122Author's Note:
Some of you guessed that this was coming, but the details may surprise you! click bait
If you are just joining this series for the first time this story is in the continuum AFTER Season 2, so you will definitely want to read Thanks for the Fox and Guardian Blue Season One and Season Two for important context, you may also want to read Winter Hearth for important causal background.
Every time I take a step forward, Life likes to knock me two steps back. On the plus side, money's not the problem, free time is! But, I am convincing some of the people and things around me to make sacrifices to give me a little of that time back and I am spending it doing what I love. Telling stories! I hope to maintain at least a two update per month schedule, so we shall see how it goes!
Also! A HUGE shout-out to J. N. Squire and my friend Alex for assisting with editing this series! Without them my ego would collapse in on itself!. Thank you!
Sheepless in New Reynard
Chapter 8: Fable
Sharla regarded the assortment of young mammals sitting before her in a wide semi-circle on the grass outside the school by the Munch field. It was a warmer winter day, so this segment of class could be outside. There were thirteen bunnies, two goats, a mongoose, two foxes, and one bobcat. This was her class. They ranged in age from about 8 to 10, depending on how their birthdays fell. It was a fun age to teach. They were very impressionable.
With smiles on their faces they prepared for the language arts portion of their day. Second grade was full of new things, and Sharla had one of the finest records of any teacher in the Tri-Burrows.
Of course, she had wanted to be an astronaut. That didn't happen. It wasn't because sheep would make terrible astronauts. It was because mice didn't weigh anything. It was all about saving delta-v. Even neatly shorn and smooth, her remaining wool itself weighed more than the entire current crew aboard the space station. Sharla would never go to space.
Judy had been only partially right. Anyone could be anything, but there would always be competition. While an appreciable number of bunnies had attempted to follow the example of Sergeant Judy Hopps, so far she remained the only bunny. There was competition there, and only the best made it through. Even in Judy's graduating class, more than half the mammals in the academy either did not pass, or simply dropped out.
But this, Sharla thought as she looked at the eager faces of her students, was what Sharla wanted to do now. Now more than ever.
She cleared her throat, and then began to speak.
"Once upon a time, in a far away, quiet place, there lived a very tiny mouse. And the very tiny mouse lived in a very tiny house. And the very tiny house was in the smallest little village. However, in this smallest little village, his was by far the smallest little house. Because in this smallest little village, he was the only smallest mouse. All the other mammals in the village were bears."
The students all laughed at the idea of one mouse living in an entire village full of bears. It was pretty ridiculous.
Sharla continued. "One day, the little mouse went to look in the stream that cut through the center of the village. He got too close to the edge, and with a sharp cry, he fell right in."
"Oh no!" a girl bunny to the left cried.
"Rats can breathe under water," stated the mongoose with authority.
"No interrupting the story!" one of the goats pitched.
"Rat's can't breathe under water," another girl bunny added. "Besides, he's a mouse! They're different!"
"Nu uh," replied the mongoose. Sharla pinched the bridge of her snout. Ah yes. The downside to the second grade. There it was.
"Ricki," she called over to the mongoose, "Rats can't breathe under water. They don't have gills. Some can hold their breath for a long time, but that's not the same thing."
"Oh…" Ricki responded.
"Where was I?"
"Recess." one of the fox kits announced.
"Recess?" Sharla replied, confused.
Almost all the kits cheered simultaneously and bolted in every direction.
Sharla stood where she was, staring down at the remaining pink-jumpered bunny and the bobcat. They were best friends, and both absolutely loved story time.
"I cannot believe that I've fallen for that twice now," murmured the ewe.
"You said the rat fell in the stream," the bunny noted.
"Right… uhh… Yes, into the water went the rat," Sharla stated.
"He was a mouse!" corrected the bobcat. Sharla felt her eyelid twitch.
Right about then, three of the bunnies and both goats returned.
"Everyone ran. Sorry," one of them offered. Sharla continued.
"The mouse fell right into the stream," Sharla pushed.
