Chapter 3: Fox and Mouse by HeatherOBunn

Chapter 3: Fox and Mouse

HeatherOBunn, Cat, Chapter, College, Dorm, Food, Fox, History, Mouse, Novel, Predator/Prey, Romance, Squirrel, Vixen, Wolverine, assistance, crutches, disabled, nap, roommate, test

#3 of Flora: A Tale from Vulpineva

Flora meets Cynthia.

Chapter 3: Fox and Mouse

Isabelle had reappeared by morning, and Flora stealthily slipped out of the room without

waking the red vixen after donning a sky blue pleated skirt that ended an inch and a half above

her knees and throwing her green book bag over her left shoulder. After a quick breakfast of

toast, turkey sausage links, and tea, she took a brisk trot around the campus to fully wake

herself up and get some exercise. Then she proceeded to the chemistry building to take her

test.

Lance and Becca had not yet arrived when she entered the tiered lecture hall with its

long, curved maple tables facing the marker board and projector screen at the front of the

trapezoidal room. Only a few students were already present. The tables and chairs decreased in

size toward the front of the room from puma-sized in the back to rabbit-sized in the front. Flora

trotted down the left side ramp, around the front-row table, and up the right side ramp to the

second row.

As she was sitting down, a small door in the front left corner swung open with a robotic

whine, and a little brown and white wood mouse with a magenta backpack and a cast on their

left leg hobbled in on a pair of crutches. Flora watched as the mouse climbed the gently graded

left ramp until they disappeared behind the front row table. After a moment, when the mouse

didn't reappear, Flora curiously checked the edge of the table to her right: there was a little rope

ladder extending from the maroon carpeted floor up the right inner wall of the four-sided table to

a tiny trap door that Flora had mistaken for a hole for one's computer cord. Flora turned back

toward the left end of the front-row table, but the mouse hadn't reappeared. Concerned that they

were having trouble climbing the ladder with their injured leg, Flora stood and trotted back

around the front of the room. She pulled out the rolling, black plastic chair at the first left spot on

the front table and crouched down to peer underneath. The mouse stared back nervously from

the shadowed underside of the table, one-third of the way up the ladder with their crutches

resting at the bottom.

"Can I help you?" Flora asked softly.

The mouse started at her warily for a moment then nodded.

The mouse was about the size of an apricot. Flora carefully wrapped her left hand under

the mouse's arms. She picked up the crutches in her other hand and slowly withdrew mouse

and crutches from under the table before standing to gently place the mouse on top, transferring

their crutches to them one at a time before removing the support of her hand.

"I hope there's a desk and chair for you to work at," Flora remarked concernedly.

The mouse pointed toward the front of the room, "There are some on the professor's

desk," she squeaked.

Flora bounded down from the first-row tier to collect a miniature desk and rolling chair

from the rectangular desk that held a wooden podium emblazoned with RCV's seal and the

computer and panel to work the projector as well as a block of a dozen or so little desks and

chairs of three different sizes. Flora selected a desk and chair that seemed to be the right size

for the mouse and hopped back up beside the first-row table to arrange them on the smooth

veneer wood surface.

"Do you need any more help?" Flora asked.

The mouse shook their head.

"Alright, just shout or wave if there's something else I can do." Flora hopped down to

proceed back to the other side of the room.

"Thank you for helping," the mouse squeaked.

Flora turned and offered her a warm smile, "No problem."

"My name's Cynthia by the way," the mouse added.

"I'm Flora."

"Good luck on the exam."

"You too."

Flora returned to her seat at the right end of the second table. More students slowly

filtered in with Becca taking the seat in front of Flora and Lance taking the one behind. They

wished each other luck, and a minute or so later, the professor, a lanky red vixen in a sleeveless

black dress, strode down the right side of the room with a stack of multisized papers, some

wider than the vixen and others not even a notecard. The latter were held together with tiny

paper clips so that they wouldn't blow away.

"Face down until everyone has theirs," she instructed. She distributed the tests and

glanced at the analogue clock on the front wall, "You may begin."

There was a rustle of paper as everyone turned over their exams. Flora picked up her

mechanical pencil and began.

The test was challenging, but Flora found her high school class and recent studying had

prepared her well. She answered the short answer and multiple choice questions, read through

them again to make sure she hadn't misread anything, and then looked toward the professor at

the front of the room: a small stack of completed tests was resting on the rectangular desk

whilst the red vixen silently worked at the computer. Flora stood and quietly carried her exam

down to the front of the room and laid it on the pile. The professor glanced up at her and smiled;

Flora smiled back shyly. She glanced toward Cynthia's seat as she turned around: the mouse

was still working. After a moment's hesitation, she turned back to the professor.

