No, please, just a little farther. A little farther, and the last delivery's done. Please don't…crap.

Wintry 3's treads finally gave out three blocks from Koslov's back entrance. I rapped my forehead against the steering wheel. Alex owed me big for this. Well, I couldn't keep the good ursines waiting. At least this last delivery was only twelve boxes…a little taller than myself. But that'd hardly stop such a dedicated delivery skunk. Now if only Preston would hire mammals larger than wolves. And not sign on to transfer all Tundratown purchases into these stupid things.

Reluctantly shutting off the heater, I slipped on my jacket with the waterproof clipboard tucked inside, stepped out of the cab, and immediately sank up to my waist. I slogged through to the back doors and dragged out the emergency sledge. It was almost like my boss knew this would happen. I carefully shoved six boxes onto the awaiting sledge and tied them down. So began the walk to Koslov's, one sunken footstep at a time.

A polar bear in dark blue greeted me at the back door, which was thankfully clear. I shook off snow clinging to my legs while he quickly unloaded. He watched as I slogged back to the Wintry for the rest. And slipped halfway back on a buried chunk of ice, nearly overturning the sledge and falling flat on my face. I pushed myself up, coughed water, and considered what Alex would have to do to make this up to me.

Once I finally reached the back door, the bear nodded approvingly. "Your dedication is admirable."

I shivered and tried to keep the clipboard from sliding between my fingers. "Thank you, sir." Despite the dull burn across my stomach, I smiled back.

He unloaded the remaining boxes, made the necessary signatures, and passed the check. I sealed it with the others in the protective baggie and bade him a good day. The bear held up his paw. I nearly jumped as he lifted me onto his shoulder and hauled the sledge back to the Wintry. The bear hefted it into the back with one paw and lowered me before the driver's door with the other. He glared at the treads. "This is a bad rental."

"I'll let my boss know. Thank you."

The bear smiled again. "My pleasure. Do you require further assistance?"

"No, I'll be fine. Thank you again."

He departed with another nod. I clambered into the Wintry's cab and clicked on the CB. "Nutra-Lyfe, this is Tyler. Wintry 3's treads finally gave out. Stranded three blocks from Koslov's. Made the final delivery with the sledge."

Stacy sighed. "Roger that. I knew 3 was gonna wear out sooner or later."

"One of Koslov's employees recommends we rent something better."

The stoat giggled. "I'll make sure Preston gets the memo. Alex just got in a few minutes ago. Should be there in fifteen. Stay warm."

"Gracías."

I sucked in a deep breath. Guess the wolf made it to work after all. No, that was unfair. He was pretty sick, earlier. I leaned into the seat and winced when my stiff tail peeled off my back. In the rearview mirror, two arctic foxes clawed at the snow piling an overturned snowmobile a block back. It'd be fifteen minutes. I stepped outside and trudged over. "Hey, looks like you could use some help."

The arctic foxes paused between heavy breaths. The one to the left, decked in dark blue, blew on his fingers. "Thanks. Edmund can't steer worth a damn."

Edmund grunted. "Says the guy who wouldn't just rent a Wintry model."

"Their treads suck," his associate retorted.

I gestured over my shoulder. "I can vouch for that." I stretched my fingers and dug as deep into the snow as I could. Large chunks scraped against my pads. I dug a little deeper, clearing away enough to reveal the UMAHA painted above the headlights. My arms flared. I sighed and tucked my paws under my armpits. "Sorry, guys. I had to run a sledge."

"Is cool. We got some friends coming. Thanks, anyway." Edmund's friend regarded my neck. "Oh, you got…" He tapped a claw against his collarbone.

I choked back an annoyed growl and politely smiled. "Yeah, I've got an arrowhead."

Edmund swatted his friend's shoulder. "You're not supposed to talk about those, Steve."

The other arctic fox raised his paws defensively. "Sorry, I was just asking."

"It's okay, guys. I gotta get back. Got a coworker coming. Have a nice day."

They waved and resumed digging out the Umaha. I rubbed my paws down my legs. My tail once again caught on my back. I shook it off and slid into the cab. Silver glinted on the rearview. I pinched the chain and held the metal tag. That fox wasn't trying to be a jerk. I sighed and tucked it back under my shirt collar.

A Nutra-Lyfe cruiser pulled up a few minutes later, fitted with a road cone orange plow. Alex stepped out, cracking a sneeze into the cold air. I stepped out of the cab with the clipboard and Wintry keys. "Hey, good to see you."

"Thanks. Stacy said the stupid treads went out on ya." The tan wolf surveyed the wear-and-tear on the left set. "We should leave it in the shop for a while." He sneezed again.

