hidden behind his back. Pina stayed at her side, feebly attempted to massage some life into her limbs.

“Mom, are you okay? Don’t be mad. He was trying to help.”

“No.” Her jaw worked like she was trying to chew through taffy. “No. I. Know.”

Life returned to her little by little, in halting animatronic spurts. It wasn’t a minute later before she was flexing her arms and fingers again. Then she smiled at Riz, and Pina nearly collapsed with relief.

“You see what a headache this is?” she said. “They can’t take me anywhere.”

“I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. After what my mom did.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” She stepped up to him. “Show me your claws, will you?”

With some hesitation, Riz brought his hands out, presented them for inspection. Tess hoisted one up – her entire hand scarcely covered Riz’s palm – and shook her wrist, demonstrating its looseness.

“Anyone would be a little shaken up after tripping like that,” she said. “If you hadn’t gotten me out of the way then some idiot would have probably called an ambulance. Made a whole scene. I’d rather not have to watch my husband headbutt a paramedic.” She glanced back at Pina. “He’s a good boy, isn’t he?”

“Are you talking about Dad or Riz?” Pina asked.

Tess snorted, then looked up to Riz, stroking his hand. “My son can be difficult. If you ever get fed up with his nonsense, talk to me. I’d be happy to share a few stories that’ll put him in his place.”

Pina groaned and tugged his horns. “Mom…”

“I hardly ever get the chance to embarrass him in public,” she said brightly. “There, go ahead. I’ll let you two say goodbye.”

Riz nodded and staggered off like someone had clocked him between the eyes with a two-by-four. He navigated towards Pina, who’d leaned against one of the streetlights, safely out of Tess’ range of hearing.

“I like your parents,” he said distantly.

“Yeah, they’re a treat. Your mother probably won’t be inviting me over for cake and coffee anytime soon, though. Still…I’d say she cares about you a lot.”

He looked fretfully back at the restaurant. “I need to have a talk with her when we get home. Maybe a lot of them. But that’s for later.”

“Hey, Riz?”

“Yes?”

Pina grinned. “We did it.”

Riz scooped him up one-handed and Pina was raised, laughing, until he was eye-level with the bear. He planted a kiss atop Riz’s head, fiddled with the clasp on his muzzle.

“If I didn’t know your mother was coming out any second, I’d rip this thing off you right now,” he said.

“Not to spoil the moment, but I don’t think we should do anything too crazy just yet,” said Riz. “I don’t want to distract you, with the play so close.”

“Thanks for the reminder. Put me down, I have something for you.”

Riz complied, and Pina fished out two card-stock squares from his back pocket and handed them over. He took them, read them, and read them again, just in case he’d somehow hallucinated the words on his first try. They were opening-night tickets for Adler. He looked at Pina and back to the tickets, and held them up to the light, like he was checking for counterfeits.

“The seats aren’t great but that’s probably for the best,” said Pina. “What with how tall you are, and everything. The second one’s for your mother. If she wants to come with.”

“But I’m not…I thought that I was…”

“Banned? Yeah, the whole club found out about us the other day. This was their response. Bill took everybody to Gon’s office and demanded they give you an exemption for opening night. Threatened to cancel the entire play if he said no, and that would have caused such a shitstorm that Gon didn’t really have any choice. Pretty gutsy, honestly. That stripey meathead is lucky he didn’t get expelled.” He leaned against the lamppost, arms crossed. “And I have a pretty good feeling that everyone’s favorite golden boy Louis is going to make sure the cops stay off you. You’ll get to feel like a normal animal there. Face-basket aside.”

“They’re really okay with this? With us? All of them?”

“Not everyone is exactly pitching bouquets in our direction, but yeah. Went better than I expected.” He flicked back his wool. “Do you want to see them?”

“No. I mean, I do, but not, like, backstage or anything.” Riz clutched the tickets to his chest. “It’d bring up too many bad memories. For all of us. But I’ll be there. In the audience.”

Pina winked. “Then it’s a date.”

Riz’s nostrils flared, and he stiffened up and turned in place. Pina raised an eyebrow and then understood the reason why – Mischa had appeared, standing at the edge of the lamplight. Her dark pelt and her stillness made her appear phantasmal, like her clothes were drifting along without an occupant. Pina stepped away from the post and stood at attention, and after a moment, Mischa bowed, and he bowed back.

She straightened up and looked to Riz. “Can we go home?”

He stepped forward and hugged her. With the two of them so close, Pina could see that he stood almost a head taller than she did, despite his skinny build. She stood motionless for a time but Riz wouldn’t let go and eventually she returned the hug, hesitantly, like she was trying to remember the steps. When they released each other, Mischa’s eyes were wet and shiny as beetle-shells.

“Goodnight, Pina,” said Riz.

Pina waved. “I’ll be seeing you.”

The two bears left, Riz with one arm around his mother. Pina watched them pass between those intervening patches of light and dark until their bodies became indistinct, drunk away by the deepening night. Then they were gone, and he turned and went in the other direction, to where his own family awaited him.

*             *             *

Opening night.

Ticket sales had surpassed expectations, and expectations had been very high. It might have been an amateur production, but Cherryton still commanded an impressive pedigree, and Louis’ tenure in the Drama Club had lent it quite a bit of fame even outside the school itself. Factor in the school’s re-integration, and the student body’s eagerness to see this daring new take on Adler either succeed or fail spectacularly, and every seat for all three nights had sold out in less than a week. There’d even been a small but healthy scalper’s market, as enterprising students traded and bartered tickets to each other at usurious prices.

Riz had once sagely told Pina that the lead-up to opening night was a rough experience no matter what, and the pressure of these last two weeks in particular had crushed the Drama Club into diamond. There were few jokes and fewer complaints, with no one wanting to be the weak link that might cause the whole production to collapse. Bill himself had been pushed into some gentle lagoon where nothing could hurt or reach him; he surveyed the last rehearsals, delivered his criticisms in a calm and measured voice and warmly thanked them at the end of each day. No one stood too close to him in case he suddenly exploded. Only Kai kept up his usual histrionics, and that was for the club’s benefit more than anything else – if Kai the mongoose was a shouty, sweary bundle of nerves, then the world still made sense.

Now the first scene was imminent, and backstage swarmed like a kicked anthill. Lamar was up in the lighting rig, his beak clacking like a nutcracker; the Sound Team was at the board, Rylan finally with the rest of the team as she triple-checked her mixes’ splicing and labeling. Moro and Mina went over the backdrops. Aoba struggled with part of his costume, a pair of reflective contact lenses that would give his eyes an eerie glow in his scene’s lighting. Silvie continued to practice her swordfighting, and narrowly avoided stabbing out Kai’s eyeball as he scurried past.

“Sorry, Kai!”

“What? Oh, the sword. It’s fine.” He moved on. “Mina, did you double-check the rigging on that backcloth?”

“It’s all set, Kai!”

He passed Kibi, who straightened the cloak on Tao’s costume. The anteater had been fussing over it for several minutes now.

“I keep thinking this thing’s too billowy,” said Kibi.

“It’s not. You designed it, Keebs, come on.”

“I know, I know. It’s the jitters, that’s all.” He smoothed out Tao’s tunic. “You’re good to go.”

Tao offered his cheek. “Kiss for luck?”

“You don’t need the luck, but I’ll give you the kiss.” And he did.

Fudge, who was mostly trying to stay out of everyone’s way at this point, felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see the foreboding becloaked figure of Aoba above him. The eagle’s costume was plain – one step above a burlap sack, really – but the way its hood had been designed cut a striking figure. His beak jutted out of that darkness like a blade.

“Help me with these lenses?” he asked.

“Sure thing. Hunker down for me.” Fudge took the contacts from Aoba, who knelt down and pulled back the hood. “Steadiest hands in the club, right here. Just don’t move…one, two. Feel alright?”

Aoba blinked until they settled in, then nodded and rose, putting the hood back up. The least glimmer of light now put a jaundiced yellow cast over his eyes, sickly circles shining in the gloom.

“How’s it look?” he asked.

“Spooky as hell. Knock ‘em dead out there.”

Their star actress, meanwhile, was chatting with Bill, her mask and hat in hand, her scythe leaned against the wall. Juno had been unflappable ever since the first dress rehearsal – and they knew that for a fact, because her tail didn’t lie. Compared to Louis’ neurotic, merciless perfectionism, her easygoing talent had probably kept more than a few of her clubmates from suffering cardiac distress. Kai made a beeline for them both.

“Here he comes,” said Bill. “Lamar doing okay by himself?”

“He’s fine, I just climbed down for a second to find you. Place is jam-packed.”

“Is Louis there?” Juno asked.

“Hard to miss, the dick went right for the best seats in the house. Legosi’s with him. And that rabbit he’s so gaga about.” Kai paused diplomatically. “No pressure, though.”

“Please. This just means I can blow away all three of them at once.”

“Phrasing.”

“Did you see Riz?” Bill asked.

“He’d be in the cheap seats, it’s hard to get a look. Definitely some big mammals out in the corner, though. Speaking of which, can you drag Pina out here already? We’ve got everyone accounted for except him.”

“He’s still in the dressing room,” said Juno. “Want me to handle it?”

Bill shook his head. “I’ll go. Kai, finish whatever you think needs doing and get back on the lights, okay?”

“Oh yeah, sure, thanks for reminding me, not like I’ve been crawling around that fuckin’ rig for years now.” He rolled his eyes as Bill set off, then looked back to Juno. “You good?”

“I’d better be. This is long overdue.”

