Serval and Sheep (Chapter 13)
The long-awaited day of Lupercalia arrives.
Desmond had never enjoyed Lupercalia, even in elementary school. Something about a holiday that promoted PDA, reckless spending and tacky decor irked him to his marrow. It's not really about love, it's about artificiality, maintaining appearances, quick fixes to maintain the illusion of love. A holiday of pretense. And Desmond despises pretense.
He's not surprised Hafsa enjoys it. What better for an attention-seeking carnie than a holiday that rewards her charming act of innocence?
At least there's free candy. Being a hit with the ladies pays off in the strangest ways sometimes. As the final week of the god-awful Lupercalia hype marches on, Desmond secretly mourns the end of the sugary deluge that had been fattening his belly for the past few days.
During lunchtime, he awaits the delivery of his next batch of loot. Out the corner of his eye, he recognizes the bright plumage of the macaw volunteer.
"Sheep Desmond!" He calls, reaching in his mailbag for the goods. "Vice President, here are your candy grams for the day!"
The rams seated around him whistle and laugh. "The delivery guy already knows you!" Marcel cackles.
"Mr. Popular, as always!" Peter slaps the Jacob sheep hard on the back.
The macaw awkwardly sets the pile of cards and candy next to Desmond's lunch tray, gives a curt nod, and toddles off to his next delivery.
Desmond ignores the loud bleating of his tablemates and flips through the stack of cards briefly, revealing flashes of female names, cursive handwriting and drawn hearts. Same as yesterday. The last card, however, catches his eye.
A simple white card. Neat, black, obviously female calligraphy stands out against the blank background.
"Thank you for your honesty. I hope I can pay you back with mine."
Taped to the lower right corner of the paper is a small sprig of white chrysanthemums, the kind that grows in the school garden.
At the end of the day, Desmond sorts through the haul at his desk. He stows the candy for later, throwing the card in his trash bin. He stares at the last one for a while.
I suppose it's fine to hang on to this a while more.
Hafsa had received 52 candy grams, 25 notes stuffed in her locker, and turned down 14 males' confessions by Thursday. As expected, a new record. She was grateful for the much-needed the ego boost considering the disastrous start of her year, but all throughout the week, her mind was fogged by thoughts of Solomon to truly appreciate the holidays.
His candy gram was harmless and professional, as expected of him. A pink card with "Thank you for your diligence" written on it with his immaculate penmanship and a cat grass hard candy attached. She had thanked him politely, laughed about the same choice of candy for both of their gifts and nothing more. Reluctantly, she was forced to accept the alleged rumor of his interest in her as nothing more than the usual meaningless scuttlebutt.
Which is definitely for the best, she concluded. The last thing she needs is even more chances to screw up. And a public relationship with her secretary is perfect fodder for screwing up.
Brian's gram was sweet and heart-warming. With his help, she deciphered the messy hand-writing on the card to read "Thank you for being a wonderful president and friend! Happy Lupercalia!", followed by a crude drawing of the four student council members. Desmond, naturally, didn't send anyone a card, but Hafsa was relieved he didn't seem to take offense with her sending one, or at least didn't express it.
The dawn of the 14th arrives, and with it, the coveted end to this anxiety-inducing season. One more shipment of candy, one more lightning-round of confession rejections, one more event to monitor, and it's done.
Classes pass by uneventfully, as its obvious even teachers are eager to spend time with their loved ones. Student council however, still has work to do even after the dismissal bell rings.
In the Emzara building, the four members sit idly at the office lounge, looking over the final preparations over tea.
"The volunteers should be setting up the lawn right now," Solomon notes. "Perhaps I should go over there and make sure things are alright."
"You should have more faith in them, Sol." Brian says while pouring his second cup. "It's only some beanbags and some lights."
Solomon gets up gracefully. "That's why I wouldn't put you in charge." He playfully bonks the pigeon's head while passing him.
"I'll be keeping an eye on them. You should join me at 5." The caracal waves and strides out the door.
Brian chuckles. "Always the perfectionist." Desmond only offers an eye roll.
"Ah!" Exclaims Hafsa suddenly. Her two herbivore companions jolt up sharply. "I nearly forgot!"
The cat reaches for her schoolbag and pulls out a plastic bag filled to the brim with a colorful array of candies.
"I ended up receiving too much candy from the grams this year..." She giggles, extending her arm out to Brian. "I know you have younger siblings, so I thought they might enjoy them. You visit them every weekend, right?"
Brian's small beady eyes widen in surprise. "You'd really give all this candy to me?"
"Of course!" Hafsa smiles warmly. "There's no way I can eat that much! Oh, and don't worry, I gave all the carnie candy to my roommate."