"So long as Preston doesn't make us walk the snowier routes."

Alex frowned. "I'm sorry. I really should've been there, but I couldn't walk without a splitting headache."

I raised my paw. "Don't worry about it. You're getting me out of here. We're even."

Still, he lifted me into the air and inspected my feet. "Still sorry, Ty. She says you ran the last bit in the sledge."

"Yep, and my arms and stomach still wanna kill me. Should I just lock up?"

"Yeah, I'll get the back. Preston was phoning FrigiCare to come get it." He gave me an appreciative smile. "You're quite the little badass."

"I try. For my paycheck, and to not anger clients who could literally shake the crap out of me."

I locked up the Wintry and slogged to the cruiser. Alex locked up the back and easily strode back to the driver's side. If only my ancestors had been as accustomed to marching through snow. He radioed to Stacy and winked at me. I shrugged and closed my eyes.

Back in Savannah Central, I spent the last hour-and-a-half checking over stock. I could still hear Preston going on about "Predator Pride", clapping my back and attempting a Lionheart-esque speech about determination. Right now, I just felt like crawling into a hot shower. Alex cleaned up outside, once again apologizing for leaving me alone on that run. And I once again told him we were even.

After thanking everyone for their help, I strolled back to my apartment. Stripping down for that hot shower, I examined the arrowhead. That fox was hardly the first mammal to ask. Granted, the arrowhead should've tipped him off, but with such delinquent skunks refusing the De-Scent Initiative, I suppose one couldn't be too careful. I shook my head and climbed inside.

Showered and dried off, my no longer burning stomach growled. After the three-block sledge run in waist-high snow, I think I earned a little something special. A sun-faded Viola Manchas smiled from the Misty's flyer taped to the fridge. Been a while since I was last there. Irony. Getting out of one soaked biome, just to go into another. At least I remembered my umbrella this time.

Choosing a dark red shirt and jeans for the occasion, I caught a 6:00 Tranzit to The Rainforest District. The hourly downpour began a few seconds after I stepped out of Selva Cruz Memorial Station. A deer shot cycled by, splashing water all over the front steps. I waited. When no other cyclist darted through, I continued my way to Misty's, my footsteps seemingly in synch with the drops tapping the umbrella's yellow skin.

Ah, Misty's on the Vine, with its carved stone walls, 24-Hour Countertop Service, and domed dining area for those wishing to escape the rain. I closed my umbrella, brushed my foot on the mudmat, and reached for the glass door. It flung open, ejecting a laughing, not-yet-maned lion. I quickly slid inside.

A mixed soccer team of jaguars and ocelots lined the main counter, laughing and knocking over thankfully plastic glasses of Raina Cola. I took my usual seat, three booths to the door's right. One of the ocelots shot me a worried look. I flicked the arrowhead. He laughed nervously and quickly resumed joking to his teammates about weak kicks.

Viola spotted me, a slightly-battered menu between her paws. "Tyler, ¿Comó estás?"

"Frío. Mucho frío." I clattered my teeth and gripped my arms.

The black jaguar snickered and leaned against the vacant seat. "Rough day?"

I brushed my forehead. "Eh, I got my exercise. Hauled produce through waist-high snow. Does wonders for the leg muscles." I stretched my right leg for emphasis. "¿Qué pasá hoy?"

She set the menu down. "A couple tigers started a mudslinging fight, but ran off when Renato came in for his coffee. Thank God he showed up before they did any real damage. ¿Quieres tu usual?"

"Dáme dos más minutos, por favor. Después la mierda, necesito alga especial."

Viola nodded and placed a water glass. "Hay una nueva torta, la PB Exotica, an overglorified PB&J. Para tu consideración." She paced down to a distant booth, where a wolf called for her.

Preen's "We Will Rock You" cracked over the PA. The mixed team rhythmically slapped their paws against the counter. Someone groaned. At the booth to my right, a ewe buried her face into her hooves, nearly pushing her glasses over the side. Down the way, Viola glared at the team. They wisely stopped following the beat. The sheep took a deep breath. "It's okay. I'm sure he has a good reason."

I lowered my menu. "Are you all right?"

She dropped her hooves and pushed a weak smile. "Oh, I'm fine, just fine." She propped her glasses back onto her muzzle. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm…" Ahead of us, the team followed along to the opening of "We Are the Champions". She clutched her forehead. "Damn it, Leodore."

"If they climb the countertop and dance, Viola'll throw 'em out."