Juno carefully affixed Adler’s skull face mask, put on the hat. She faced Kai and dramatically swished her cloak, spoke in a voice like the wind blowing over a freshly-dug grave.

“Death is impartial. In this cruel world, only the reaper can grant true unity.” Her voice brightened up again. “What’d you think?”

“I think it’s for the best I got kicked off the actors’ team,” Kai said, hoping she couldn’t see his fur standing on end. “It’d really suck to have you as competition.”

In the corridors behind the stage, Bill paced, tail twitching. Pina had given them all the good news after the meeting between his and Riz’s families, and had worked his tail off in all the rehearsals thereafter, but as Kai had been fond of saying, Adler often seemed cursed, and felines were inherently superstitious. Bill had spent the last few days half-expecting a sandbag to drop on someone’s head or something. Pina’s tardiness wasn’t helping his nerves.

He went to the closed dressing-room door, knocked twice, and opened it without waiting for a response.

No scenes of carnage awaited him on the other side. Pina stood in front of the mirror, fully dressed in Wander’s costume – something between a sailor suit and a funeral shroud – and carefully adjusting the wool around his face. He’d worked out a complex system of clips and barrettes to keep his locks flowing without letting them obscure his eyes, and right now appeared focused on making them as inconspicuous as possible.

“We’re on in ten,” said Bill. “You almost done?”

“Just about.” Pina glanced at him. “Why aren’t you in costume yet?”

“I’m not on until Act Two, I can change during the intermission. Everyone else is ready, though.”

“I should hope so.” He worked another clip in place. “This is such a pain in my ass. Don’t you dare offer to help, either.”

“Wasn’t about to,” said Bill. “But I have to ask. Did you start growing it out because Riz likes it that way?”

“Obviously. I think I’ve hit my limit in terms of maintenance, though.” He gave his head a few shakes, seeing if any strands came loose.

“Kai couldn’t tell if he was out there, but, you know, odds favor it.”

“He’s out there. Texted me an hour ago. So I’d better not make a fool of myself onstage. No objections with those rewritten lines?”

“Nope. They looked good to me. Better than what I had, even. Nice little downbeat.”

“Glad to hear it.” He gave his head one final pat. “You can go. I’ll be right behind you.”

“You’d better,” Bill said flatly, and turned to leave.

“Bill.”

He turned back. Pina was leaning against the vanity, regarding him out the corner of his eye. His wool and his costume hung around him like mist.

“Regardless of how things go tonight, this needs to be said.” His voice was solemn. “Thank you. For everything.”

Bill awaited a quip. None came. His chest felt oddly tight.

“No problem,” he replied. “Five minutes, yeah?”

Bill left. Pina was alone.

He watched his face in the mirror until it became a stranger’s. Every inch of him had to be under control. Keep the ears in place. Make sure his horns weren’t too shiny or dull. Let his wool convey vulnerability without looking too scraggly or neat. He inhaled, exhaled, and then stepped away from the vanity and went outside. His footsteps echoed on the linoleum.

Backstage, Kai had absconded for the lighting rig, Bill putting everyone in their places. Juno awaited by the doorway, fully costumed, her scythe-blade gleaming. She held up her free hand as Pina approached.

“Ready to die?” she asked.

He high-fived her. “Just watch me.”

The stage for this opening scene would be mostly bare, save for a few generic foliage backdrops. Adler had never had very elaborate set dressing, and it would have been out of the budget anyway – most of the work had traditionally been done in the lighting, which was where Legosi’s genius had come in. For this part, he’d set up ice-white filters to convey fogginess, sterility, and Kai and Lamar would follow the instructions he’d left behind. Pina would blend into that light, only the blue of his eyes visible, until it dimmed, adjusted, let him become known to the audience.

He took his place and thought of Meteor Square. That blank expanse of glass-studded stone. The beasts who’d watched him and Riz had applauded everything they’d heard, because they hadn’t believed it had been real – merely adjacent to reality, and therefore acceptable. On the stage, in the performance, everything seemed possible.

The curtain rose.

Chapter Text

These were the waste lands between life and death – a twisting, mongrel landscape of black forests, barren peaks, and endless, mist-choked tundra. He traversed this dismal ground with a slow, dragging step, the pace of one who had walked for a very long time and fully expected to go for a longer time yet. With his white garment and the drifting locks of his wool he already appeared near-distinguishable from the land itself, save for the blue shot through his garment, the blue shining in his eyes, and the horns which rested atop his head like a tarnished crown. These colors marked his progress, rendered him solid.

Then, new footsteps, within the curling mists. Enter an apparition of red, as though the very air had begun to bleed. A voice spoke, cold and flat as freshly tamped grave-dirt:

“Another wandering soul, lost in this ashen land. So fleeting. So fragile.”

The redness coalesced into a grim figure, a she-wolf under whose broad-brimmed hat jutted a muzzle of polished bone. She flung back her cloak, brandished the wicked scythe she carried. He stopped and looked at that gleaming blade.

“My name is Adler,” she intoned, “and I have come to reap your soul. If you have any last words, then offer them to this scythe.”

He bowed his head low. He seemed barely there. It was easy to imagine some weak plea of mercy emerging from that slender throat, one that would surely fall upon deaf ears. But then he spoke, and his voice rang clear.

“If I begged for my life, would that satisfy you?” he asked. “Even if my life has been meaningless, my life is mine alone. And my fear of dying is also mine alone.”

He took a step forward. While Adler remained stony, the very mists flinched away from him, so that he became less phantasmal as he approached.

“I won’t give you a testament. I’ll give you a heartfelt declaration.” His words clanged like morning bells. “You can take my life! But I won’t cower away from you!”

Adler’s grip tightened on her scythe.

“Who is this beast that stands unafraid of the Reaper?” she asked. “Tell me your name.”

“My name escapes me, as does much else,” he replied. “I recall not what led me to this place, nor who I was before it. Perhaps my fear was lost as well.”

“You perished,” said Adler. “Yet your shade lingers. There have been innumerable luckless creatures who have wandered these roads before you, and not one of them failed to tremble before my scythe.”

“I shall not tremble. Do what you must.”

Adler went still. Then, in one smooth motion, she took up her scythe and swung. The silver fang of its blade parted the air with a silken hiss – and stopped just short of his neck, close enough to part the wool. He stood undaunted, staring into empty sockets of Adler’s ossified visage.

“Why do you hesitate?” he asked.

“You truly remember nothing?”

“I have nothing, and nothing left to say.” He ran his fingernail along the blade, producing a long, bright note. “Cease your posturing and claim my soul, or begone.”

A hushed moment passed. Then the scythe withdrew.

“Your soul shall be claimed,” said Adler. “But this courage has a source, still undiscerned. Until I discover it, you cannot be rightly killed.”

“I fail to see your design.” Was that a shudder of relief? “A death is a death, is it not?”

“Death is impartial. In this cruel world, only the reaper can grant true unity.” The scythe’s handle thumped the ground. “Nameless, wandering soul. Little Wander. In honor of your bravery, I will reclaim your identity, and grant you a deserving death.” Adler offered her hand. “Make no mistake. I shall be the one to kill you.”

Wander, newly-christened, showed hesitation, his first moment of true vulnerability. To be menaced by Death was expected; to be shown compassion by it was unknown, and therefore more frightening. But he steeled himself, and took her hand – and in the distance came a monstrous rumbling. Unfathomably far, in the roiling darkness at the edge of all things, the Powers-that-Be had stirred.

*             *             *

When the show ended, the audience’s applause was immediate and deafening – most of the animals who hadn’t bolted up and started clapping their palms raw were covering their ears instead. The sound rose and fell like waves crashing on the shore, hitting a new crescendo when everyone came out to take their bows. There were cheers, whistles, thoughtful nods from several older animals who’d quietly scribbled on notepads throughout the production. Pina’s parents were in the center rows; Tess didn't clap, not because the noise had paralyzed her, but because she was sobbing into her husband’s arm, while Niles’ stern, firm-jawed mien suggested that he was making a mighty effort not to do the same.

Haru wasn’t much for the theatre but had still attended a few plays before this one, thanks to her tryst with Louis, and was used to the sort of difficulties smaller animals had to put up with – booster seats, the possibility of trampling. She took it in stride, and when the actors returned onstage she jammed both thumbs in her mouth and unleashed a freight-train whistle that went through several adjacent animals’ heads like an icepick. But the real trouble started after the audience’s din quieted down a bit, because that was when the two dorks sitting on either side of her began to give critique.

“They used my lighting directions,” said Legosi.

“For good reason. They were rather effective,” Louis mused. “Kai kept a steady hand at the tiller up there. You notice how your slow iris was re-contextualized for the ending?”

“Yeah, I think it worked. Good color balance on Pina, too. They really had to be careful not to make his outline white-on-white. And then there was Tao’s second appearance…”

“That precious sound engineer of Bill’s earned her keep for that scene alone. Thank heavens the trapdoor decided to cooperate, the damn thing was always so sticky.” He rubbed his chin. “Zoe finally learned his steps, too. Only took him three years. That Arctic fox already has the advantage of him.”

Haru said, “This is what I deserve, isn’t it? I dated a couple of theatre geeks and let them drag me here. I have no one to blame but myself.”

“Haru, what did you think?” Legosi asked, blissfully oblivious to her anguish.

“Well, I didn’t recognize anyone except Juno, but she acted her butt off. Literally. Her tail matched all the emotions she was showing onstage.”

“Noticed that, did you?” Louis asked.