She murmured softly, "May I wait until Cynthia's done?"

The red vixen blinked at her questioningly.

"The mouse with the injured leg," Flora clarified bashfully.

The professor glanced toward Cynthia and back to Flora bemusedly, "Are you two

friends?" she asked in a curious whisper.

"Sort of," Flora explained self-consciously. "I want to make sure she gets down okay."

"You can wait." The professor looked back to the computer.

Flora returned to her chair. She didn't want to stare at Cynthia in case it distracted her,

but every so often she gave her a sideways glance to check whether she was still working.

At last, the professor stood. "Alright, pencils down," she ordered. She quickly walked

around the room to collect the exams. "I'll have the results to you by Thursday. I hope to see

some of you in class this semester." She added the final tests to the stack on the desk before

returning to the computer.

Flora slung the straps of her backpack over her shoulders and quickly made her way to

Cynthia's seat. The brown and white mouse looked up at her shyly.

"How do you think you did?" Flora asked genially.

"Pretty well. You?" Cynthia squeaked nervously.

"I think I did pretty well too," Flora replied. She offered the mouse a friendly smile that

she hoped was reassuring; she knew being approached by someone so much larger, especially

a predator, was most likely making the mouse nervous. "A couple of my friends and I are having

lunch soon. Do you want to join us?"

Cynthia considered her uncertainly for a second but then smiled shyly, "That sounds

nice, thanks."

"Do you mind if I carry you?"

Cynthia shook her head, "It's been hard getting around campus with this broken leg. I'd

appreciate the help if you're willing. I can't move very fast, and I'm afraid someone will step on

me again."

Flora frowned concernedly, "Is that how your leg got broken to start with?"

Cynthia nodded, "I wasn't watching where I was going, and a dog stepped on me. I was

lucky it was only my leg but unlucky that it was right before I had to start school."

"That's terrible! They should have assigned you someone to help you," Flora replied,

disturbed by the mortal risk Cynthia had been callously left to. "I'll help you get where you need

to go as long as you need me to!"

"Th-that's very kind of you," the mouse squeaked embarrassedly.

"It's the least I can do," Flora returned firmly.

Cynthia picked up her book bag from beside her seat and swung it over her shoulder. "If

you can get the crutches, I'm ready."

Flora tucked the crutches in a side pocket of her bag, and then she scooped Cynthia up

in her hands. "Let's see if Rosemary and Chester are in the cafeteria yet."

Cupping Cynthia carefully in her hands close to her chest, Flora carried the mouse

across campus to the dining hall. They got some funny looks, but Flora refused to let them

bother her: Cynthia needed her help! There were big cats and deer here who might not even

notice if they crushed the mouse under paw or hoof. Flora felt a protective instinct toward the

injured little mouse, and she knew if she didn't help her that might mean no one would.

Flora found Chester along with Lance, Becca, and Amber at a large, circular table on the

prey side of the cafeteria. Rosemary had not yet arrived.

"Hi Flora! How did your test go?" Chester queried cheerfully.

"I think it went pretty well," Flora answered. She glanced at Lance and Becca

inquisitively.

"It was all review for me," Lance told her.

"I think maybe I tested out of the first semester," Becca admitted. "But I might not have.

There was a lot I didn't know."

"Who's your friend, Flora?" Chester asked, changing the subject.

Flora blushed, realizing that she'd momentarily almost forgotten the mouse she was

clutching against her chest. "This is Cynthia. Cynthia, these are Chester, Lance, Becca, and

Amber."

"Hi," Cynthia squeaked nervously.

Chester gave the mouse a friendly smile, "Nice to meet you, Cynthia."

"Cynthia has a broken leg, so I'm helping her get around," Flora explained. She sat

Cynthia on the table and removed her bag to drop it on the seat next to Chester. "You can leave

your bag if you want," she told the mouse. "I'll help you go through the line."

Flora carried Cynthia to the meat station and set the mouse on her shoulder by her neck.

"Hold on tight to my fur," Flora cautioned. "Is there anything you wanted from here?"

"N-not really," Cynthia squeaked.

"I had sausage at breakfast, so I think I'll pass too. How about at the plant station? Can

you see?" Flora moved closer to the plant station so that they could see what was there.