The sheep smiled a little stronger. "She deserves a big tip if she does that." Her smile immediately fell. "Leodore's PR agent said to meet here. But I'm sure they wandered off to that bar in Sahara Square."

"Leodore sounds like an asshole."

She sucked in a deep breath. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." I returned to the menu. The PB Exotica Viola mentioned sat atop an adobe red plate surrounded by raspberries and strawberries. Looked nice for an overglorified PB&J. Across was that honored House Special, The District Veggie Pizza.

I looked up. The sheep pulled out a black planner and scribbled some notes. The already bent pen nearly snapped between her fingers. She gritted her teeth and arched her arm back. Then, following another deep breath, she stuffed it and the planner back into her brown file bag. And when the team crooned, "No times for losers!", she reburied her face into her palms.

I cleared my throat. "I was thinking of getting the Veggie Pizza. Would you like to join me?"

Her hooves slid down. "What?"

I shrugged. "I've had a rough day, so I figured I'd spoil myself with pizza. And it looks like you had a rough day, too. Would you like to join me?"

She cast a look towards the team barely restraining themselves from chanting, "OF THE WORLD!" She turned back to me a with a relieved smile, quickly collected her bag, and shuffled into the seat across from me. "Thank you. It's been…difficult. But that's the story of my life."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Guess Leodore does this a lot?"

She sharply inhaled. "You have no idea." Her eyes brightened. "Oh, where are my manners? My name's Dawn. Dawn Bellwether."

"Tyler Zorrillo."

Her eyes fell to the arrowhead. "Oh, you've had the procedure done." She clasped her muzzle. "I'm sorry. That was very insensitive."

"It's fine. Yeah, my parents took me in when I was about five. But I still get mammals thinking I'm a walking stinkbomb, even with this thing." I batted the silver tag.

"I'm sorry. The De-Scent Initiative was put into motion before I got here. And I'm sure Leodore's never considered changing it."

"He won't…wait. Leodore, as in Leodore Lionheart?"

She laughed nervously.

I blinked. "Assistant Mayor Bellwether. Oh, crap, I'm sorry. I didn't recognize you."

Dawn shook her head. "It's okay. Trust me, you're not the first. I'm really more of a secretary, anyway."

I relaxed. "Well, what kind of toppings would the Assistant Mayor like?"

She eyed the list. "I'm partial to tomatoes and kale, myself. I can go for half–"

My turn to shake my head. "No, it's my treat. After what that jerk put you through, it's the least I can do."

Dawn smiled again. There was something lovely about that. "Thanks. What do you like?"

"Tomatoes and kale sound fine to me. Maybe some olives and bell peppers, too."

"Those sound great. Thank you."

I flagged down Viola and made our order. Dawn breathed considerably easier when the soccer team finally vacated the building at the jaguar's polite request. The PA switched from Preen to Seal's "Don't Cry", anyway. The sheep drew out her planner and frantically flipped between well-marked pages. "Bearig has it in for me, I swear."

"How many jerks do you have to deal with?" I cautiously asked.

Dawn drummed the pen cap. "Too many. Far too many."

"I hope I'm not one of them."

She paused. "No, you're not. You're one of the good ones."

I didn't ask. Dawn resumed rechecking and adding notes until a bell nearly shook her out of her seat. She sighed and pulled out her phone. I looked out the window. The jaguar-ocelot team kicked a ball through the mud, nearly tripping a red fox couple. Anxiously clicking fingers and a low grunt brought my attention back to Dawn. She eased her locked grip on the phone. I slid my untouched water glass to her. She took a big drink.

A few minutes passed, quiet save for stock rainforest sound effects and the umpteenth broadcast of "Try Everything". Dawn nursed the remaining water, fingers clutching the plastic when another bell rang. I gave her a little smile. She returned it and dutifully retrieved her phone for what was probably another of the Mayor's texts. "Ugh." She didn't bother to reply. "He rescheduled our meeting with Bearig at La Arena Blanca. And didn't tell me."

"Asshole."

She grinned. "Talk like that'll get you in trouble."

I grinned back. "It's the truth. Zootopia's got Freedom of Speech. Besides, it's not like he's bugged the place." I arched my left ear. "Right?"

Dawn laughed and slapped the table. Down the way, Viola eyed us curiously. The sheep brushed away a tear. "He would if he could."

Viola approached with a veggie pizza cooling in its blackstone pan. She smirked at me. "¿Comiendo para dos? Es nueva."

I shrugged. "Mal día."