“It’d be pretty pathetic if I didn’t,” she answered, pointing to Legosi.

“Point taken. Yes, canine actors were always migraine-inducing when I was the lead. Most of them couldn’t keep their body language under control at all, let alone use it to their advantage.”

“I hate to say it, Louis, but I think Bill was right about a carnivore Adler being better for the fight scenes,” said Legosi. “Her moves were a lot like his, actually. But less…angry.”

“He had too much to prove. Juno knows how good she is, so she was able to focus on spectacle.” Louis crossed his arms and huffed. “Meanwhile, Bill picked a role that wouldn’t even let him show his face to the audience. Wonder if he’s still embarrassed by that fiasco two years ago.”

“The one where he clawed up Legosi’s back, you mean?” Haru asked.

“The very same. Still, the part he played was adequate. Allowed him to leverage this apparent animosity between himself and Pina, as well. Honestly, he might have been too conscientious about assigning roles. They’re rather reliant on the club’s inter-personal dynamics. It’s possible this version of Adler couldn’t be replicated with a different cast.”

“Maybe he wanted it that way.” Legosi squinted, looking down into the auditorium’s pit. “Some animals are going backstage. I think I see Dom with them.”

“Aha. Those must be the alumni. I’d best go deliver my verdict before they get too comfortable with themselves.” Louis smoothed out his lapels. “Join me, Legosi? Haru?”

Legosi shook his head. “I’m planning to see them on the last day. With Grandpa. Me and Haru are taking the night to ourselves.”

“There’s this botanical garden that’s doing a moonlight display,” said Haru. “Legosi got us tickets, like, a month ago.”

Legosi grinned eagerly. “They have a pollinating insects exhibit!”

“Every day’s a thrill with you two,” said Louis, with airy sarcasm. “As for future appointments – Haru, my fiancée keeps hassling me and Juno to join her for dinner somewhere public and expensive. If you could get your boyfriend looking halfway presentable, I’d have no choice but to invite you along. Give the upper crust something to really gawk at.”

“I’m not big on ritzy places like those, but free food’s always good,” said Haru. “Legosi, what about you?”

“It’d be nice to get everyone together,” said Legosi, tail wagging.

“Then I’ll pencil it in. Both of you come here.” Louis leaned forward, hugging each of them in turn. “Enjoy your evening. I will be in touch as soon…damn it, Legosi, watch the antlers, you’ll poke your eye out…as soon as I’m able.”

He waved goodbye and stepped out into the crowd, effortlessly parting them despite going in the opposite direction. Legosi and Haru watched him walk to the stage. It was always a treat to see how Louis made other animals get out of his way – his sheer Louis-ness was like an invisible force field.

“You sure you don’t want to go say hi to everybody?” said Haru. “We have time.”

“It’s okay. Tonight is just for us. Besides, you saw that look on Louis’ face. If we went backstage now, then it might get a little awkward.”

“What, he’s gonna chew them out?”

“Not exactly. I’ll tell you when we get outside.” Legosi gazed up to the seats in the far corner, already mostly empty. One animal in particular wasn’t there. Haru tugged his sleeve.

“Riz already left, huh?” she asked quietly. “Did you want to catch up to him?”

He shook his head. “I know where’s gone. And I bet that Pina does, too. Shouldn’t get between them now.”

“Then it sounds like there isn’t anything holding us back.” She leaned up against Legosi, clutching his shirt. “Let us away from here, my stalwart knight.”

“Knight? What?”

“That was acting. I was trying to act.”

“Oh,” said Legosi. “Okay.”

*             *             *

Wander huddled before the campfire, its light staining his wool bloody. The trees around him cast sinister silhouettes, their branches reaching for him greedily. These woods were large enough to swallow nations, and few could navigate their twisted trails; at first, he and Adler had encountered several lesser spirits who had jeered at them for even making the attempt. Friendliness was in short supply, in this realm. And that was before they had encountered their true aggressors – pursuers who had been rebuffed by Adler’s blade, but in so doing had left entire copses of trees rimed in ice, or reduced to char, or stripped bare by howling winds.

Adler stood vigil at firelight’s edge, scythe lost, her crimson finery stained with ash and frost. She needed no warmth. This fire was strictly for Wander’s benefit. He raised his head, horns gleaming molten gold.

“Do further enemies await us?” he asked.

“Or the very same. The Elementals exist by the whims of the Powers-that-Be, overseers of fate, weavers of every law. Their servants may be recalled as many times as needed.”

“Are you not one of those servants?”

“Yes. But I have become derelict.” The merest thread of exhaustion wormed into Adler’s voice. “My oath to you has offended them. They are uncompromising. Unrelenting.”

“And impatient, it would seem. You swore to kill me regardless. What’s a bit longer?”

“Vagrant souls like yourself cannot linger in this purgatory. Your continued presence is a stain upon the Powers’ design. Placing you under my protection is utmost blasphemy, to say nothing of the request I intend to make to the Lamplighter.”

In the furthest reaches of this land betwixt, the Lamplighter dwelled, the entity that kept an accounting of every soul. In some ways he was above even Adler – the Reaper was the executor of life and death, but if the Lamplighter so wished, he could rekindle one of those snuffed wicks, and return its bearer to the world of the living. Adler’s intent was to bring Wander to the Lamplighter’s domain and petition him to light that flame, thrust Wander back into whatever life he’d abandoned. But since the beginning of time, no such request had been granted. Even the possibility of uttering it aloud had compelled the Powers-that-Be to marshal the destructive forces of nature itself, to punish Adler for her transgression.

“If this errand is successful,” asked Wander, “what will become of you then?”

“I expect to be punished most harshly. Or simply replaced. A new Reaper will come, bereft of this unacceptable deviance.”

“Then there is no purpose to your oath,” Wander said harshly. “I have little interest in going on, if it means that my life will end at another Reaper’s hand.”

“I say again, I shall be the one to kill you. To this end, I vow to persist for as long as I must. Against the machinations of fate itself.”

The fire crackled. Its light dimmed, burning to embers. Wander rose, sparks drifting about him like stray wisps.

“Take my soul,” he said. “Here and now. Do your duty and avert the punishment your creators have in store. This hollow existence should not imperil one such as yours.”

Adler’s statuesque pose faltered. She reached for her blade and hesitated. In that moment, she appeared almost mortal.

“I cannot,” she said.

“You can.” He stepped around the fire, walked toward her. “And you must.”

“Come no closer!”

Wander froze, wide-eyed. Adler had raised her voice in his defense during the Elementals’ assault, but these words splintered with desperation. She turned away, clawed at her skull, like she was trying to carve new expressions into its frozen shape.

“I see something in you,” she said. “Brilliant and blinding, and enduring even now. I cannot bring myself to extinguish it. Not until I am able to witness it in full.” She made a disgusted sound. “What has become of me? Since time immemorial I have claimed souls like yourself, without a tinker’s curse given as to who they were and what they may have become. Such is my purpose. The Reaper views all with equality, and yet I treat you as extraordinary. I have strayed from my path.”

“Or perhaps you’ve finally found it,” said Wander.

She looked at him in surprise. Behind him, the campfire continued to ebb.

“I cared little when your scythe caressed my neck. I thought this quest a mere diversion on the way to the inevitable. But when you took my hand, I wished to live. Because you saw something in this life that was worth preserving. Who would have known that Death could be so gallant?” He approached again, cautiously. “There is one thing I recall from the world outside this one. We mortals live in fear of you. Better, I think, to set fear aside, and live a life worthy of your blade.”

Wander reached for her bony muzzle as though it carried a terrible heat within, and Adler stood, paralyzed, ready to accept his touch. But then the campfire flared again, though its fuel was near-expended. Its crackle became a din. The shadows it cast grew jagged and crazed.

“The flame,” Adler whispered.

Wander paused. “What is it?”

She pushed him aside and drew her sword. “Beware the flame!”

The fire erupted in a bloodred gout and from it emerged a smoldering claw that scored the earth deep as it wrested its owner from those infernal depths, pelt the color of oilsmoke, tongues of flame emerging from bared fangs. Igni the Flame Elemental rose from those stoked embers, and around them, the trees had already begun to burn.

*             *             *

Cast and crew huddled backstage, taking refuge from the storm of applause. Several were more laid-back about it – Juno had removed her mask and started fanning herself with the brim of her hat, while Tao had swept up a jubilant Kibi in his arms – but most of them stood around like they’d been poleaxed. The sound crew seemed especially stunned; Rylan’s ears swiveled madly, sampling the noise.

“I can’t believe they’re still clapping,” said Vim.

“It’s really loud,” said Tierra. “Isn’t it really loud?”

“It is,” said Rylan. The corners of her mouth kept twitching upward.

Kai looked up from pep-talking Lamar. “You guys don’t know the half of it. Me and Lamar were keeping an eye on the audience. There’s always a few schmucks who mess around with their phones or whatever when the play’s going on, but not so much this time. Most of ‘em barely blinked during the last few scenes.”

“Some animals looked like they were taking notes, though,” Lamar added. “I don’t think they were from Cherryton.”

Aoba said, “They were reporters. Or maybe talent scouts. Bill, I know it’s still the first night, but you might have done something really special here.”

“Wasn’t just me,” he muttered, almost reflexively. Then he perked up a little, became aware of his surroundings. “Where’d Pina go?”

“He ran off as soon as we finished taking our bows,” said Mina. “Pretty sure he’s chasing after you-know-who.”

Bill groaned. “Some things never change.”

