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Sylvie woke the next morning with the sun. She hated waking this early but her body dictated its schedule and there was little she could have done considering the time she went to bed. Looking out the window shown the dawn hadn't even completely chased off the night and she grumbled. This is not how she wanted to start...

...the first day of a new job! Her memories began to coalesce and a grin worked its way across her face. Her walk from the bedroom took on a swagger and she danced to a song in her head as she brushed her teeth. The dancing grew more animated as she made her way to the kitchen and she'd couldn't stop the waggling of her hips even as she saw her options consisted of oatmeal or a box of Frosted Flakes which she found, after tossing a few in her mouth, were stale. In a mood of not caring, she decided to mix the two and have something different. If her career choice was going in a different direction, why shouldn't her breakfast?

The meal took longer than she planned but she'd had become engrossed by the end of the book. It had, as per the others in the series, ended with unanswered questions but guaranteed she would be reading the sequel whenever it was released. A look at the clock showed it to be mid-morning and she cleaned her dishes before seeing to herself in the bathroom.

The bus was nearly empty when she boarded an hour later, which is what she expected for this time of day on a Sunday. After all the years of being forced to attend whatever sanctimonious hellhole her mother dragged her to, she had learned the general pace of this particular day well. It was, in fact, the last institution of spiritual learning which had caused the serious beginnings of discord.

Sylvie had not slept well the night before due to eating expired food from the refrigerator, food her mother insisted was fine because whatever god she'd been praying wouldn't let it spoil. When morning came, Sylvie was a mess and had fallen asleep in the bathroom by the toilet lest she get sick on the carpet. Her mother had come in and browbeat her into dressing and getting cleaned up for church. At twelve-years-old, Sylvie knew how her mother treated her wasn't right but she was her mother and Sylvie tried to acquiesce as best she could.

Standing at the sink, brushing her hair into a ponytail, she felt herself begin to sweat and her gorge rise. She made it to the toilet in time to expel most of the partially digested food into the bowl but some had made it onto her clothes, which was smeared when she fell to her knees, preparing for another fit. Her mother had come in screaming about the fact they were going to be late and what had Sylvie had done to her blouse and how ungrateful of a daughter she was and how Sylvie was going to Hell. Sylvie countered, of course, that she didn't care because she was agnostic and it didn't matter. She wasn't aware what the word meant, only that she had read it in a book and seemed to cause no little trouble with the family in 1700's New England. It appeared to have a similar reaction with her mother, who backed out of the bathroom, muttering to herself, making strange motions with her hands in the manner the church dictated.

Sylvie's mother had never asked her to church again after that. In fact, Sylvie's mother had distanced herself about as far as she could from Sylvie without child services intervening. Sylvie had never known why her mother simply hadn't let her go to someone who might value Sylvie as a person, which was still something which bothered her to this day if she allowed herself to brood over it. As it was, her mother became more ingrained by the church, which Sylvie came to eventually believe was really a cult, and turned to drinking while she was away from it. Religion and spirituality where henceforth never discussed, unless her mother could somehow use it against her, and Sylvie's beliefs became comfortable enough that she knew when she died she wouldn't be spending it in eternal damnation - namely, because she was already living there.

The bus shuddered to a halt, pulling her attention back from her reminiscing, and she found she was nearly at the library. Gathering up the book, she stood and waited for a few more blocks to pass, not oblivious to the stares being given to her by other riders, nor the one behind her who elected to change seats. It did bother her, of course, but she'd been dealing with it all hear life and took solace in knowing, for example, a beautiful vixen with a bobbed tail or strange colouring would likely not be able to endure the same ostracizing she did. This caused her to smile and want to lift her tail just a bit in a mock threat but knew this would only perpetuate the stereotype of her species.

The walk to the library was uneventful and she even noticed no one crossed the street to get away from her. This was, of course, driven by the fears her mother instilled in her - ones she'd never been completely able to shake. Skunks were everywhere, just like opossums, hyenas, rats, and other species generally ascribed to her ilk, and had to be interacted with on a daily basis. The people doing that, however, were generally marginalized individuals themselves. It all worked in a dysfunctional way but at least society, as a whole, hadn't come crashing down.