Viola nodded and swept towards the brown wolf calling for another plate of peppered hash browns. I passed the spatula to Dawn. She carved out a slice and ate it slowly. I grabbed my own and opened my mouth. Her eyes locked onto my teeth. My ears flattened. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

Dawn waved her free hoof. "Oh, no, no, no, it's okay. It's just been a long day." She nibbled on the rest of her slice. "So, what do you do?"

"I'm a delivery skunk for Nutra-Lyfe," I told her between very careful bites. "Today, I handled a Tundratown run by myself. My coworker was sick."

She sighed. "Sounds about right. I guess you had to walk through a lot of snow?"

"Three blocks, dragging a sledge of veggies and fish. My tail kept sticking to my back."

Dawn leaned across and gently gripped my arm. "I'm really sorry to hear. You don't deserve that."

"Thanks, but I'm not holding any grudges. He came in and got me out of there."

"I'm glad." She retracted her hoof and resumed eating. Before her third slice, she added, "Thank you again."

"Least I can do, after what you've done for the city."

She giggled. "Oh, I don't do much. I just make sure the paperwork doesn't climb too high and the Mayor's golf clubs never rust."

"Like I said, after what you've done for the city."

She smiled once more, a light blush crossing her muzzle. "Thank you."

We finished with three and a half slices left in the blackstone pan. Dawn quietly excused herself. I wiped my paws and slid out to pay. Viola greeted me with the register with another smirk. "Getting cozy with the Assistant Mayor?"

"Nah, just helping her out. She had a worse day than I did."

"Right." She collected the bills, counted out my change, and passed me a takeout box. "You're a good mammal, Ty."

"Yeah, she said that, too. Good to know."

Dawn had returned by the time I made it back to the booth. And, sadly, she was once again jotting down frustrated notes. But she pushed a smile when she realized I was there. "Sorry, duty calls. I've had my hooves full, lately."

"I understand. I'm glad I had the chance to meet you, Assistant Mayor Bellwether."

"Please, call me Dawn. And thank you, Tyler. I really needed that after all…thank you." She nearly dropped her file bag as she scooted out. I caught it and set it back into her hooves. "Thank you. I've got to catch the 7:40 Tranzit to Sahara Square."

"No problem. I gotta get back to Selva Cruz, too. Mind if I join you?"
Another lovely smile. "I'd like that."

Ignoring the last knowing smirk Viola cast at me, I reopened my umbrella and walked with Dawn Bellwether back to Selva Cruz. Another smile. And, perhaps for the first time that day, her phone didn't break her good mood.

I waited with her on the platform with the takeout box and my 8:00 ticket back to Savannah Central. Dawn rechecked her planner and phone. "I'm sure Bearig'll have a good reason for switching at last notice. But at least some good came out of this." She brushed her hoof up my arm.

My fur tingled. "Glad I could help the city. I mean, you're the one really running things, right?"

Dawn laughed sadly. "Maybe one day, Tyler. Maybe one day."

"It'll come. Did you want the rest?"

She shook her head. "No, I probably won't get home until midnight. And the second Kent sees that, he'll snatch it up. Thank you, though."

"Asshole."

"Yep."

The Tranzit slowed to a stop, lights cutting through the pouring rain. She gently squeezed my arm, gave me one last smile, and disappeared into the nearby car. I watched her train fire off into the distance. I could still feel her hoof running through my fur. It…no, that was crazy. I just helped her out. Still, it was nice to meet her. Nice to see her smile.

Now if only those guys would treat her better.

That damn bear! He'd better have a good excuse for swapping out Misty's for La Arena and not telling me about it. Then again, his kind didn't need any. Who would argue with a mammal five times your size, who could easily knock the wind out of you with a "friendly" slap to the back? Certainly not the little ewe who pranced about in a desperate attempt to make that maned idiot realize that, no, it wasn't fair to saddle her with Sanitation Company meetings so he could wine and dine.

Then she reminded herself that she was only there to prove the Mammal Inclusion Initiative "worked". Hurrah. And all she had to do was quickly rearranged her workload for the next three days. What she did for the good of Zootopia.

My Ramsung clanged that stupid bell. I should've changed that ringtone, but I needed the warning before the inevitable command. Smellwether, get your wooly butt down to Enfurprise and rent something a Predator would want. Don't settle for anything less. Or, Book a room at The Palm. And I want an executive suite–don't let them scam your Prey brain into accepting the rat holes they keep for the tourists. If only his adoring public were privy to all that.

I pulled out the phone. Nothing. The bell clang again. Oh…I quickly inspected the cabin. Thank goodness I secured one all to myself. There were a few perks to being Assistant Mayor, even if those idiot Preds didn't always respect them.