"I think I'll just have egg salad," Cynthia piped. "I think they have it at the salad bar."

"That sounds good to me too," Flora decided.

Each station, including the salad bar and pellet and drink dispensers, had four different

levels. Smaller animals queued themselves under the counter of the level above them. Flora

utilized the third level, which was a little high for her with the counter just over her shoulder.

Rabbits and squirrels filed through under this counter, and mice, voles, and shrews used the

shortest level. Large animals used the level situated well above Flora's head. First, Flora

grabbed two pieces of rye bread from the bread box.

"What kind of bread do you want?" she asked Cynthia.

"White is fine."

Flora crouched down but found she couldn't see the mouse-sized counter under the

rabbit-sized counter. "Excuse me," she addressed a chipmunk standing on tiptoes to reach the

second counter.

The chipmunk jerked his head toward her in surprise, "Y-yes?" he squeaked.

"Could you grab a plate and two pieces of white bread for my friend, please?"

Cynthia waved bashfully, and the chipmunk stared at her incredulously, "Erm, alright."

He crouched down under the shorter counter and reappeared a few seconds later with

the bread and plate. Balancing her tray on one arm, Flora took the plate from the chipmunk's

tray between thumb and forefinger and placed it on her own.

"Thank you so much," Flora chirped cheerfully. "Have a nice afternoon."

The chipmunk watched them disconcertedly as she stood then returned to serving

himself. A cottontail rabbit helped get Cynthia some egg salad and followed them to the drink

dispensers to get apple juice for her too. Flora got a glass of ice water.

Finally, they returned to the table, where Rosemary was now also seated with an

enormous mountain goat wearing a charcoal gray duster sitting in a chair a bit to the side.

Becca and Chester looked a little uncomfortable about the much larger mammal's presence.

Flora also felt a bit of trepidation as she approached the table; the fluffy white, horned mammal

was over ten times her size!

"Hi Flora!" Rosemary chirped cheerfully as she approached. "Come say hi to Alex."

Flora paused a couple steps from her seat and smiled up at the mountain goat

nervously, "Hello."

The mountain goat dipped their head in austere acknowledgement.

Flora set her tray and Cynthia on the table with the mouse between her and Chester,

moved her backpack to the floor, and sat down.

"This is Cynthia," Flora introduced the mouse to Rosemary. "Cynthia, this is Rosemary."

"Hey," Rosemary greeted the mouse. To Flora she stated, "Alex and I still need to grab

our lunch. You can tell me how your dinner went when we get back."

Rosemary sprang from her seat, and Alex stood slowly and followed her, clomping away

on their heavy hooves.

"How are they going to eat with us when they're too big for the table?" Becca

complained.

"They could pull another table closer or sit on the floor if there's room," Lance suggested.

"How would you sit with us if I didn't let you sit on my bag?"

The nine ounce stoat, who wasn't even as big as Rosemary, frowned, "It's not as big a

deal if you're smaller. You can even just sit on top of the table like her!" she eyed Cynthia, who

looked uncomfortable at being singled out.

"We could all sit at their table," Flora suggested. "There would be plenty of room then."

"Then we'd all have to sit on the table," Becca groused.

Alex ended up simply holding their tray in their lap. The mountain goat had three short,

thick digits--each tipped with a triangular hoof segment--on each hand, one which served as a

thumb, and they held a rubber-handled fork between this and the next hoof as they shoveled

grass and kale salad into their mouth.

Rosemary, Cynthia, and Alex got introduced with the others. Cynthia, it turned out, was

also from Maplesburg but from a different area of the city than Rosemary, and Alex was from a

small town in Northern Vulpineva, an hour's drive to the West of Willowdale. Few large animals

lived in major cities where the housing prices for them were exorbitant, and even in Willowdale,

Flora hadn't known anyone larger than a lynx.

When they had finished discussing their homes, Rosemary turned her attention to

Flora's roommate predicament. "Alright, so I take it your dinner went badly, but it must not have

been too bad since you didn't need us to rescue you."

"There was no point," Flora replied embarrassedly. "They were all convinced I hate other

predators by that point. I just said I felt sick and got up and left."

"Oof," Rosemary responded sympathetically. "I guess on the bright side they won't want

to eat with you again. Did your roommate say anything?"

"It was my fault I couldn't get along with them, of course," Flora replied sourly. "She also

told me she'd been worried about me when I got back to the room, but I don't buy it. She just

wanted me to feel guilty about something else."