He realized that everyone was looking at him now. The president was expected to address everybody at the end of the production – Louis always delivered something haughty and full of backhanded compliments, so that by the end you couldn’t be sure whether you wanted to cheer or strangle him – but that was one little detail that Bill had forgotten to schedule. He was no good at improv. His tail wrapped around his leg like it was trying to anchor him in place.

Then, his salvation came, in a high trilling voice from stage right:

“That. Was. Amazing!”

A vision in azure barged in, all clasped wings and twisting neck – Dom the peafowl, with Sheila, Mokichi, and Sanu trailing behind. Els and Vim all but squealed in delight at the former two, and several of the other club’s veterans went to greet Sanu; the pelican might not have had much authority as the club’s former president, but he’d been a much-needed grounding element amidst all of Louis’ pomp and circumstance. Bill was forgotten and backed off in relief, intent on using this moment of grace to come up with a few platitudes.

Kai was left to fend for himself. Dom knelt down so that he and the mongoose were eye-to-eye. It was difficult to beam with a beak, but he managed it with aplomb.

“I heard that you took over as stage manager,” he said. “You handled all that responsibility on top of the lights? That’s incredible!”

“Uh, yeah, well, it’s not like I was alone. That’s Lamar. He’s the junior lighting tech.” He gestured to the barn owl, who waved nervously. “And we were mostly following Legosi’s lead anyway. But it went fine for the most part. Couple of speedbumps.”

“Oh, there always are. It’s how you handle them that matters. I had a feeling you’d be good at this, ever since you-”

“Yeah, yeah, ever since you saw my sewing,” he blurted out, and Dom blinked, surprised. “I kept flashing back to that shit whenever I needed a confidence boost. So, y’know, thanks for the compliments. It helped, after that dickhead Louis kicked me back- hrk!”

Dom had wrapped his wings around Kai and hugged him to his chest. Lamar cringed, anticipating bloodshed, but Kai just grumbled a bit, his small hand patting Dom on the back.

While Sheila caught up with Els (and gushed over a nearly-catatonic Silvie, even going so far as to imitate her swordfighting), Mokichi approached the sound team. He was the same blandly congenial badger he’d ever been, but still smiled warmly at Vim.

“I left you in a tough spot,” he said. “Glad you handled it so well.”

“Pfft, thank these two. I’d have gotten pancaked if Tierra wasn’t around to lug all that crap for me. And pretty much everything that didn’t come from the band was courtesy of Rylan here.”

“Ah, yes. Bill told me about you. You have a lot of talent.” He bent close to Rylan, lowering his voice. “Good work on that monologue. But you should be a little more careful about where you sample your effects from, okay?”

Rylan’s eyes widened; the noise from the terrorist bombings had been in the mix, sure enough, but she’d taken special care to conceal it. “You could tell?”

“I wasn’t sure until I saw your reaction just now. You’ll be fine. Just keep it in mind for any future projects. Don’t want to cause unnecessary controversy.”

“I think controversy’s more necessary now than ever,” she said quietly.

Mokichi’s smile widened, enough for his sharp little teeth to shine. “Well. That’s hard to dispute.”

Sanu had sought out Bill, despite the tiger’s best efforts to remain inconspicuous. It took the pelican all of three seconds to find him, and another second to see right through him.

“Trying to work out how to best congratulate everybody?” he asked, glasses twinkling.

Bill held up his hands. “You got me. Any tips? You usually had to paper things over whenever Louis was done raking us over the coals.”

“Yes, he never was much for compliments. But don’t overthink it. Keep it simple. You’ve already proven yourself and then some.” He peered at Bill over his lenses. “Honestly, while I agreed with Louis about choosing you as president, I never would’ve expected you to be so bold. This might have been an amateur show, but those rewrites should make quite a splash.”

“Don’t get the wrong idea, I’m not some screenwriting prodigy or anything. Whole bunch of others chipped in. Story of the whole play, really. It would’ve gone to shit weeks ago if we…if any us had tried to do this…alone…”

Bill trailed off, pupils dilating. The rest of the club had gone silent as well. Sanu tilted his head in puzzlement, turned around, and saw the reason why. Louis had entered backstage from the opposite direction Dom and the others had, and was surveying the lot of them like a general across a blasted battlefield. Bill was clearly struggling to come up with some bon mot as a greeting, but the words wouldn’t get past his teeth. As far as the club was concerned, whatever Louis would say about their performance would carry more weight than every moment of that applause.

Louis scanned the actors, and settled on Juno, who didn’t appear terribly intimidated by his appearance. She walked forward, tail already wagging.

“Louis! Did you like it?” she asked, and Louis advanced on her. “How did I-”

Anyone with experience in an herbivore-carnivore relationship (and this was a number that increased by the day) came to understand that it required due caution from both sides. Rushing too quickly into unexpected gestures of affection could get someone hurt. It was likely for that reason that Louis rested his hands upon Juno’s shoulders for a moment, but he didn’t say anything, because the two of them were forthright creatures, and words in this situation would have been wasted. They wrapped their arms around each other and locked muzzles in front of the agog Drama Club. Their kiss went on. And on. There were smacking sounds and roaming hands. The club’s collective expressions went from shocked, to impressed, to faintly disturbed. Fudge counted off the seconds under his breath. Silvie had to look away, blushing right through her pelt. Kibi and Tao both studied them close, apparently for reference purposes.

They finally broke away from each other, panting and starry-eyed. If Juno’s tail went any faster then she’d be in danger of achieving liftoff.

“Outstanding,” Louis said. He looked to the rest of the club. “I don’t believe that stage has ever seen a finer production. I’m available for individual critique if anyone desires it, but as a whole…be proud, all of you. Especially you, Bill.” He grinned. “You beat me, in the end.”

Bill stared and said nothing.

“Now then,” Louis said briskly. “If no one objects, I think I’ll spirit away your lead actress.”

“Not so fast,” said Juno, and Louis yelped as she swept him off his feet. “I have to get out of this stuffy costume first. Accompany me to the changing room?”

Louis lightly scratched beneath her chin. “That’ll do for a start.”

She carried him off, and their giggles could be heard all the way into the halls. There was a long period of meditation after that. Zoe tried several times to speak, managed only a handful of nonsense syllables, and gave up.

“Did anyone get that on video?” Sheila asked, looking around. “No? We all just stood around like a bunch of idiots? Because no one is ever going to believe what we just saw.”

Bill stared and said nothing.

“I know he’s mellowed out and everything, but Louis still takes theatre really seriously,” said Els, walking over to the tiger. “I’m pretty sure that he wasn’t just flattering you, Bill.” She smiled up at him, and then the smile faded. “Bill?”

He blinked occasionally, and his tail was going through some odd contortions, but other than that, Bill was stiff as wood. There was a glazed, glassy look in his eyes. Dom slowly passed a wing across his face, to no reaction.

“Oh dear,” he said.

“God dammit, Louis broke his brain,” said Kai. “Louis, you asshole, get back here! You broke Bill’s brain!”

Louis was well out of earshot, but the rest of the club answered instead. They all rushed forward to embrace Bill, their flurry of congratulations blending into a wall of sound not much different from the audience’s applause, and it wasn’t long before Bill shook off his stupor. He still didn’t have anything to say, but he didn’t need to; instead he embraced them back, trying to get as many of his clubmates into his arms as possible, laughing through his tears.

*             *             *

Of all the Elementals, Igni could have been said to hold the closest affinity to mortals – flame was brief-lived, and consumed all around it in order to prolong itself. Whether his inherent viciousness sprang from his association with fire itself, or with mortal lives, none were able to speculate. But his loyalty to the Powers-that-Be was unquestioned, matched only by his loathing of any who strayed from their designs. When the Elementals had first attacked Wander and Adler, Igni had been the most ferocious, and he had dragged himself back from the abyss with all possible haste. Adler was wounded and weak. Her defense against him quickly faltered. As the woods around them blazed, she at last thrust her cloak into Wander’s arms and commanded him to flee, and then focused all her remaining might on striking Igni down.

Now this patch of forest was a monochrome waste, the trees reduced to colorless pillars of char that thrust from the earth like broken teeth. Flakes of ash drifted like snow through the smoky air. Adler's fine hat was lost, clothes tattered, the bone of her face burnt black in places. And Igni himself lay sprawled against one of those ruined trees, still grinning, his torn body oozing soot. More soot spilled from his mouth as he spoke, every word laced with contempt:

“It was a fine match. And impressively cruel, to send away that lost soul. He shall wander this land forever without a guide.”

Adler clutched her side, barely standing, but still resolute. “My cloak yet contains a trace of my power. It shall set him on the path out of these cursed woods. After that, whether he finds his destination is up to him.”

“No. It was always a doomed endeavor. Thus say the Powers-that-Be.”

“Damn the Powers and damn you too,” Adler spat.

Igni’s grin widened. “Damnation awaits one of us, to be certain. The Powers have made their will known to me. I shall be rekindled, but the two of you? The lost soul will never find rest, and you will be consigned to the darkness beyond all things, bleak and unending. A fitting punishment, for those who sought to defy the natural order.”

Adler faltered, dropped to her knee. Igni laughed at her sorry state, though his own body now seemed barely substantial, ready to crumble at any moment.

“You overstepped yourself, Adler. We spirits exist only at the Powers’ behest. Born from a wish. Beneath their majesty, we are insignificant. And mortals are even moreso. Tinder one and all. They produce the briefest light, and then are gone, leaving no trace. In your final moments, do you not think it foolish to have sacrificed so much for something so trifling?”