I retrieved the burner phone. Same ringtone, and why not? Leodore was convinced I forgot where I was until he gave me the order. The silly ewe would lose her phone until he saved the day with an ill-timed text. I checked the screen. Quality model, cased to look exactly like my Ramsung. Save for the small burn at the bottom right corner. I never should have let Jesse use it.

Oh, listen to me, getting distracted! The text was from Doug. I shivered. This had to be good news. Things were already falling into place. After all, it wasn't easy to relocate eight "earnest" civilians, but the boys were very helpful. My wool stood on end. I brushed myself down. No, it wouldn't do to walk into La Arena with rattled wool. Even if I was just meeting the Mayor and his moronic PR bear at a bar where they'd no doubt squander money sneaked from the taxpayers. I didn't expect anything less from Preds like them.

The message was short and simple. Nine.

I patted my excited heart. Nine, nine mammals that maned idiot now had to account for. He thought he'd keep it under wraps, but…heh. It was amazing what information could be gleaned by a little sheep hardly anyone paid attention to. I could already see it. If he wasn't half-buried in that silk white sand floor, Lionheart would get the heads-up from one of his roving cronies and leave with some vague excuse about a meeting. And Bearig would pick up the tab. So like him.

Sahara Square's aura of neon and heat lamps neared. What rain still clung to the car from The District now rapidly evaporated. I replied with a simple Good work and stuffed the burner back into my bag. At this rate, perhaps Doug would surprise me with a tenth. Nine was really good, but we had to go higher. It wouldn't truly have that epidemic feel with only nine Predators. This good news certainly made up for Lionheart and Bearig's latest mistreatment.

Oh, no, I had almost forgotten about that skunk. Tyler…Zorrillo. At least I didn't forget his name! He was…peculiar. No stupid jokes about herd mentality or my height. No condescending comments. Just a nice guy. He didn't seem to want anything from me, either. That'd be a first.

No, that was unfair. He was civil, courteous, and respectful, even for a Predator. And he called Leodore an asshole, something I wanted to do for months. Even if that term would've been considered in poor taste by the donkey residents. He was nice, though. Different from the others. Very different. Wonder if I'd meet him again?

The train coasted to a stop. I sighed. Hopefully, this romp wouldn't end with me digging sand out of my wool like last time. Bearig and his stupid jokes and his stupid "friendly pats". And they all laughed, too, when I was thrown out of my seat into that finely sifted sand. I had grit chewing into my scalp for three days after that little stunt. My fingers clenched.

No, I had to calm down. That would change, soon enough. It was just unfortunate that I couldn't give Doug the okay to add Bearig to the count. Too much attention. The last thing I needed was to make it look like an assassination attempt. Lionheart would turn that into a publicity nightmare, ruining everything I spent months setting up. And the less Doug was seen with me, the better. He was an efficient ram, to be sure, but even I couldn't spend more than five minutes around him.

I disembarked from Cairo Sol Station, quietly moving between the rampant footfalls of the other, larger mammals. Fortunately, this crowd thankfully had enough sense to walk around. The last time I was here, a dumb jackal, bragging loudly about "knowing Sahara Square like the back of his paw", nearly sent me careening off the platform when he and his gibbering friends broke into a run. Why did Zootopia tolerate such idiots?

No, I had to stay calm. Well, I could be a little flustered. If Lionheart hadn't fled to cover his behind, he'd rib me for being "fashionably late". And if he didn't, Bearig would pick up the slack. I had to put on the lost little ewe act for a little bit longer, no matter how much it made me want to puke. They liked that. Probably made them feel all the more superior. As if their unfair height advantages weren't enough.

It was hard to miss La Arena Blanca's white neon advertising the famously silk soft, silk white sand along Dry Vista Avenue. Admittedly, it didn't irritate my skin as badly as normal sand did. If only they could blanket all of Sahara Square with the stuff. I gave myself one last brushdown and straightened my glasses. A small fleck clung to the right lens. No time. I willfully ignored it and approached the civet maître'd.

He led me to the bar section of the restaurant. And Bearig's laugh echoing towards us was reassuring. "So I told them, you know that one? The one about the three-humped camel? They never laughed any harder."

The civet gave me a courteous nod and robotically returned to his post. Bearig seated himself at the glowing white counter. A dromedary patiently wiped a couple discarded cups, stoically listening to Bearig's stream of camel jokes. Leave it to that oaf to be completely oblivious to the differences between species. No sign of Lionheart anywhere. An excited little bleat escaped before I could clamp my mouth shut.