"She sounds like a piece of work," Rosemary commented. "Could you look into getting

another roommate?"

"I guess so. Do you think I should?"

"I would," Rosemary replied bluntly.

Flora sighed resignedly, "I don't suppose I could room with you."

"I don't think they'd let you pick, maybe next year if you still want to."

Lance cut in, "I'm not sure they'll let you change unless you have evidence of physical

abuse. From what I've heard, you've only had arguments. They'll probably want you to stick it

out and learn to get along unless it becomes a detriment to your schoolwork."

"It could be harassment if her roommate won't leave it alone," Rosemary argued.

"It could," Lance agreed. "But if she drops it, then Flora doesn't have much of a case. It's

only been a couple days; I'd wait and see."

"If she brings it up again, I'll ask her to stop, and if she doesn't, then I'll ask for a room

change," Flora decided wearily.

"Do you think they'd let you room with me if they knew you were helping me?" Cynthia

squeaked, having silently listened until now. "Then you wouldn't have to say it was because of

your roommate."

Flora blinked curiously at the little mouse, "Would you want to?"

"It would be easier than for you to come find me everyday. Besides, you won't even fit in

the mouse section of the dorm; you'd have to wait for me to come out."

Flora smiled at the mouse gratefully, "That's a good idea, Cynthia. Thank you."

Cynthia blushed, "You're the one helping me," she murmured embarrassedly.

"Looks like your good karma might pay off after all," Rosemary declared amusedly. "I

wonder if they'll still give you a fox-sized double or put you in a single instead."

"We don't know if they'll let us room together yet," Flora replied embarrassedly.

Rosemary grinned toothily, "I think they will. I just wish I could see your roommate's face

when she finds out what's happened."

Immediately after lunch, Flora carried Cynthia to the Residential Life office. Rosemary

and Chester came along but waited outside.

The bobcat at the front office desk looked up as Flora slipped through the door. They

frowned grumpily as Flora approached the high desk, but Flora forced herself to speak rather

than turning and retreating under the cat's forbidding amber gaze. The oak desk had a counter

in front for visitors to write on, which surrounded the bobcat's working area on three sides. The

entire thing was bobcat-sized, and Flora had to stand on tiptoe to poke her chin over the top.

"I, um, we need a room change," Flora piped hesitantly.

The bobcat looked back down at their monitor, "The form is online if you're having

roommate trouble," they replied boredly.

"It's, um, for a different reason," Flora squeaked. "We need to room together."

The bobcat looked up, "We?" they asked laconically.

Flora carefully placed Cynthia on top of the counter, "Me and her."

The bobcat stared at the two of them, their bored expression shifted to one of interest

and mild incredulity. "The two of you want to room together?" they repeated.

"F-Flora's helping me get around," Cynthia squeaked nervously. "I, um, I broke my leg

before school, and I'm having trouble getting around alone. Flora said she'd help me, but it'll be

harder if she has to come get me whenever I want to leave my room."

"Couldn't someone else help you? Like your current roommate?" the bobcat inquired.

"Flora is the only person who's offered. Besides, my roommate is a vole; she can't help

me the way Flora can. I'm afraid someone might step on me again if I can't move quickly

enough."

The bobcat frowned at Cynthia worriedly, "I see what you mean. It's a bit irregular

though; we room students based on size. You'll have trouble using the facilities in the fox-sized

section of the dorm or even getting in and out of the room."

"I can help her with that," Flora stated.

The bobcat regarded them pensively for a moment. "Are you both sure? It's a lot to take

on, and, uh, one of you is quite a bit larger, and a fox."

"I'm not worried about that," Cynthia replied firmly.

"I'm going to help her either way; this will just make it easier," Flora stated.

The bobcat nodded, "Alright, give me your names, and I'll see what I can do."

"Flora Mason."

"Cynthia Sharpe with an e on the end."

The bobcat turned to their computer, typed in the names, and then clicked around for a

few minutes while Flora and Cynthia watched anxiously. "I don't have any fox-sized singles or

doubles available," the bobcat informed them. "Obviously, Miss Mason won't fit in the mouse-

sized rooms. The best I've got is a rabbit-sized triple, but you might get another roommate at

some point if you take that one." The bobcat looked up and studied Flora for a moment. "You're

not too big, but your ears might brush the door frame."

"That's alright," Flora replied.

"The room is three thirty-seven in Hollow Oak Hall. I'll put in a work order to have the

appropriate furniture transferred. It should be ready in a day or two. You'll get an email when it

is. Once you've moved, let us know so we can cancel your access to your current rooms. Do

you need anything else?"