Sylvie slid the book into the deposit slot without going in. She knew the likelihood of getting absorbed in another book was high and, while she liked reading, wanted to live in her own world for a while. She didn't quite know what the day would bring but wasn't sure about going to the park. She'd never had any trouble there, herself, but the aftermath of taking Emily home still bothered her when she thought about how close to death she had been. She could always peruse various stores but, like with most things, she'd be viewed with derision and generally ignored. That suited her fine, however, since she didn't have the money to spend. The things Tiffany had suggested from the thrift store were waiting for her and she felt she owed it to the tiger to try them out before discarding them for something her mother would call "reasonable".

She did settle for walking down the sidewalk in the warm weather, window shopping along the way, wondering why her thoughts kept coming back to her mother today. Sylvie viewed her with as much disdain as others viewed her species and wanted today to be a happy occasion. She was sure once she got to work her attitude would change but she wanted the day to be free of concerns and just take the time to enjoy herself - she had a job and didn't need to worry about trying to find another one. She just had to convince herself that at the end of the week she could keep living on as she was - and hopefully better - or she would be moving out and could leave the city behind. What would happen after that she tried not to think about.

A glint of light from her right showed the sun reflecting off the front of a newspaper box. Being a college town, this box served the university and it's publications. The picture on the front page caused her to stop and take a closer look. Eyes wide, she pulled on the door and withdrew a copy. There, in grainy colour printing, was the cougar who'd approached her yesterday. He was unconscious and seemingly naked, duct taped to a flag pole. The photo was far enough away to show what she assumed to be his boxers flapping in the breeze above him. She laughed to herself and put the paper back, glad she had read the situation correctly and not been involved in someone's hazing.

Some of the shops were closed for the day while others were doing brisk business. Generally she was ignored by those around her. Most were engaged in conversations with friends but even the lone walkers seemed to view her with indifference. This was a welcome change and she didn't know whether to chalk it up to the less biased opinions which typically accompanied college students or some evil subtext her mother had pounded into her brain which stated that unless she was being marginalized something was wrong. The thought made her swear inwardly and she wished her mother would just go away. It seemed putting hours and miles between them wasn't enough to free Sylvie.

From somewhere to her left church bells began to ring, only to be joined moments later by other bells from other parts of the city. She paused to hear the sound resonate off the buildings and vibrate through her. It was glorious to hear, and differentiate, each song which was playing and was simply amazing when they all synchronized and chimed noon together. The moment put a smile on her face and she hurried to the next bus stop, cognizant it would soon be filling with churchgoers and other worshipers.

At the third stop, Sylvie ceded her seat to a very pregnant mother and her daughter. The action earned her a word of thanks and the little girl stared at Sylvie as she stood, hanging onto the overhead rail. Sylvie tried various faces to engage the girl but was met with a stony response. After a few minutes Sylvie gave up and looked to watch the world pass by. After a while she realized the girl was still staring at her and tried offering a smile. The girl simply continued to look at her and, by the time Sylvie's stop came around, she was sufficiently creeped out enough to be glad at leaving the girl behind.

Standing inside her apartment, she again felt a restlessness and wanted to be somewhere else. The problem was anywhere else cost money and she had precious little of that. Shopping had taken most of her reserves and she was hoping she might be able to convince Nathan to make her something to eat tonight and pay him back when she got paid. She could always ask Tiffany to borrow a few bucks but didn't want to think where that might lead and what kind of light it would put her in. She was sure the tigress would help but didn't want to seem needy. Then an idea from the other day dawned on her and, opening the door once again to check the weather, went to her bedroom to change into her swimsuit before sliding back into her pants and t-shirt. It might not be warm enough to go swimming but that didn't mean she wouldn't give it a try or couldn't lay on the beach.

Taking the last five dollar bill from her meager stash, she walked out of the apartment with her small bag containing her towel and other beach items. She had waited long enough for the buses to have discharged the majority of their Sunday morning passengers and was able to choose her seat pretty much anywhere in the bus. She earned a few stares as she passed and overheard murmurs in another language as she passed a small group of meerkats all dressed alike. Like every other time, she ignored it as best she could and took her seat towards the rear of the bus.

Two stops later, and staring out the window, she was surprised to hear someone settle into the seat across from her. She tried to not looked surprised when she saw a raccoon in a long dress staring at her instead of out the window. Seeing their eyes meet, the raccoon smiled and sat up straighter.

"May I help you?" Sylvie said after realizing she was being expected to start the conversation.