Bearig grinned widely. "Dawn, you finally made it! It's a shame Leodore couldn't stick around. He had some…other matters to attend to. I'm spending quality time with my new friend here, just in case he comes back." The dromedary bartender shot him a suspicious look. Bearig flashed a Lionheart smile loaded with smarmy warmth.

I climbed onto the seat to his right. "Good to hear, Kent. Good to hear." I quickly added, "Because we don't want him to fall behind."

"Right, right. That's what we're here for." His claws tapped at a red glass. "So, where were you, little lady?"

I fixed the innocent ewe face. "You and Leodore said we'd meet at Misty's on the Vine around six o'clock."

The ursine's face sank a little. I relished it for all of five seconds, before his default grin returned. "We had to reschedule at the last minute. I'm sorry about the confusion. But at least he got the word through, right?"

I forced myself to nod. "Oh, I understand. I just didn't want to waste any more valuable time waiting."

"Of course not! Now, does the little sheep mind if I buy her a drink?"

I couldn't hold back my groan. "Kent, you know I don't drink."

"Right, right, have to remain professional. I understand."

I have the only brain among us, I yearned to say. Instead, I simply asked for a lemonade.

The dromedary briefly looked between us and sadly nodded. He understood. I smiled back at him, legitimately. Nothing forced, like I did with Bearig two seconds later.

"I think I passed the memo before, but I was thinking of trying out a new public service announcement campaign. Something that encourages Predators and Prey to come together, in the true spirit of Zootopia."

"You mean, Prey and Predators? Prey makes up ninety percent of the population."

"Yes, yes, my mistake. Anyway, I was thinking. Since Bogo's gonna have that new bunny cop in Savannah Central…" He drummed his claws.

My cue. "Judy Hopps."

He snapped his fingers. "Yes, Miss Hopps! Well, ever since she joined the ZPD, I've felt we should highlight our shared coexistence through a series of little dramatizations. Hear me out. Something like, a fox helping a family of voles cross a busy street."

"That might be considered a wee bit patronizing, Kent."

The black bear laughed. "Nonsense! It's just demonstrating community spirit and camaraderie and…" That pesky third word escaped him. "Either way, it's just the sort of thing The Lionheart Administration needs to inspire the populace, don't you think?"

Sure, it'd inspire citizens to continue kissing his butt. The dromedary set down my lemonade. I smiled and took a sip. A hint of ginger, very nice.

Oh, right, Bearig was waiting for a reply. "I suppose that could work. For the good of Zootopia."

His paw came dangerously close to knocking me off the seat. "I knew you'd see it my way! I can already picture the first one. A simple fox, perhaps like this one selling popsicles the other day, takes time out of his busy schedule to carry a vole family and their stranded Ratillac through the rushing, late-day traffic. Maybe I could even get that fox to help us. You'd like him. Charming fellow. His son wants to grow up to be an elephant. Has a cute little costume and everything."

Probably played you for a sap, too, Kent. You could only expect as much from foxes. "That sounds adorable, but I'm not sure it's necessary. Lionheart's approval ratings are still fairly high." Underservedly so. "And we'd need to be careful about foxes."

"I suppose you have your own stories about gallant Predators coming to your aid, then?" Kent's voice sharpened a little. Not sure why.

I sipped my lemonade and thought back to Misty's. "Well, there was a delivery skunk who bought me dinner."

The bear's eyes widened. "What?"

I paused, and then groaned as his muzzle curved into a grin. Oh, muttonchops, what did I just do?

He didn't relent. "That's exactly the sort of thing we're looking for in this campaign. Gallant Predators helping Prey whenever they can." The bear raised his paws. "Be it across the street, or simply sharing a meal after a long, hard day."

I fought hard not to bury my face. "Kent, please don't make a big deal out of this. He was just being nice."

"Which is exactly what we're looking for! Do you think he'd like to participate?"

"Kent, you haven't even talked to any production companies, yet."

"We can just use Leodore's go-to mammals. Oxton-Bay hasn't let us down, yet." Bearig smiled knowingly. "So, what was this gentlemammal like?"

"Please stop. I'm not gonna drag him into this."

"It's a golden opportunity, Dawn. And since he helped you especially, that makes it even better. You said ninety-percent of the population consists of Prey, right? Imagine how all of those Prey must look up to you. When they see a Predator helping you in your hour of need, it should be nothing short of nothing inspirational."

"And once again I have to remind you how patronizing that would be. And I wouldn't've had an "hour of need" if you two could be bothered to let me know about a change in plans before I wasted almost two hours waiting for you."