"I don't think so. Thank you for your help!" Flora piped cheerfully. She plucked Cynthia

off of the desk and exited the building.

"So?" Rosemary asked impatiently as Flora stepped outside.

"We're getting a rabbit-sized triple. It won't be ready for us to move in for a couple days,

but we can manage until then."

"Great! Hey, I saw a cool looking silver maple on the way over here. Do y'all want to

climb up it and chill?"

"If Cynthia's comfortable with it, I will," Flora answered.

"I think I'll be okay," Cynthia squeaked shyly.

"I want to take my bag back to my room first though," Flora added. "I don't want to climb

with it or leave it on the ground for someone to get into."

"Okay, I'll show you the tree, and then you can join us after you drop off your bag."

After seeing which tree Chester and Rosemary were going to climb, Flora took Cynthia

and their bags back to her room, leaving the green and magenta bags on her desk. When they

had returned to the tree, she considered the mouse in her hands.

"I think Rosemary should carry you up the tree; it will be safer," Flora decided.

Cynthia nodded her acceptance, and Flora waved to the black squirrel.

"Rosemary!"

Rosemary crawled down the tree headfirst and looked at them questioningly, still

hanging from the bark with her yellow tartan skirt once again inverted over her torso.

"Can you carry Cynthia up?" Flora requested.

Rosemary jumped down and held out her hands to accept the mouse. While Cynthia

easily fit in Flora's hands and even one of her hands if needed, she overflowed the squirrel's

hands.

"I don't really know how to do this," Rosemary admitted. "I ought to have some sort of

pack."

"Oh, maybe we should think about it and try another day," Flora suggested. She didn't

want Cynthia to be hurt because they hadn't prepared to transport her properly.

"There's a tree I noticed on the way to the exam today that might be nice," Cynthia put

in. "Not for climbing, but the branches hang low, and there's a sheltered space underneath."

"Can you show us where it is?" Rosemary asked.

Cynthia nodded.

Chester climbed down, and then Cynthia directed them to the tree with Flora carrying

her once again. The tree was a white spruce, and as Cynthia had noticed, its lower branches

nearly touched the ground. They crawled underneath and found a comfortable space around the

trunk beneath the lowest branches. The ground was covered with soft, dry needles, and the

entire recess smelled sweetly of evergreen.

"This is nice," Chester remarked. "I could take a nap under here."

"It's nice in a secluded sort of way," Rosemary agreed. "I still prefer the tops of trees."

"It's cozy," Flora added. "Thanks for showing us this place, Cynthia."

Cynthia straightened her whiskers beside Flora embarrassedly, "I'm glad you like it."

They enjoyed the quiet seclusion of the shady enclosure for some minutes before

Rosemary asked, "Do you feel weird at all having Flora carry you, Cynthia?"

Cynthia glanced at Flora before turning toward the squirrel embarrassedly, "A little. It's a

bit embarrassing, but I really appreciate it. I've been anxious about getting around, and I feel

relieved now that I have help."

"I assume she was the one who offered," Rosemary remarked.

Cynthia nodded, "I wouldn't have been able to ask even after she helped me," she

murmured self-consciously.

"I think I'd feel a little weird about letting a predator carry me," Rosemary commented. "It

would be weird letting anyone carry me but even weirder if they were a predator."

Flora thought she understood where Rosemary was coming from, and while the

squirrel's comment made her feel a little awkward, she didn't protest. It made sense that

Rosemary might feel some instinctive apprehension against letting a carnivore pick her up.

However, Cynthia didn't take it as well.

"Flora's a carnivore, but she's not a predator!" the mouse squeaked indignantly. "I

walked by lots of prey, and no one offered to help me until Flora did! She's a good person who

just happens to be a fox!"

Rosemary blinked at the upset mouse, momentarily nonplussed. "I get what you mean,"

she offered conciliatorily. "I didn't mean any offense. I'm not sure it's an offensive term though,

at least not anymore than 'prey' is. Maybe it would be better if we could forget which species

predator society excluded so they could eat them, but it really wasn't that long ago."

"I appreciate your concern, Cynthia," Flora added embarrassedly. "But I agree with

Rosemary; I am a fox. That doesn't mean I don't genuinely want to help you."

"There aren't good and bad species," Rosemary explained. "There are only people with

more power to exploit and hurt others, and sometimes species is a factor in that."