Her breath became ragged. Choked on this drifting smoke. In whatever passed for Adler’s heart, she knew that Igni spoke truly about what the Powers-that-Be had planned for her – no death, no light, no rest. She gazed back through the ashen woods, the way that Wander had run, as if she would see him there, a beacon guiding her away from this fate.

“I was blind,” she said.

“Too late for regrets, Adler.”

“Cease your prattling, you wretched speck.” A hint of her old authority reappeared, enough to shock Igni into silence. “Death is impartial. But I mistook impartiality for cruelty. Harvested souls with barely a glance at what light they held within. It was a false, cold equality. Only he shone bright enough to pierce this veil. And now I see that light must have been present in them all. Extraordinary. Equally extraordinary.” She slumped further, barely holding on. “I have no regrets. May that dazzling soul’s wish be granted. And for whomever takes up the scythe, may they learn to love their quarry, as I was never able.”

Igni’s malicious cheer had left him. He regarded Adler with something like pity. His body, now expended, began to flake away, into detritus indistinguishable from the ash that caked the ground.

“Misbegotten Reaper,” he said. “What use would Death have for love?”

The last of him collapsed, and was gone. Adler let out one final sigh and then fell over and lay still, and the forest’s charred precipitation fell upon her like a funeral shroud, until she was consumed by a far deeper blackness.

*             *             *

Legosi and Haru walked down the city streets, hand in too-small hand. They were still getting used to this, the luxury of time – it had taken a mountain of frustration and several near-death experiences, but Legosi had finally started to become comfortable in Haru’s presence, and Haru was able to spend enough time with him so that she wasn’t always caught off-guard by his thinking and his habits. As she’d said to Louis, she had become a close study for his tail in particular. Legosi’s morose but fiercely romantic personality usually meant that, around her, it was either hanging limp or going like a helicopter propeller, with little in-between. But tonight it wagged in wide, lazy arcs, fanning the side of her face. He still appeared lost in thought, but at least for now, he was content.

“I hope you didn’t think I was griping too much back there,” she said. “It really was a good show. I just don’t have an eye for that stuff like you and Louis do.”

“It’s alright,” said Legosi.

“You ever think of going to something more professional? Maybe a musical? I know tickets can be pricey, but I wouldn’t mind splitting the bill.”

That got his attention. “You’d like to spend more time together?”

“Well, duh. I look away for two seconds and you have this whole social calendar filled out! I want to be a part of that too, Legosi.”

And she had, little by little – with his grandfather especially, whom she’d first met in Legosi’s hospital room, and visited more formally about a month later. It was immediately apparent that Gosha was Legosi’s blood, despite the obvious physical differences; a complete sweetheart, but also an anxious wreck who’d filled his apartment with a fine mist of antiseptic before they’d even stepped inside. Haru had resigned herself to breaking the old lizard out of his shell just like she’d tried to do with his grandson, but to her delight, Legosi was taking the initiative on that.

“I hope your grandpa’s okay with meeting all your friends,” she said.

“Me too. Being alone is a hard habit to break.”

“Well, just give me a holler if you need some help smacking sense into him.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said seriously, and looked down at her. “You’re happy, aren’t you?”

“I’m happy because you’re happy, you doofus.” She gave him a playful shove and almost fell flat on her behind; it was like trying to push over a small tree. “You think I haven’t seen that tail going all night? Now let’s hustle. I’d like to beat the crowd to this place.”

She made it another several steps before realizing that Legosi no longer accompanied her. He’d stopped in place, in that slightly bent, furtive pose that made him look like a weathered tree branch. They were in front of a bus terminal and all manner of animals came and went around them like a river flowing around a big rock; pedestrians on the walkways above moved on heedlessly, and several transit police nearby gave them an odd glance.

“Haru,” he said. “There’s something I wanted to tell you.”

“Oh boy. I recognize that look.” Her cheerfulness had been dampened somewhat just from the sight of it. “What’s the bombshell, Legosi?”

“I turned nineteen last month.”

“Yes, I know. I was there. We had udon.”

“I promised myself I’d ask you something.” The gentle rumble of his voice was easily heard over the crowd. “I’ve been working up to it for a while. Would you like us to move in together?”

The question hit her like a right hook. Legosi, in his wisdom, took her stunned silence to mean that she was awaiting further detail.

“I’ve done some research on places that would be good for us,” he went on. “Not too far from your college, or your family, or my job. I don’t need a lot of space, and you’re, well,” he sheepishly placed his palm at approximately waist-height, “so there’s options. I have money saved up. More than you think I do, probably. We could make it work. But it’s okay if you don’t want to, just yet. You still have school and everything, and there’s things I need to take care of, too. I think I should probably finish high school soon. Find a better job. The udon shop is nice, but I’d like to work with insects someday. The little things that no one else notices.” He anxiously kneaded his hands together – a habit, she now dimly realized, that he’d picked up from his grandfather. “To tell the truth, I’m still not totally sure what I want to do. But that’s okay. Because even if I don’t know what I want to do, I finally know what I want to be.” Legosi smiled. “More than anything, I want to be yours.”

The flow of anonymous beasts around them continued. His tail was still going in those slow arcs. After considerable effort, Haru got her jaw working again.

“Legosi,” she said. “Did you just propose to me?”

A flicker of confusion passed across his face. Then his smile drained. His eyes widened. His tail stopped wagging and dangled between his legs like an overcooked noodle.

Legosi said, “Um.”

Somewhere in the distance, a truck honked its horn.

“It did. Sound that way. Didn’t it?” he asked, voice cracking a bit. “Somehow I never realized that when I was practicing it. Um. Umm.”

Haru raised an eyebrow. Legosi had looked down at his hands like he was contemplating strangling himself with them.

“That’s, I mean, it’s n-not to say that I don’t want to!” he exclaimed. “It’s just, I didn’t, we’re skipping a few steps, aren’t we? I had plans, I mean I’d started to have plans, I even priced out engagement rings for small mammals and the cost wasn’t too bad, but then I’d have to get your ring size somehow and I figured I’d have to ask your parents and that made me really nervous so I decided it’d be best to ask this first, and…” He looked up, ears pinned back as if hoping for a meteor strike to wipe him from the earth. “I knew I should have waited until we got to the gardens…”

Left to his own devices, he may well have continued stammering until the end of time. But he didn’t get the chance, because Haru launched himself at him like a tiny rocket and grimly gripped his pantlegs. Before he could even register her presence she’d already clambered up him halfway, scaling the edifice of him, and then she grabbed his scruff and held on for dear life.

“Haru, what are you doing?!” He tried to hold her without actually touching her; this tactic found limited success. “You’re going to fall. The police can see us!”

Haru’s tiny fingers tightened even further on his pelt, and she craned her head around to the cops, who were pointing and frantically muttering to each other. She sucked in a deep breath.

“Hey, officers!” she shouted. “I’m gonna marry this guy!”

Legosi froze. His tail perked, and then started wagging at velocities that would have likely kneecapped anyone standing nearby. Haru looked back into his toothy, ear-to-ear grin, and pressed her lips against those fangs. The cops stared in bafflement, and the flow of animals around them paused, some grinning, some disapproving, but all of them stopping their respective journeys to take in this spectacle. The grey wolf, and the dwarf rabbit.

*             *             *

So long as he wore Adler’s cloak, the wind leading out of the forest was always at his back. It was her parting gift, a weak substitute for the one she had originally intended, but enough to guide him out of those woods in due time. However, the territory into which Wander emerged was no less hospitable – a vast desert of bone-bleached sand, from which gargantuan stone formations of uncertain make rose like the remains of fallen giants. The skies were starless and black, and the cloak (much too large, almost swallowing him completely) was no longer of any use, except for keeping him warm.

But fate took another odd turn. After untold days of traveling the sands, Wander came upon a pair of wraiths – ragpickers of the dead, crass and wretched beings who decorated themselves with baubles taken from other spirits who had come to unfortunate ends. Their bodies, swaddled under layers of filthy cloth and clattering refuse, were both striped black, as if they existed only halfway, and the whites of their teeth flashed as they slavered over Wander. But he remained courageous, and struck a bargain with them. They would guide him to the border of the Lamplighter’s domain, with the cloak as payment. A former possession of the disgraced Reaper was a fine prize for their ilk.

So onward they trekked, trading barbs the whole way, until something new appeared. A faraway sea of glittering lights, as though the stars had all been pulled to this horizon. The smaller of the two wraiths cackled and pointed to this sight.

“See there! The Lamplighter’s wicks make such a pretty glow, do they not?”

The larger one gnashed and drooled. “Often we’ve thought of taking one for ourselves. Mustn’t do it, though!”

“No, no, we mustn’t!”

“No nearer than this do we venture. By the edicts of the Powers-that-Be, oh yes.” The fanged darkness beneath its rags turned to Wander. “You should bless them, little soul. Bow down and give thanks!”

“I have scant cause to be grateful to those unseen tyrants,” Wander said acidly.

The smaller one tittered. “He doesn’t know! Doesn’t know!”

“It is by their will only that we have not flensed you and decorated ourselves with your bones,” said the larger. “You are anathema now. Cursed to walk this land as we do, until the very stars expire.”

“Unless the Lamplighter grants my request,” said Wander.

“The Lamplighter grants no requests,” said the smaller wraith. Her voice had gone lifeless as the desert itself. “Now give us our prize, or we shall take it from you.”