Bearig leaned back. I resumed sipping my lemonade. To my left, the dromedary nodded. I took a deep breath and turned back to Bearig. "I'm sorry, Kent. It's been a long day."

He brought his paw down. Thankfully, he only lightly brushed my back and curled it back onto the counter. "No, I'm sorry, Dawn. Sometimes, I get so caught up and forget. I just thought this might help."

And so it was the innocent ewe's moment to placate the sadsack Pred. "It's not a bad idea, in theory. I'm just saying that it might come across as a bit…insulting."

"Did it insult you to accept that skunk's offer?"

"His name's Tyler." Oh, why did I say that? "That was different. He offered to share a meal with me because we both had a bad day. It's not the same as asking a family of voles to act like they can't cross the street."

"But that's not what I'm asking at all." Bearig took a long swig of his drink. I sniffed. The telltale vodka smell now just hit me. A Scarlet Maria, without the celery garnish. "I'm just saying that I want to remind the good people of Zootopia to come together. And since there's more Prey than Predators, it feels right to show that Predators won't hesitate to help their neighbors."

What Zootopia were you talking about, Kent? "That's a sweet sentiment, it really is. But I think maybe you should at least revise it a few more times. Perhaps you could include more scenes where Prey help Predators?" How I said that without gagging, I'd never know.

The bear shrugged. "I suppose we could, but like you said, the Predators aren't the majority. The message isn't as strong if they're the ones being helped."

I finished my lemonade and passed the glass to the dromedary. He silently tilted his head towards the tap. I considered and nodded. Who knew how long we'd be stranded here before Lionheart came back? If he came back.

Bearig pulled out a few sheets of paper and furiously scribbled with one of the scattered La Arena Blanca pens. A bell clanged. I excused myself and slid off the seat. Bearig didn't notice, still occupied with what I assumed was a script for his patronizing PSA. Oh, well. It was better to leave him to it. Let the big bear get it out of his system.

The silk sand tickled my feet. I checked between the two phones. The burner Ramsung clanged again. Cupping the burned corner with my palm, I pulled up the messages. From Jesse. Cookins done. Its bitchin. I rolled my eyes, but read the next. Woolter's got seventeen more. I smiled. Keep up the good work, I texted back. I retucked the burner Ramsung back into my file bag.

Bearig was still hard at work with his pseudo-script when I returned to the bar. The dromedary pointed to the refilled lemonade sitting on the counter. I quietly thanked him and retook my seat. Bearig still didn't notice. Over his left arm, I could faintly make out the words PREY walks down street in pouring rain. I shook my head and took my next sip.

"At least it's quiet now," the dromedary said.

"Yes. Thank you for the lemonade, Mister…"

"Nahil. And you're welcome. A hard-working Prey like you deserves it."

He really did understand. "Thank you again, Nahil."

Nahil nodded and walked to the other end of the glowing countertop. A rabbit who looked like he could've been Judy Hopps' brother paid for a Scarlet Maria, fidgeting in his seat. I considered warning him before Bearig would notice and rope him into his idiotic project. But fortunately for us, Kent started another sheet.

After half-an-hour of lapping his vodka blend and scrawling various Predator-and-Prey scenarios, Kent finally dropped onto the counter. I obligingly nudged him. And then nearly fell off when he woke with a start. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I lost my head for a minute, there." He looked over the papers, two of which now curled into the sandy floor. When his paws just couldn't reach, I sighed and dropped down to collect them. Nahil shot him an annoyed look. It was nice to see, until Bearig nearly yanked my arm out of my socket.

"Whoops, sorry, Dawn." He chuckled and released me. With his genius work back in his claws, he sorted them out. "I've gotta ring up Oxton-Bay's mammals for this. After I run it by Leodore, of course, but I'm sure he'll agree it's a brilliant idea."

I wiped sand grains from my skirt and nodded, in case he was watching. While Bearig engrossed himself in the task of editing, I climbed back onto the seat and passed ten dollars to Nahil. He passed back eight. I stuffed the remainder in a tip jar not far from the register, which had collected a disappointing assortment of coins. The rabbit took a break from his Scarlet Maria to dig out a dollar and drop it in. Nahil smiled approvingly.

The opening lyrics of "I Just Can't Wait to Be King" cut into the room. I excused myself once more and pulled out my regular Ramsung. Sure enough, there was Lionheart's photo, catching a politician's smile that so perfectly matched his roughed-up mane and torn suit. That was one hell of a Friday. And it wasn't like he was ever going to see it.