"Except, like, fleas and mosquitoes," Chester chirped flippantly. "Fuck those parasites!"

Rosemary looked at the tabby incedulously, and he winked roguishly. The squirrel rolled

her eyes but smirked.

"I think we agree," Rosemary told Cynthia. "I'm sorry if what I said made you think I was

insulting you or Flora. I'm glad things worked out for the two of you."

Cynthia looked down embarrassedly, "Maybe I do feel a little uncomfortable about it,"

she murmured. "But Flora's so nice, so I know I'm wrong!"

"I understand," Flora consoled. "And I don't blame you for being a little apprehensive. I'm

sure I would be if someone so much bigger wanted to pick me up no matter what species they

were."

Cynthia looked up at her with a glint of determination in her dark eyes, "I trust you,

Flora," she averred. "I'll get over my discomfort."

Flora smiled down at her warmly, "I'm sure you will."

Chester flopped over onto his back and wriggled playfully in the spruce needles. "We

always have the most intense discussions," he remarked amusedly. "Doesn't anyone want to

just take a nap?"

Rosemary leaned over and ruffled his beige and black belly fur with one hand. "You're a

doof," she scolded affectionately.

Chester grinned toothily, his golden eyes twinkling with amusement, "I hope so.

Someone has to lighten the mood."

Flora smiled at the tom appreciatively. Perhaps Chester was right; they didn't need to

dwell so heavily on their angst. With her room with Cynthia secured, Flora could see a fun and

exciting year ahead of her. That was supposed to be part of college too: learning and gaining

new perspectives but also having fun and enjoying themselves. She'd already made friends,

and she knew there must be many other friendly people here. She wasn't alone like she'd felt

when her parents had left.

"I could take a nap," Flora remarked cheerfully. "I don't have any more exams to study

for. I don't think there's anything I need to do until the welcome seminars on Thursday."

"I'm done too," Cynthia responded.

"Do all of you want to take a nap then?" Rosemary asked with mock exasperation.

Chester grinned teasingly, "Looks like you're outnumbered, squirrelie."

Flora turned and flopped over as well. Rolling onto her side, her eyes met Chester's

golden eyes around the trunk of the spruce. He smiled affably, and she felt her ears get a bit

warm. She smiled back embarrassedly but lifted her head as she felt Cynthia snuggling herself

into her belly fur. Flora wrapped her bushy tail over her legs and tucked it over the little mouse

before laying her head back down. She smiled warmly at Chester, content that she had a place

at this college and friends to share the experience with. She closed her eyes and soon dozed

off.

Flora wasn't sure what time it was when she awoke, but she was feeling a bit hungry,

indicating that it may have been getting close to dinner. Cynthia was still snuggled against her

belly, and when she pushed herself up on one arm to see around the trunk, she saw Rosemary

was lying on her back with her head propped against Chester's abdomen. Cynthia stirred beside

her, and Flora pulled away her concealing tail.

"Were you comfortable?" Flora murmured softly.

Cynthia smiled bashfully and nodded. "You didn't mind, did you?" she whispered.

Flora shook her head. She sat up fully, scooping Cynthia onto her right thigh, when she

heard a yawn and saw Chester stretching on the other side of the tree. He rolled onto his back,

causing Rosemary to flop onto the needle cushion where her dark eyes popped open. Chester

sat up and grinned down at the squirrel before booping her nose with a finger.

"Did you like your pillow?" he queried good-humoredly.

"I did until it moved without warning," Rosemary groused.

"That's a risk you take," he quipped.

Flora slipped her cell out of its holster to check the time, "It's six fifteen!" she yelped. "We

slept the whole afternoon!"

Chester yawned again, stretching languidly, then smiled amusedly, "So? We didn't have

anything else to do."

True as that may have been, Flora was still dismayed; she felt she should have done

something!

Still seated on Flora's leg, Cynthia piped, "It was nice. We should do it again sometime."

"Is anyone else, like, famished?" Chester yowled. "I'm surprised Rosemary wasn't the

first up; my stomach is growling!"

"We haven't done anything since lunch, you lump," Rosemary admonished.

Chester glowered down at the squirrel grimly, "Imagine such callousness toward a

starving friend," he muttered with mock gravity. "What will you lie on when I'm skin and bone?"

"I'll have to have your pelt stuffed, I suppose," Rosemary sallied. "That is unless you can

manage the walk to the cafeteria."

"I'm hungry too," Flora interrupted the pair's increasingly absurd banter. "Let's go."