Wander unclasped the cloak and held it in his arms. Even though it had been separated from him, it radiated warmth, like some fragment of Adler’s will strove to protect him still. He offered it to the wraiths, and the larger one snatched it away and held it high, the smaller running her grubby striped fingers across its length.

“The finest of rags,” it said. “And all that remains of the Reaper.”

“Death comes for all,” Wander said quietly. Stripped of the garment, his exhaustion was clear.

“Not for you, little soul,” said the larger wraith. “Not until the Powers declare it. That is your punishment. But perhaps we shall trail you awhile longer, for amusement. And if you do succumb, we may pick your sorry shade clean.”

“Pickings would be scarce, I fear,” said the smaller. “Poor little soul. Deprived, bereft, in life and death.”

“Never had anything.”

“Never knew anything.”

“Never was anything.”

“Begone, both of you,” Wander snapped. “Our bargain is fulfilled. No fate can be worse than another minute spent in your company.”

The wraiths stalked off. Their taunting laughter echoed across the wastes. Then there was only the mournful sound of the wind, and Wander clutched himself and shivered in that gritty breeze.

“Death cares for me,” he said. “That is enough.”

He ventured on, towards the twinkling lights. In time, they revealed themselves to be not stars, but globes of crystal-bright glass, each holding a single candle – countless, endless, drifting from horizon to horizon. Wander moved among these flames, and as he did, wicks sputtered out and flared up around him, to form an ever-shifting pattern of glimmer. The wind had ceased. There was no sound here at all.

“They’re all alike, you know.”

Wander gasped and spun, searching amidst the candles, but could not see the owner of that creaking, mirthless voice – though a shape did drift through the flicker at the corners of his vision, as if manifesting from the candlelight itself.

“Each is a life. Shorn of all pretensions. Bodies fall and rot, dreams wither and fade, but this light persists…until it, too, must be doused. The Reaper swings her scythe, and I darken a lamp. The Powers-that-Be speak a word, and I rekindle. All connected. Immutable. Inescapable.”

“Show yourself,” said Wander, though his bravado faltered.

“I am here.” And there he was, a hunched and arthritic figure clad in a simple robe of coarse brown cloth. He clutched a staff bedecked with dripping candles, and tipped it toward one of the darkened lamps; it flared into life, provoked by the gesture alone. The beak that jutted from his hood gleamed yellow, and when he turned to Wander, the eyes above that beak burned the same shade – literally burned, two dancing flames deep within the sockets, as though more candles had been lit in the hollow of his skull. 

“Are you the Lamplighter?” Wander asked.

He grunted; it was obvious. “I commend you for making it this far. It’s been some time since I had visitors. Let alone a mortal one.”

He flicked his wing and, in the distance, a horde of lamps went dark, enough to encompass a small nation. Wander stood dumbfounded at the representation of it – so much life, extinguished so casually – but even as he watched, new lights appeared within that blackened patch, like emergent stars.

“It’s a fine mess you and Adler have made,” he said peevishly. “A new Reaper must be crafted to replace the old. Until then, I’m saddled with her duties as well as my own.”

“So she has perished.”

“Her like is never truly alive or dead. But even she has a lamp here, somewhere. And yes, it has gone out. By the Powers’ own breath.” He shook his head. “A meaningless sacrifice.”

“You would not respect her final wish?”

“There are more final wishes that have gone unfulfilled than there are grains of sand in this desert. Adler’s is no different.” His staff clacked as he hobbled away from Wander, and the lamps’ aimless drift seemed to converge around him, as if they were extensions of the Lamplighter himself – eyes with which he now gazed at the lost soul, pitying and scornful. Wander’s fists clenched.

“Reprehensible spirits,” he said, voice quivering in rage. “All of you are content to be slaves to the edicts of those hateful Powers. How can you claim dominion over mortals, with nary a mote of understanding for any of us?”

“Here is something for you to understand,” the Lamplighter retorted. “You found yourself lost in this purgatorial land, did you not? Bereft of identity. No recollection of your prior origin and nature. Mortal souls only enter this predicament if their demise was particularly gruesome, or sudden…or desired.” Those burning pits looked right through him. “Even if you did return to the living world, it’s likely that naught but further suffering would await you. Walk this ground for another eon or so, and perhaps the Powers-that-Be will take pity and usher you back to your rest.”

“Only Adler is permitted to kill me,” said Wander.

“Adler is no more. She was poisoned by sentimentality. A curious affliction for a Reaper. She should have understood better than anyone that all lives are equal.”

Wander fell silent. He looked once more at the lamps, this constantly unfolding constellation. In their light, cast from those perfect crystal sphere, the weariness and bitterness melted away from his features; his pilot-light eyes were filled with wonder.

“Perhaps so,” he said at last.

“I am glad you understand. Leave me to my work. Adler’s wish, like so many others, will not be granted here.”

“Then let it be altered.” He squared his shoulders before the Lamplighter. “You said that Adler has a lamp here, as well. Relight it. Bring her back to me.”

The Lamplighter showed little outward shock, save for laying both hands upon his staff. But when he spoke, the antediluvian rasp of his voice contained genuine disbelief.

“Unutterable folly,” he said. “For what possible cause?”

“The Powers-that-Be will not permit one to return to the living world. But Adler has no claim there. What sin would it be to revive her, just as the Elementals were before?”

“It would still be a defiance of the Powers! No greater sin, deserving of no greater punishment!”

“Then let it fall upon me.” He spread his arms wide as if welcoming their wrath. “I am, after all, the true source of this discord.”

“Senseless. Senseless!” He struck the ground with the butt of his staff. “Adler has been stripped of her title, her purpose. Only a husk remains of her now. And you would take her place, condemned to eternity in fathomless darkness, without even the faintest hope of clemency!”

“You are wrong. On both counts. Adler is Death, still. And there is nowhere that lies beyond Death’s grasp. Let the Powers-that-Be snatch me away. Let them cast me into the deepest, blackest perdition they can muster!” He raised his head, shouting into the starless skies. “I know that she will find me in the end!”

An ill wind blew. Every flame bent in its wake; even the Lamplighter’s eyes sputtered at it. There was a long silence, in which many possible futures could be contemplated, and the Lamplighter said:

“So be it.”

He raised his staff high and brought it down, and the sands shuddered at the thunder of its impact. Adler did not appear, but somewhere, within the specks and bands and plains of blackness which made up those departed souls, one light shone anew. Wander didn’t see it, nor did he make any attempt to seek it – not even when the horizon was rent by a distant guttural roar, growing rapidly closer. It was like a gale wind choked with bristling fangs, and indeed it devoured the land as it approached, blackness spilling like ink across the bleached desert. Wander held out his hands, welcoming it.

*             *             *

The memorial erected in front of the lecture-hall doors was long gone; one could only mourn for so long, after all. The room itself now bore no trace of the atrocity that had been committed there, the hardwood scoured clean, the rugs torn up and replaced, but while it was now technically usable, classes were no longer held there. If it was ever occupied, it was only as a study hall of last resort, or as part of a tasteless dare.

Strange, Riz thought, how easily he’d found his way back here.

He hadn’t been bothered when watching the play – his muzzle would have only been noticeable to the animals nearby, after all, and he’d been in the large-carnivore seats, so his bulk went without comment. When the lights had gone back up and the audience had started to file out of the auditorium, it had been a simple matter to break away from them and into the school’s silent, eerie halls, where the only sound was the fluorescents buzzing like flies over carrion. He could get into serious trouble if he was caught out here. But this had been part of the reason he’d come in the first place.

Riz didn’t go into the lecture hall itself; he wasn’t that brave, or that masochistic. But he stood before those doors and recalled the moments that had taken place here and beyond them, the bloody droplets spattering the linoleum, Tem’s frantic breath, the pleas that Riz could hardly hear over the roaring in his gut and in his head. And then the final rebuke, Tem seeing through him and condemning him as the monster he was. That had been the final push. Riz had teetered at the edge of the hole inside himself, and fallen in, and taken Tem along with him.

This was his tribute, insubstantial offerings to a non-existent shrine. He unspooled these memories like intestine and laid them at his feet. His regrets and his miseries, the knowledge that he’d gotten it all so wrong – and the unheard, unanswered hope that he’d be able to walk away from it someday, even if the consequences of his actions remained, like clawmarks under varnish.

He reached into one of his many pockets (Pina had been right, these pants were really handy for storage) and withdrew one of his pillboxes. It looked lost in the desert of his paw. When he’d taken it from behind the bathroom mirror, he’d had a notion to leave it at the doors, but now that he’d actually come here it all seemed a little ridiculous. Not to mention disrespectful. The gesture would easily be misinterpreted by anyone who stumbled across it.

“I wish I could’ve been better for you,” he said.

Then he looked up sharply, eyes wide, because he’d picked up new sounds underneath the fluorescents’ drone. Breathing, a heartbeat, both quick and light as a hummingbird’s wings. He turned on his heel and saw only empty halls. Riz replaced the pills and crept away, peered around the corner, and then fully stepped out, nonplussed. Pina was leaned up against the wall maybe half a dozen paces away, trying to look casual, but his cross-armed stance couldn’t quite conceal the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and his lazy expression belied the fact that he was still panting hard.

“Hi there,” he said.

“Pina? Did you run all the way here?”

“Maybe. A little. I don’t intend to make a habit of it.” He pushed away from the wall. “Sorry if I interrupted you.”

“It’s fine. Um, are your parents…?”

“On their way home, most likely. I told them in advance that I’d accept their warm congratulations in person later. My first priority was to stop you from skulking away into the night.” He looked around, a trifle nervously. “I take it your mother didn’t attend?”