Well, better not keep him waiting. "Hello, Assistant Mayor Bell–"

"Yeah, yeah, skip the formalities." His breathing was labored. "You over at La Arena Blanca, yet?"

"Oh, yes, I met up with Kent a little over an hour ago."

"Right, right, Bearig. Listen, I'm gonna be occupied for the rest of the night. I'm sure I can trust you to see Bearig gets back safely, right? Shouldn't be too hard. As long as he didn't drink himself under the counter. Again."

I gritted my teeth, and then cheerfully replied. "Of course. Anything that–"

"You can kiss my ass later, Smellwether." There was a mental image I didn't need. "Anyway, I gotta run. Send me a memo about whatever Bearig's got planned. Or have him send it, I don't care." A quieter female voice called for his attention. "Just take care of it." At the quiet voice's insistence, he added a "please" before hanging up.

I smirked and pushed the phone back into my file bag. Even if I had to walk that damn bear home, this was too good. He was getting desperate. But with nine mammals gone missing, who could blame him? Certainly not me. I giggled, before recalling I'd be expected back in the bar. At least Bearig would have his wallet on him. In theory.

After convincing Bearig to give his craft a rest, the black bear polished off his Scarlet Maria and grinned at the rabbit. "This is good stuff, huh?" The rabbit politely nodded and turned back to his drink. Bearig slid his payment towards Nahil and awkwardly tried to cram three dollars into the jar. It nearly spilled under his claws. He gave up and let the bills tumble inside. "Sorry about that. You've been a good friend." Fortunately, the idea of drafting Nahil into his PSA campaign never crossed his mind.

Gently holding his left paw (the right was stuffed with wadded papers), I guided the slightly staggering bear out of La Arena Blanca. The civet eyed Bearig and kneaded his forehead. I provided the stock apology and tugged Bearing towards the burnt orange bench out front, before he might say or do something else stupid.

"How many did you have?" I asked, trying to sound as concerned as possible.

"Give me a moment." Bearig slipped his arm free and collapsed onto the bench. He looked at the wadded papers in his other paw. "I still got it up here." He tapped his temple with one free claw.

How tempting it'd be to leave him here, but then I'd never hear the end of it. With any luck, the vodka and hot sauce would scorch all memories of his proposal. And Tyler, too. I pinched the bridge of my nose. I never should've mentioned him. That poor skunk didn't need to be volunteered. I cradled my head. Bearig had better forget I ever mentioned him.

I looked up and down Dry Vista. It'd take longer, but it'd be easier to direct Bearig along the stone streets that eventually connected the avenue to Cairo Sol. The last thing I needed was to dig him out of whatever shallow grave he plunged into. I considered calling Tiffany. She might be off by now. No, I didn't want to saddle her with the unfair task of kitsitting the damn bear. Let her have a night free from that worry.

Someone shouted.

I turned back to the street. An impala lied on her back, clutching her left leg. Her overturned bike hooked into the sand, the front wheel completely submerged. I immediately ran over, pushing my bag's strap back onto my shoulder. The impala's head shot up. "I'm all right. I weaved a little too far."

"Mind if I take a look?"

The impala pulled her hooves away. I leaned in. There was a scrape that dug far enough past her fur and skin to bleed, but otherwise nothing serious. I reached into my bag for my emergency kit and got to work. A little cleanup and a little disinfectant (she didn't even wince, unlike a certain bear I could name), and I soon pressed a small bandage to the area. Once she was taken care of, I quickly heaved her overturned bicycle out of the sand. The front wheel dislodged, knocking me onto my backside as it rolled free and collapsed on the stone.

She ran her fingers over the bandage. "Very effective. Thank you." The impala stood and lifted the bike upright. "You're certainly prepared."

"It pays to be in my line of work." I dusted myself off and politely bowed.

The impala knelt and gave me a quick hug. "Thanks again. I'll try to keep away from the edge this time." She steadied herself atop the bike and rode away into the mess of neon and heat lamps. I smiled.

Behind me, Nahil stepped out and prodded Bearig. The ursine woke with a start, nearly scattering his already wadded and dirtied papers. The dromedary glanced at me. I nodded appreciatively and walked back to Bearig. He returned it and made his way back to his post. Bearig, brain still hard-wired with alcohol, made an effort to stand. His right paw held its death grip on his scripts. He grinned nervously at me. I maintained a polite stare and took his arm once more. And stopped him from colliding with a nearby dune.

"See? We're proof that Zootopia can come together. You totally get it." His claws sank into my headwool. "You understand."

Just a little longer, I had to remind myself. Just a little longer, and I'd never have to do this again. How sweet that would be.