In a flash, Brian pounces towards Hafsa and envelops her in a tight yet soft hug. After a few seconds of surprise, she returns the embrace. Desmond looks on, unsure of what's grosser: the soppy display of affection or the fact that Hafsa is clearly drooling through her wide smile.
After what seems to him like eons, the two friends untangle from each other, leaving Brian to admire the massive bag of sweets.
"You must have gotten a gram from every animal in the school! There's like a hundred of them!" He remarks in admiration.
"Hardly," she says, waving her hands shyly. "Only 74... I got a lot of last-minute ones today..."
The serval turns to the sheep sitting opposite to her. "What about you, Desmond? I overheard a lot of ewes saying they were gonna send you some!"
"I gave them to my teammates." He dismisses.
In reality, he had eaten all of them and spent the entire last night awake with indigestion. But he wasn't going to say that.
5pm sneaks up on them quickly amidst the chitchat. The sky begins to blush a romantic shade of peach, painting the wooden floors pink. The trio begins making their way out the building, taking in the cool evening breeze.
"It was a great idea to hold a stargazing event for Lupercalia." Hafsa comments. "It's easy to organize, romantic, and low-budget."
"Solomon suggested it last year and we're sticking with it." Brian explains. "Since it's Solomon's idea, of course it's also based on the original folklore of Lupercalia."
"Go figure." Hafsa jokes.
"They say the celebration is held today because the Lupus constellation is in its best view. So, naturally, it gives couples a chance to admire it together." The pigeon elaborates.
As they approach the lawn, they notice the setup for the event. Blankets, cushions and beanbags have been evenly positioned across the grass, illuminated by small heart-shaped lanterns. Strings of fairy lights and pink streamers hang from the nearby tree branches, imitating the twinkling of the faint stars in the rosy sky above.
Solomon stands at the foot of a grand sycamore, discussing something with a fox student. Brian waves at him with enough vigor to catch his (and everyone else's) attention.
"It looks great!" He chirps. "Just like you to turn fifty bucks worth of decorations into a hundred!"
Solomon grins. "I'm glad you're suitably impressed. Let's hope the other students will enjoy it."
He stares out at the scene, satisfied. "Leave your bags here and take out your phones. We still have a while before animals arrive, so we can take a good look around to make sure everything's all set."
The group nods and approaches the tree to leave behind their bags. Hafsa fishes for her phone in the small inner pocket, but feels something with a different texture and size altogether. Curious, she takes it out to inspect.
A carnie energy bar, strawberry flavored. It's from a different brand she usually gets, too. Taped to the bar is a small note, folded up tight. She opens it out to reveal a creased notebook paper, mostly blank save for the very top.
In slanted blue writing, it read "Thank you for the flower. Send candy next time."
Hafsa bites down on her tongue hard to hold back a fit of laughter.
The sky's flushed reds cool into a rich indigo, revealing the bright shimmering of the stars. The faint rustling of the trees and chirping of crickets fill the air with a refreshing calmness. Hafsa couldn't have asked for a better Lupercalia night.
The volunteers had been praised, thanked and dismissed an hour ago, free to enjoy their evening. That leaves only the four student council members to monitor the stargazing grounds for the remainder of the night. With nothing much to do before the event itself, which was to commence at 7pm, the quad of animals take turn aimlessly patrolling the area and resting by the sycamore, now dubbed the home base.
Somehow, Hafsa and Desmond wind up plodding around together while Brian and Solomon take a snack break.
"Nice night, huh?" Hafsa remarks, trying to prevent the silence between them from becoming awkward.
"Bit chilly." He replies as nonchalantly as he can (which is not very). "Maybe we should get some blankets for the stargazing."
"Really? I don't think it's that cold, and my fur is shorter than yours."
"That's probably a carnie thing. Hotter blood or something."
Hafsa's ears flatten. "Or Mr. Sheepy gets chilly without his fluffy winter fleece."
"It's rude to comment on a sheep's wool."
"It's even ruder to comment on a serval's blood."
Desmond smirks. "To be fair, the serval blood's owner started it." His snickers are cut short by a gust of wind, which send a visible shiver down his spine.
Hafsa stares at him and sighs in exasperation. "Good grief." She stops walking and takes off her sweater in that one fluid motion only females seem to know how to do.
"Put this on. But if you poke a hole in it with your horns, I'll never forgive you."
Desmond blinks. "Uh, usually it's the male who offers to the female..."
"Which makes this all the more embarrassing for me. Just take it."
Strangely enough, Desmond doesn't feel like arguing. He takes the sweater and delicately puts it on, careful not to tear through it. Luckily, the fabric is fairly stretchy.
"Aw, you look cute in pink." Hafsa simpers. "At least you're dressed for the occasion now."
Desmond rubs his stomach blankly, feeling the soft material of the sweater. It's still warm from her wearing it. And the smell... It feels like he's being hugged. He suddenly feels like playing dead.