They crawled out from under the spruce and were just stepping back onto the brick

sidewalk when a fox yelped, "Flora?! Is that you?!"

Flora jerked her head toward the voice and spotted Moxie a few steps down the

sidewalk to her right.

The swift fox bounded forward, "It is you! Were you under that tree?!" she asked

incredulously. "What were you doing under there?"

"We, um, were taking a nap," Flora admitted embarrassedly.

Moxie eyed Rosemary and Chester in surprise, "All of you?"

"Cynthia and I were tired after our exam this morning," Flora murmured lamely. Did

Moxie think they'd been doing something besides sleeping? Flora felt her ears getting warm.

Moxie thrust out her hand to Rosemary, who stood as high as the small fox's lower

chest. Flora noted that Moxie was a head shorter than Chester, who was a couple of finger

widths shorter than herself.

"Hi Cynthia, I'm Moxie," Moxie introduced herself.

"My name's Rosemary," Rosemary corrected. She nodded toward Cynthia cupped

against Flora's chest and then Chester. "That's Cynthia, and this is Chester."

Moxie looked toward Flora in confusion, and Flora tilted her hands so that the vixen

could see Cynthia more easily.

"Hi," Cynthia squeaked shyly.

Moxie's hazel eyes widened at the sight of the little mouse.

"We were going to dinner. Did you want to come?" Flora offered before Moxie could ask

any more questions about the mouse.

"Er, I just ate, sorry," Moxie returned distractedly, her eyes still focused on Cynthia.

"Were-"

"You should join us sometime," Flora cut her off. "Are things going alright with Stella?"

Moxie looked up from Cynthia to meet Flora's gaze and smiled genially, "Yeah, I'll see if

Stella wants to come too. I know the others were a little hard on you the other day, but Stella's

nice. We've been getting along great."

"That's good. Let's catch up again tomorrow, and you can let me know what she said."

"Alright, see you around!" Moxie turned around and strolled away.

Flora and the others went the opposite direction toward the cafeteria.

"Was that one of the foxes you ate with last night?" Rosemary asked after a moment.

"Yeah, she seemed nicer than the others though," Flora replied.

"What about 'Stella'?"

Flora flicked an ear awkwardly, "Er, well, she didn't seem too bad. I didn't really talk to

her."

They made their way to the cafeteria, and Flora once again took Cynthia to get her food.

Rosemary followed because she was actually small enough to reach the mouse-sized counter.

First, Flora stopped by the meat station: they were having burgers, hotdogs, and fries along with

what appeared to be barbecued pulled pork. Flora decided the latter looked good and stepped

into the line. She grabbed a bun and was just about to pile it with meat when her eyes caught

the label: 'Barbecued Rabbit'. Flora's heart instantly dropped into stomach, and she felt like she

might throw up. Gingerly, she used the tongs to put back her bun.

"Y-you didn't want anything here, did you?" she asked Cynthia uncomfortably.

"No."

Flora stepped out of the meat line and over to the vegetable station where she and

Cynthia both got fried tofu, white rice, and sautéed brussel sprouts. Cynthia's brussel sprouts

were chopped into eighths and smaller. Cynthia also got a small salad with feta and a sweet

vinaigrette, and they both got ice water. The three girls found Chester already at a table with

Lance and Amber. As they sat down, Flora noticed disconcertedly that the tabby had gotten the

barbecued rabbit.

"You really take the omnivore thing to heart, huh?" Chester remarked curiously. "Do you

only eat meat once a day, Flora?"

"Once or twice," Flora remarked uncomfortably. "I didn't know they made rabbit; it

surprised me."

Chester blinked his golden eyes at her in confusion, "You've never seen it before? I think

it's pretty common. I guess beef, pork, and turkey are the favorites, but they make all kinds."

"I've only seen those and a few others, like mutton and venison," Flora admitted.

"Willowdale has a lot of rabbits," Lance pointed out. "Maybe they don't like to sell small

mammal meats."

"I guess, but they're all the same really," Chester responded. "It's all cultured in vats."

"I wouldn't want to know what rabbit tastes like!" Flora blurted out in distress. "Most of

my friends are rabbits!"

Chester regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and surprise. "Huh, I've never really

thought of that." He glanced at Cynthia, Rosemary, and Amber, "I've had squirrel and mouse

both."

"Fox squirrel or gray squirrel?" Amber asked.

Chester shrugged, "They don't specify that. You know, for all I know, none of it tastes

like the real thing. How would anyone know these days?"