“No. She has work. This isn’t really her thing, anyway.”

His bland excuses fell to the floor with a thud. Pina hitched his schoolbag up on his shoulder, all his aloof pretense gone now.

“How are things between you two?” he asked.

“Getting better. We’re trying to be more open with each other from now on, but it’s going to take a while. She doesn’t really know any other way to act.”

“I understand. Patterns of behavior leave their marks on you, after a while.”

There was something weighty being left unsaid, here. Big enough to drive a wedge between the two of them, despite all they’d accomplished. Riz could sniff at the edges of it, but wasn’t able to suss out its full shape. He settled for trivialities instead.

“I liked the play,” he said. “A lot. Maybe it’s partly because I’d never gotten a chance to sit in the audience before, but it felt even better than the stuff Louis put on.”

“Well, let’s hope Bill doesn’t think that. I’d never hear the end of it.” Pina clutched at his bag’s strap. “Any opinions on my last line?”

That got a smile out of him. “I recognized it, all right. You put that in?”

“I certainly did. And it worked on multiple levels, I think. You might not have been part of that production, Riz, but you were still right there onstage. With me.” He took a cautious step forward. “My evening’s free. If we leave now then we could probably mix with all the townies walking off campus.” Then his eyes widened, and he smacked his forehead. “Oh, shit. Your pills! Would you need to go home first, or…?”

“Don’t worry, I take them before bed anyway. And I actually brought some with me.” He patted his pocket. “Long story, but it worked out for us, right?”

“Let’s consider it a sign. So you’re available?”

“Sure.” He felt flushed, but not too badly. “Did you want to get dinner someplace? I can treat.”

“I wouldn’t mind that for starters,” said Pina. His gaze dropped. “But I was thinking that afterward, we could...do something else.”

Time passed. Pina’s words sank in. The temperature in Riz’s immediate vicinity appeared to climb rapidly. He waited for Pina to wink, or smirk, or do anything that would be more characteristic of him – his devastatingly unsubtle flirtations – but he just stood there, waiting for an answer. His coyness wasn’t feigned; he, like Riz, felt himself on the edge of a precipice, crucial and irrevocable.

“How?” Riz finally asked. “I mean, where? I mean…”

“I know a place we can go. That’s all planned out, at least. What happens then is up to you.” He fully closed the distance between them, laid his palms against Riz’s sweater. “I think the more important question right now is: do you trust me?”

And that was far more easily answered.

“I do,” said Riz.

“All right.” Pina reached up and stroked his caged snout. “Take me away from here.”

*             *             *

At its periphery, the realm degenerated into abstraction. Its landscapes became marble-smooth expanses of stone which rose and fell in brutalist pillars, set against a backdrop of impenetrable black. And further than that, the land dropped away entirely, so that only the darkness remained – the darkness, and the inchoate cetacean shapes which drifted through it, imperceptible to the eye and incomprehensible to the mind. The Powers-that-Be were always outside, looking in, and through their murmuring, the world was maintained and remade.

Now there was a new sound in this forbidden territory. The clacking of bootheels. Adler emerged, all her finery restored, her coloration resplendent, and stood at the lip of the abyss.

“Powers-that-Be,” she said. “I have returned.”

A tectonic rumble emerged from the dark, underscored with monstrous chattering like the shaking of an ossuary. They did not sound pleased to see her.

She’d awoken on the same spot where she had perished, fully restored, in a patch of greenery that had poked out of the caked layer of ash produced by her fight with Igni – as though the Lamplighter’s reprieve had even resurrected the earth around her. Shock gave way to a dread certainty as to the cause of her revival, and she’d sought out the Lamplighter herself, who had explained the details of Wander’s sacrifice. He had been tending to his work with somewhat less conviction than usual; it was clear that the Wander’s actions had shaken him. But Adler’s own resolve was only strengthened. She traveled to this cosmic terminus to attempt the impossible. A negotiation with beings who brooked no compromise and gave no quarter.

“You know why I have come,” she said. “The lost soul Wander is in your grasp. I ask that you release him. Give him back to me.”

A deep, bubbling chuckle, like the respiration of something at the bottom of a primordial swamp.

“It would be amusing indeed if I proposed to trade places with him once more,” she said, without humor. “But I do not. My request is that you let us both go. And let Wander return to the realm of the living.”

The air was split with a single explosive note that cracked the stones beneath her feet. In its echo came a mad staccato like raindrops on a sheet of tin, and the Powers-that-Be swirled and gnashed.

“Offense is not my intention. Out of respect for you, I speak truthfully. I wish for Wander’s restoration not out of duty, or commendation for his bravery. I do it because I care for him, as I should have cared for every soul that came before!”

Fanged thunder. Predatory din. The darkness raked at Adler, contriving to tear her apart. She raised her voice over the Powers’ outrage.

“You must have known it would come to this, Powers! The Lamplighter never would have permitted my revival without your sanction. The very earth would have splintered under my feet if you did not desire my presence here! All actions and intentions are contained within your ken. So you must sense it, too. The flaws in your grand design!”

An infernal screech ripped through the cacophony, enough to finally make Adler flinch away from the precipice. There was now a persistent subsonic vibrato in the lifeless air that threatened to crack her very bones.

“We cannot go on this way. Treating the mortals under our charge as equally trifling, equally inconsequential. Blind to the virtues and faults which drive them! If a new Reaper were to replace me, as cold and uncaring as I had been, then I know they would come to the same revelation, and the same tragedy would occur. Would you consign every lost soul to this darkness and cast away each Reaper as a failure, or allow this one moment of compassion to become the seed of something new? Would you adapt your design, Powers-that-Be, or bear witness to its perpetual unraveling?!” She flung her arms out wide. “The passions of mortals cannot be stifled! Without them, they would shamble through grey and sterile lives, scarcely different from their deaths, scarcely worthy of my scythe. Allow him to return, Powers-that-Be! And may the light within him, the same light that dwells within all his ilk, burn bright enough to be worthy of its mourning!”

The shrieking, gibbering, yammering wall of sound would grind this land to atoms; atrocity on loop, ear-rending calumnies like a collapsing scrapyard, screeches and snarls that violated every range of hearing, inescapable and everywhere. But Adler clutched her chest and delivered one final plea, her desperate voice arrowing through that abyssal fury:

“Powers, I beg you to understand! Of what use is death without love?!”

The noise ceased.

For some time there was only the ringing in Adler’s ears. She stood frozen in her earlier pose, her skull face grimacing into the stilled dark. Then came a long, frail breath, like the wind blowing across fallen leaves, and the shadows beside her receded – and there he was, lying unconscious, a curled pale shape. Adler and Wander, reunited at the end of the world.

*             *             *

It was impossible to mistake this place for anything other than what it was. Tinted windows. Full-length mirrors beside the bed, which was ringed by garish underlighting. The coloration was predominantly purple. But there were more mundane details, as well – the inexpensive flatscreen TV, the scarred corners of the dresser, an innocuous cigarette burn on the carpet by the bathroom. Riz focused on these latter aspects, to moor himself, because as Pina sashayed around the hotel room, stretching and sighing, he felt like he was about to vibrate right out of his skin.

“Seems acceptable,” Pina said, testing the mattress. “I’d prefer it to be softer, but there’s going to be some weight-distribution problems. If it wasn’t firm then I’d probably end up rolling right into you.”

“Mrm,” Riz said, which was about the only speech he could produce at the moment. He stood at the doorway like the room was covered in tripwires.

They’d eaten dinner at an ordinary sit-down noodle place, their food spiced with banal conversation. Riz’s stomach had been in knots but he’d forced himself to eat, remembered what Legosi had told him about the need to take care of himself – if he didn’t sate his appetite now, then it might seek satisfaction by other means. After they’d cleaned their bowls, Pina had led them to a neon-soaked part of town and walked through this hotel’s doors as casually as if it had been a library, exchanging words and money with someone who sat hidden behind frosted glass. He’d been given a key. He’d used the key. And now here they were.

Riz cracked his jaw open. “Have you been here before?”

“Not as often as you might think. It’s a real hassle sneaking out of Cherryton for a whole night.” Pina unslung his bookbag and placed it on the dresser. “Believe it or not, the TV packages at these places are actually decent. If you’d like to wind down a little then there might even be a cooking channel you could torture me with.”

“Pina.”

“Hm? What is it? Room too warm?”

“I know you already paid and everything, but I’m not totally comfortable with this. I’ve never…” He gestured jerkily from Pina, to the bed, to Pina again. “I’ve never done this before. In general. I didn’t really get the chance, with juvie and everything.”

“Well, I’ve never been with another male before and you’re the size of a walk-in freezer, so this is going to be a learning experience for both of us.” He looked away, fiddled with his bag’s buckle. “Riz, listen. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. But I’d like us to share a bed, at least. We’ve gotten about as close to each other as we can, otherwise.” He chuckled, but without much humor. “Sorry, but that’s the kind of guy you’re dating. I always want more and more.”

Riz swallowed, gripped the edge of the dresser, and took a step forward. Pina apparently interpreted that as some kind of assent, and flipped the bag open, growing brisker.

“That being said, if you do want to get, erm, ambitious, I came prepared. I hope. You could definitely use these, in any case.” He reached inside and Riz braced himself for what he might see, but to his surprise, Pina withdrew a couple of honey bottles, gave them a little shake. “Ta-da. I know you guzzle this stuff down like crazy but two of them ought to suffice, right? Hope store-brand is good enough, I never really paid attention to the labels…”

He put them down beside his bookbag, and Riz noticed the way the bottles chattered before he let them go. Pina’s hands were shaking. His voice might have been jaunty but as Riz drew closer it became clear how haggard he looked.