"I'm Kaitlyn. Nice to meet you." The raccoon extended her hand and Sylvie hesitantly shook it. It reminded her of a holding a dead fish and tried to surreptitiously wipe off the feeling on her jeans.

"Sylvie," she said, giving a dismissive smile and staring back out the window. Something about this encounter just seemed a bit...off.

"Beautiful day," Kaitlyn said. Sylvie nodded, looking past the raccoon, trying to calculate the distance to the next stop. "Like it was made for a purpose."

Like me getting to enjoy the beach, Sylvie thought. It was becoming obvious the raccoon wasn't going to leave her alone. "Every day has a purpose," Sylvie said.

Kaitlyn gave a forced laugh. "Of course it does. Do you know why that is?" Too late, Sylvie shook her head. "Because it's God's plan for each of us."

Fuck! Sylvie kept repeating the word in her head over and over again. Everything suddenly began to make sense - the way the raccoon was dressed, Sylvie being required to speak first as an invitation, the slightly strange way Kaitlyn chose to interact with her. She'd met this particular branch of zealots many years ago and thought she'd left them behind when she'd left home. Kaitlyn, for her part, didn't seem to notice Sylvie had retreated to her own world and had kept talking.

Feeling the bus start to decelerate, Sylvie grabbed a tighter hold of her bag and waited until she could feel the bus actually beginning to stop before she stood up. To her horror, Kaitlyn stood up with her.

"This is my stop, too. Maybe we can continue our talk if we're going in the same direction."

"I doubt we're going to the same place," Sylvie said, moving past the other woman. The rear doors would have been closer but Sylvie hoped moving towards the front, where majority of the passengers were, would put some distance between her and the raccoon by using the other riders as shields. Either sensing what Sylvie was doing, or because they didn't want to be behind a skunk, they allowed her to pass unobstructed and didn't follow. Setting foot on the sidewalk, Sylvie quickly began her walk back the length of the bus.

"The glory, which is God, can clearly be seen in the everyday miracles we know as life," the raccoon said from behind Sylvie, her voice growing louder, if anything. "It is through Him we will know our eternal salvation."

The air brakes of the bus hissed and it began moving forward once more. With a quick jump and turn, Sylvie slid through the closing rear doors, leaving the raccoon behind. A look out the back window showed Kaitlyn clearly displeased and expressing it in a way Sylvie was sure her faith wouldn't approve. Smiling to herself, she took a seat and closed her eyes, hoping the rest of the ride to the beach wouldn't be nearly as interesting. Her wish very nearly came true but, at least, what she saw was interesting, even if in a morbid way.

Nearing one of the last stops, as the bus slowed, she saw what appeared to be a small shrine on the sidewalk not far away from the awaiting passengers. The closer she got, she was able to see a small, dead animal with flowers and other gifts of remembrance surrounding it. The shrine was empty beer bottle box someone had haphazardly decorated with pictures of nuts and trees. It all struck her as funny and she began chuckling. Once she was finally upon it, Sylvie saw the deceased was a feral squirrel which had evidently been hit. A small sign on top of the shrine proudly proclaimed the squirrel had been laying there for the past three days without city services doing a thing to take it away.

Probably got caught up talking to that raccoon, Sylvie thought, giggling. _Decided to do itself in rather than keep listening._For whatever reason, the idea of that caused her to laugh, though she quickly stifled it as she received a few curious looks. Nevertheless, she wore a smile the rest of the way to the beach.

The sand squished its way through her toes the way only sand could do. The beach was relatively empty and she'd been comfortable enough to leave her towel and bag behind as she tested out the water. Besides, it wasn't as if she had much to steal anyway. The sea was still cool from the changing seasons but it took a minute before it filtered through her hair into direct contact with her skin. For a moment she was exhilarated, then a chill passed through her and she began making her way back to the shore. The sun would feel good to lay under but she always enjoyed how the water buoyed her body and supported her. She surmised it was something psychological, a primitive center in her brain which reminded her of being in the womb, and, once again, her mother was in her thoughts.

Back on the beach, she wiped as much water off as she could and squeezed her tail to wring it out. She would allow the sun to dry her but didn't care for the weight of the water pulling her hair in all directions until it evaporated. Laying down on her towel, she put on her hat and sunglasses, planning to take a nap in the warmth of the sun. Instead, her eyes went to the clouds floating lazily overhead and she began first forming them into shapes then making the shapes in stories. There was no coherency in the tales being told other than they all seemed to share a food theme. Her stomach voiced its opinion and she took out the last granola bar, opting to save the five dollars for a late lunch off a value menu somewhere.