"Do they make cat?" Amber asked.

"I've never seen it."

"That doesn't seem fair," Rosemary declared. "What if I want to know what kitties taste

like?"

"It's not actually legal," Lance informed them. "Have any of you heard of the Peatsburg

Massacre?"

Flora, Chester, and Rosemary nodded.

"Do you know what led up to it?" Lance questioned.

No one nodded.

"Chester?" Lance probed.

"It happened because dogs can't control themselves," Chester replied sourly.

Flora regarded the tabby concernedly. Was there something about this historical event

that made the easy-going cat uncomfortable?

"I suppose that's how a cat would describe it," Lance acknowledged. "It started soon

after the illegalization of predation. A Peatsburg meat factory run by dogs started producing cat

meat. No one really knows how they got the starting material, but it became very popular among

the canine population. Cats weren't happy, but there were other meat factories. And they simply

boycotted the offending one."

"The trouble really started when King Philip issued the Meat Purity Decree. There had

been some concern in other cities about unknown meat cultures being sold, and carnivores

were worried about engaging in symbolic cannibalism. The decree ordered that the origin of all

meat cultures be genetically verified and products be labeled appropriately. Well, when the cat

meat was genetically sequenced, it was found to actually be of canine origin."

"The riots began almost immediately. Dogs claimed that the incident was the result of a

feline plot, and several cat-owned businesses were burned. Many cats fled the city or took

refuge in local temples. On the third day of the riots, an army platoon, largely composed of felids

and mustelids and led by the red fox lieutenant Charles Graf, arrived to quell the riots. The

rioters engaged the platoon, and Graf ordered the soldiers to fire on them. Twenty-seven dogs

were killed. Graf then had the offending meat factory razed. Afterward, King Philip updated the

Meat Purity Decree to state that all meat must be of prey origin, and that's been the law ever

since."

"That sounds about right," Rosemary remarked dryly when the history lesson was done.

"It's illegal because predators put up a fuss over something prey just have to accept."

"Cats didn't put up a fuss!" Chester protested. "They were the victims! For all we know,

the owner of the factory knew it was dog meat the whole time!"

"Wouldn't they have falsified the test then?" Amber suggested.

"They might have known the jig was up and blamed cats to turn their customers against

them instead," Chester argued. "If they'd gotten the cells from a specific cat, they would have

had a clearer target."

"Or maybe it really was a 'feline plot'," Rosemary sallied. "Maybe the cats were all

twitching their whiskers while they watched the dogs eat dog meat."

"If it was, then the dogs deserved it," Chester replied. "You'll notice it wasn't cats who

wanted to eat dog."

"What's the difference if it's all grown in vats?" Rosemary rejoined amusedly.

"It just shows that dogs are jerks," Chester replied snippily. "They have no manners."

"Have you noticed there aren't any here?" Flora asked awkwardly. She knew cats and

dogs often disagreed, but she felt awkward as a canid--though not a canine--herself.

"That's because red foxes hate them," Chester replied. "The capital of Vulpineva is

called Wolfsbane for a reason!"

Flora nodded in acknowledgement of this common knowledge. Wolves had once

attempted to overthrow the Vulpinevan monarchy, believing themselves more worthy rulers than

the diminutive red foxes. The revolt had ultimately failed because the wolves were unable to

recruit other species away from the silver-tongued vulpines. The allied forces had expelled the

wolf militia from the capital then surrounded them before slaughtering them without quarter at

the command of the vengeful King Ferdinand. The capital was renamed from Foxglove soon

after. Dogs, who were the result of eugenics experiments gone horribly wrong (or right

depending on your perspective), were the direct descendents of wolves and thus also loathed

by red foxes. Why coyotes and other canine species were caught up in their ire was less clear.

Flora collected her glass, utensils, and napkin onto her tray, having finished her meal.

She eyed the empty spot on Chester's plate where his sandwich had been. "I still don't want to

try it," she decided. "I don't want to try anything that might taste like one of my friends."

Chester offered her a charming smile, "That's your decision, and I respect it."

"What if you met a pig or turkey?" Rosemary queried.

Flora frowned uncomfortably, "I guess it would already be too late then, but I prefer not

to know."

"I don't think any prey really cares either way," Rosemary commented. "Like Chester

said, it isn't real, but if it makes you uncomfortable, then of course you should do what you think

is best so long as it doesn't compromise your health."

"It won't," Flora assured her. "I'll eat the ones I'm already used to. I guess they're the