“Pina. Hey. Look at me.”

“What’s the matter now? I don’t-”

 He’d clipped his claws before going to the play, and so he was able to stroke Pina’s face without any fear of hurting him. Riz pushed back a few stray locks of wool, gently squeezed Pina’s side – his one hand was almost big enough to encompass the sheep’s ribcage.

“You must be tired,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. I’ve been making you work too hard.”

“Don’t be stupid. I have all the experience. It’s only fair that I take the lead.”

“You’ve taken the lead all this time. I want to give something back, now.”

“So this is okay?” Pina asked.

Riz nodded. “But I have conditions.”

“Let’s hear them.”

“You need to keep your distance from me. When we go to sleep, I mean. My strength control isn’t great when I’m unconscious and the headaches can make me restless. I’ve told you before about how I shred my bedding.” He brought his hands up in front of Pina’s face, flexed them slowly. “If you wake up and see me flailing around, don’t try to calm me down. Just get out of bed and turn on the lights or something. And if I actually grab you, wake me up however you can. Punch me in the nose if you have to.”

“All right,” he said. He was taking this seriously – no grins or quips. Riz sucked in breath and moved on to the last item.

“And the muzzle stays on,” he said. Pina’s eyes narrowed. “I know it’s a pain. But I need the reminder. This is supposed to be a good thing, Pina. I want to do everything I can to make sure it stays that way. Take it as slowly as I have to, even if it’s frustrating. Is that alright with you?”

Pina stepped back and scratched his horns, thinking it over. “I propose a compromise. If we wake up in the morning and I’m still in one piece, I get to take it off myself. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Alright then. First order of business is taking a damn shower. I really worked up a sweat onstage.”

He pulled his tie loose and cast it into the room’s corner, followed by his vest. Then he started unbuttoning his shirt. Springcoils of wool began to pop out as more of his chest was exposed. Pina’s body wasn’t nearly as well-groomed as the rest of him, but the wildness of that wool somehow enhanced his lithe form, rendered him more solid, more real; he stood out in this murky room like a flash of bone. He stretched again, yawned, and gave Riz a look.

“Riz, I draw the line at letting you sleep with your clothes on.”

He took the hint, and after several starts, removed his sweater. No sooner had he pulled it over his head than Pina was inches away, pushing his fingers into Riz’s fur.

“Good lord, this pelt. I could get lost in here.”

“Your wool looks nice too.” He hastily tossed the sweater onto the bed. “I mean, obviously it does.”

“It better, with all the effort I put into it. It would cost a fortune to keep all your fur properly conditioned, but maybe it'd be nice to hit a salon sometime, just to find out…” His touch moved up to Riz’s shoulder, and the deep, hairless streaks of his scars. “Ah. This was from Legosi?”

Riz stepped away and tried to put his own hand over the scars. “Yeah. He really got me good.”

“Why’re you covering them up?”

“Because they’re ugly.” Absurdly, his voice broke. “They’re from an ugly time.”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean you have to hide them from me. I’m going to accept every part of you, Riz.” Pina closed the distance and leaned against Riz’s chest. “I promise you. Before this ends, however it does, you’re going to understand how beautiful you really are.”

No reaction at first. Then Riz’s arms enfolded him, pressed Pina further into himself. Gentle though he was, Pina doubted he could break Riz’s grip even if he tried. It was quietly thrilling to him; the bear was everywhere he could touch.

“I never got to tell you in Meteor Square,” Riz said.

“Tell me what?”

“I love you.”

The harmonics of those words shuddered through him, into Pina. He shivered in response.

“Did it feel good to say that?” Pina asked.

“Yeah. It did.”

“Then do us both a favor.” He pressed himself harder against Riz’s skin. “Say it again.”

*             *             *

They had returned to the land of mists, everything permeated with soft white light. As before, Adler stood out like a gash in this pale space, but Wander also seemed far more solid, suffused with a radiance of his own. As they walked, the both of them moved to grasp the other’s hand, and then stopped, drifted away. Adler urged him forward.

“This is it,” she told him.

“Where do I go from here?”

“Anywhere. Whichever road you pick will guide you home.”

“Home,” he repeated, as if mimicking a foreign tongue. “And what will become of me?”

“That I do not know. I concern myself with the end of lives, not their beginnings, or their resumptions. Perhaps you will return just before the moment of your previous departure. Perhaps after. Perhaps something else entirely. Nor could I speculate what manner of life awaits you. What tribulations.” She paused. “You may find yourself back here sooner than you expected.”

“I would hope not to squander this gift, after all you went through for my sake.”

“Your experiences here will fade. Any gratitude you may feel now is bound to dissipate, easily as fog.” She cast her hand across the mists. “How you live is up to you. My only role is to greet you when next you return here, and usher you to whatever comes after. Another, final farewell.”

Wander looked back at her, smiling gently. “Is that a hint of sorrow upon your graven countenance?”

Adler, bewildered, touched her unemotive skull. She stood still as Wander approached her.

“Be at ease, Adler. Undertake your duties without regret. That is how you must live, the same as I. You claimed to witness bravery in me. Then let whatever life, whatever name, be confronted with that same bravery. I will endure. And when my end comes, I will face it unafraid. Because in my dreams, the truth will make itself known: love awaits beyond the veil, its grasp inescapable as death.”

He reached out and cradled the side of Adler’s skull. After an endless moment, she placed her hand atop his own. The Reaper and her quarry, connected one last time.

“Someday,” said Wander, “you will find me.”

Wander lingered a second longer before turning on his heel and walking into the fog. His outline soon became one with it, and then drifted apart, the sound of his footsteps fading to nothing.

The mists parted and the landscape grew dark. Alone now, Adler looked heavenward, where the once-barren skies were now studded with lights like an overturned jewelbox. She spoke with reverent awe.

“I can see them.”

She reached up as though she intended to sweep them into her palm.

“Brilliant and innumerable as the stars. Wheeling on their orbits, bound for unknowable destinations. I know not what journeys they may take. Only that they all find their way to me, in the end.”

The lights, as if startled by their witnessing, began to wink out, one by one, casting the land into sleepy shadow. Slowly, Adler lowered her hand.

“I shall remain ever fascinated by the circulation of these little lives. So fleeting. So fragile.”

The last light grew dim.

“So beautiful.”

Full darkness.

*             *             *

The room’s opaque windows blocked the light of dawn. It strained it through the outer cracks, so that everything was still fuzzed with murk. Riz winced and woke up by degrees; his bedding was undamaged, his headache tolerable, though there was an odd stabbing pain focused on the back of his head in particular. He touched his face and felt the muzzle, and then remembered what he was wearing, where he was. With trepidation, he looked to the other side of the bed and saw a curled, white, anonymous shape.

His sense of smell was dulled by the rubber cage. His hearing drowned by the thump of his own blood. He looked away and stared numbly at the ceiling, because this was how the dreams had always begun. Any minute now, the sweet taste of blood might flood his mouth. He started to talk, as if the sound of his voice would hold that taste at bay.

“I had bad dreams, when I was in juvie,” he said. “Tem was always in them. Or what I’d turned him into, anyway. It was like I couldn’t help but find him everywhere I went. I thought it was all right, at first. What I deserved. I was always going to carry a part of him with me, after what I’d done. I kept telling myself that he’d want me to suffer this way. But that was a lie, wasn’t it? Tem can’t want anything anymore. That’s the scariest part. It’s just me, now. And I couldn’t admit what I wanted for myself. But I think it’s time. I want to move on. To know when it’ll be okay to finally let him go.”

He looked beside him again. In that disheveled white mass, a single blue eye was now visible. Like the sky behind clouds.

“Pina, this is real, isn’t it?” he asked, voice trembling. “You’re here with me, aren’t you?”

The sheets rustled as Pina pushed himself up. His joints crackled and popped as he crawled to Riz’s side of the bed, and then atop Riz himself, splayed out on him like he was a second mattress. Riz went rigid but Pina still didn’t offer any explanation, not even a change of expression, just looking down at him heavy-lidded like he was pondering a difficult math problem. Pina’s fingers traced the muzzle’s straps, and Riz remembered their promise. He lifted his head, and Pina fumbled with the clip. The sound of it breaking open was very loud.

The muzzle was lifted away and Riz’s nostrils flooded with Pina’s scent, still bearing traces of the cheap hotel shampoo. With pointer and index finger, Pina lifted Riz’s upper lip, traced the curves and valleys of his fangs. He didn’t slip them further in, past that sharpened gateway to his tongue, but Riz nonetheless tasted his suckling warmth. The blue of his eyes was bright enough to hurt. And then Pina withdrew his fingers, and his face descended. They kissed.

They took it slow, as they would have to in the following days and weeks and months. Riz remained still at first, allowed Pina to sample him, kissing the outer reaches of his snout like he was searching for weak points. When he pushed further to the fangs underneath, Riz opened his mouth, granted him access, his hands now running across Pina’s back. And when their tongues touched, that warm and questing meat, their breath quickened, the tempo of their heartbeats drumming hard; Pina gripped and pulled at Riz’s pelt and Riz stroked him back, his hands consuming him, the fragile perfection of him, as they savored one another’s flavor.

They broke away and licked their lips. Smiling, still alive.

“Morning,” said Pina.

“Morning,” said Riz.