"It's made of wool, you know. Does that make it more or less weird for you--" Hafsa's banter is cut short. Her ears swivel, pointing behind her, where a distant wall of trees loom. She snaps to attention and turns to leer at the murky forest.
The two stay silent, with nothing but the whispered rustling of leaves and cricket chirps keeping them company.
"What's wrong?" Desmond asks after a while.
Hafsa doesn't move, eyes and ears still locked on the faraway foliage. "Nothing."
Slowly, she turns back to Desmond. Her sharp eyes soften back to their friendly roundness and her ears droop back ever so slightly. "It was nothing!" She reassures cheerfully.
Desmond's brain is officially fried. Too many confusing moves on the serval's part has left him as lost as a frog in the desert. He opts for the first thought to relieve him of this agony.
"Let's go back to the others."
At last, 7pm arrives, and soon after, animals emerge from the darkness to enjoy the long-awaited stargazing. The four student council members greet and accompany them to their seats, as well as handing them a small map of the stars so that the couple may properly navigate in the night sky.
There is a quiet excitement that sizzles in the air; the sparks of young lovers who finally have an excuse to snuggle up close together. Whisperings and giggles overpower the night breeze.
Soon, all couples are seated, and the student council spreads out, each monitoring a section of the lawn. It's simple patrol work, more of a formality than anything. Apart from having to occasionally break up a pair that gets too... handsy, there is not much to it.
Hafsa internally congratulates herself on the event's success while roaming the area. While she admits its preemptive, she's overwhelmed by a sense of satisfaction from the success of the first major event under her leadership. The decor is truly spectacular even if it is minimalist. After all, the stars are the greatest attraction, and she didn't need to prepare them. But really, Solomon should get the most credit.
She searches for him in the field of twinkling lights and nestled couples. Finally, she spots him standing under the home base tree.
Against her better judgement, she goes to him. He doesn't move when she settles by his side, but offers a warm smile.
"It turned out rather nicely, no?" He asks softly.
"Spectacularly. Everyone's having a lot of fun." She replies. "It's all thanks to you."
The caracal chuckles. "I simply came up with the idea a year ago. What matters is the execution. And we have you to thank for that, Ms. President."
"Hafsa." She corrected.
"Hafsa."
They look up at the sky. At that moment, Hafsa understands why, thousands of years ago, some animals decided to celebrate under this sky. She dares to glance over at Solomon. She notices how sharp and angular a caracal's face is, be it the brow, nose bridge or cheeks. A good look for a feline. His gaze remains locked on the stars above, which reflect wonderfully in his long-lashed eyes. Even now, his face betrays nothing except tranquility and confidence.
Oh no, he's gorgeous.
"I don't know much about constellations." She fumbles for conversation.
"Really?" His peers down at her. "If you'd like, I'd be more than happy to point some out... later."
"Later?"
"If I start now..." He murmurs. "I'm afraid I'd get carried away and talk your ear off all night."
Hafsa smiles nervously. "I-I wouldn't mind that."
Solomon turns to her, his eyes filled with a strange intensity. "Even a caracal like me knows when to stay quiet and keep some moments special."
"Solo--"
A bloodcurdling scream pierces through her words. The two felines whip their heads back towards the lawn and desperately sprint to the source, somewhere near the northeastern edges of the lawn.
They arrive, pushing through the commotion of perplexed couples wandering around to investigate. A Ryeland ewe, trembling and horrorstruck. Her panicked eyes are glued to the distant tangle of trees.
"What's wrong?!" Hafsa calls out.
"I-Isaac... He th-thought he s-sa-saw something-ing ov-over there..." She points a trembling finger to a patch of grass only a few steps to her right. "A-And then... S-something came out of n-n-nowh-where... And took h-him away... S-so fast..." The small ewe begins to sob heavily, burying her face in her hands. "Isaac..."
"Which way did they go?!" Desmond suddenly demands, shoving the crowd aside.
The girl points towards the inky thicket, the same one that had caught Hafsa's eye not too long ago.
"I'm on it!" The sheep yells as he bolts towards the trees.
"Desmond, wait!" Hafsa cries out, only to be ignored.
"Round everyone up, escort them to their dorms, alert the faculty. Quick." Solomon's voice instructs her in a severity that is entirely new to her. "I'll go after him."
The caracal becomes a blur as he races past her. With long strides, he catches up with the sheep at a frightening speed.
Hafsa should have never congratulated herself. She should have never thought her bad luck streak had ended, or that things were finally turning around for her. This is what happens when she dares to think she could ever have it easy.
Lupercalia is supposed to be the holiday of love. But, it is also a holiday made by carnivores. And everything a carnivore makes will be stained with blood.