Hunger assuaged for the time being, she laid back, feeling the warmth of the sun soak into her. She imagined her black hair of her arms and legs absorbing the heat faster but the comfortable warmth on her white stomach belied that thought and soon she found herself fending off sleep; after a few minutes of this, she allowed herself to succumb.

She didn't know how long she'd slept, except to see the sun had moved across the sky. She was plenty dry by now and, though she could have wished for something more exciting, was satisfied with how her afternoon had gone. Sitting up, the lack of footprints anywhere near her showed she'd been left alone and she reached into her bag to pull out a brush. She worked out the tangles on her head before replacing the hat. The rest of her took a cursory run through to get rid of the sand before she started on her tail. It was, inevitably, the part which took the longest to work with and allowing it to dry without some organization while she slept probably hadn't been the best idea. Even still, she took great pleasure in making it attractive and was always pleased with how the salt in the sea affected its appearance.

Once finished, she took another look around the beach and saw a few new people had shown up while others had left. It was still far from busy and she credited that to the fact children were still in school and most parents probably thought it was too cold to swim. She couldn't really argue the last point but she also didn't think most kids would want to lay on the sand rather than playing with it or, for the older kids, each other in the water. Still, stealing a look at her watch, she saw it was time to go and began packing up her things. Taking care to try and not take home sand in her bag, she cleaned everything as best she could but it was impossible to completely rid it from her towel. She shook it a few times to get off what she could and folded it to pack away. Stepping back to make sure she'd gathered everything, something poked her foot and she reached down to find out what.

In the center of her footprint, a white point was poking through the sand and she removed a crumpled piece of paper. Except that it wasn't paper - it was a well-worn, though still legally spendable, twenty dollar bill. It was impossible to say how long it had been buried, though she'd chosen a spot on the beach which didn't appear to have been frequented in a while. Part of her wanted to turn it into lost-and-found but who was to say whomever lost it had reported it? Who was to say it was even lost recently? Plenty of people went up and down the beach with metal detectors collecting lost change and jewelry and they certainly kept what they found.

She could have stood there and argued with herself for the rest of the day but, finally, it was the gurgling in her stomach which convinced her to not question fate. If someone came asking about it and _if_they could prove they'd lost it at the beach then Sylvie would be more than happy to reimburse them. That would certainly be easier to do on a full stomach and with a paycheck in her pocket. Still, to assuage her guilt, as she finished packing, she promised she would give it to anyone who asked her between here and bus stop. It also helped her conscience to know she wouldn't be having to mooch off of Nathan tonight.

The way to the bus stop was mostly empty and the few people she did pass were going the opposite direction, more than a couple giving her a wide berth, though, she did notice, a few seemed to be admiring her in her outfit.

Well, maybe not, but I can at least believe so.

The only bad spot came when she saw the bus nearing the stop and a familiar figure hurrying from the other end of the beach. The dress was a bit bedraggled and her hair wasn't as neat but the raccoon was clearly Kaitlyn.

Shit, Sylvie thought, trying not to make eye contact as the bus hissed to a stop. Climbing aboard, she stood towards the front of the bus watching as Kaitlyn drew closer, silently willing the driver to go.

"I've got twenty dollars for you if we leave now," she found herself saying. While true, it would put her back in the same position she'd been in earlier. It was also uncharacteristic for her to be act like this but there was something about the raccoon and her "church" which rankled her.

The driver looked at her, then at Kaitlyn, shrugged, and closed the doors. Even over the acceleration of the engine, Sylvie could clearly hear the most certainly non-church-sanctioned vocabulary of the raccoon being screamed at them. When she saw Sylvie, however, she became apoplectic and began throwing things at the departing bus. By this time, many of the other passengers were watching Kaitlyn out the window, with only a few making a connection between her and the skunk at the front of the bus.

Sylvie sat down and fished out the twenty dollars from her bag. Looking wanly at it, she extended it toward the driver.

"Keep it," he said, glancing at her in the mirror. "That bitch has been harassing riders on the line all day long. Serves her right to get stranded for a bit."

"Thank you." Sylvie smiled at him and sat back in her seat. The smile didn't leave her face until she reached the apartment.