"You said this part already," one of the returning bunnies announced. The Sheep closed her eyes a moment. Would this have been easier for Motti, she wondered? Would the hyena scare the children into focus? In this age of electronic information, gizmos, games and noise, was there really a way to get through to them? She took a deep breath, and again, continued.
"The mouse fell into the water, and then clung to a reed."
"It's clinged." corrected a bunny.
"No, it's clung. It was a spelling word last week," the bobcat noted.
"... clung to a reed," Sharla forged on. Sometimes you just had to press on amid intentional distraction. "The water was cold, and it was moving, and the mouse knew that if he let go of the reed, he'd be swept far downstream and even if he survived, it might be days before his little legs brought him back to his home."
"It's so hard to be a mouse," interjected a bunny.
"Perhaps as much as an hour passed as the mouse shivered and contemplated ways to rescue himself from his situation. Finally, he heard a big, growly voice from over him. He looked up to see that a bear had wandered to the stream and was standing in what was, to him, about knee deep water.
"'Do you need help, little mouse?' he asked of the poor thing. The mouse was, despite living in a village full of bears, very wary of them. He had not asked them for help before, and any time they dealt with him, they offered to pick him up, to bring things down, or in some way remind him that because he was a mouse he was helpless around them. For some reason, on this day, bitter and shivering on his reed, the mouse refused to ask a bear for help. If he had to swim to the other bank, he would do that to prove he did not need a bear's help.
"'Okay. I shall be on the other side, waiting,' the bear kindly promised. He stepped out of the water to give the mouse a chance to swim."
"Bye mouse," stated the bobcat evenly.
"Insensitive!" chimed a bunny behind him.
Sharla cleared her throat to get eyes and ears back on her. "As soon as he let go, the mouse was swept down the stream. The bear, his long gait more than able to keep up, simply walked along the side of the stream at about the same pace as the mouse."
"It must have been a really slow stream," a bunny commented.
"Not to a mouse though," informed Sharla, "Big mammals move fast in comparison because of their greater stride."
"I heard mouse cars don't even go as fast as I run," added the bobcat.
The ewe nodded at that. "That's true. Because of how light they are, they'd go flying when going around curves and the like. Now… as I was saying, the bear followed alongside the river, and the mouse continued to try to swim to the other side, but the water was cold and the current made it so he kept being pulled away from the sides. The bear followed for about ten minutes, and then got back in the water and scooped up the mouse."
"Yay!" cheered the bunny in the pink jumper.
"I knew he'd get saved," commented the buck beside her.
Sharla continued, "So, the mouse, shivering in a tiny ball in the bear's huge clawed paw, sat up, sputtering and half-drowned. He asked, 'Why did you save me? I'm not helpless. Everyone keeps helping me and I haven't been asking!'"
"He sounds ungrateful. Put him back in the water," laughed the bobcat.
"Elijah!" cried the pink-jumpered doe. "That's mean!"
Their teacher ignored that. "The bear told him, 'We do not help you because you are helpless. We help you because we're your neighbors. Some of us are even your friends. We help each other all the time, even if that doesn't mean picking each other up out of the brook. Perhaps, if it is your choice, we will help less in the little ways we do in town, but please do not ask us to choose not to help when you really do need it. To ask that of your friends is the very opposite of kindness.' The mouse thought about this, and agreed. He had not been kind to push his friends and neighbors away when they wished to help. Sometimes, the kind of help they offered was not the kind he wanted, but ultimately, that they wanted to help at all made them his friends."
"It's sad there were no other mice for him to be friends with," the doe in the pink jumper verbally wandered.
Sharla wrested the conversation back again. "The moral here, kits and cubs, is that there are those in your life who will always help you, and that is not a burden to them. It's alright to graciously, even proudly accept the help of those close to you. They don't help because they think less of you; they help because they think the most of you."
"May we please join the others in recess?" asked Elijah the bobcat. The bunnies were squirming somewhat as well. Their teacher could tell when she had expended the attention span of her students.
Sharla nodded curtly at that. "Thank you for asking politely. We head back inside in fifteen minutes. Get all your wiggles out before class. Computer lab is next." What remained of her attentive second grade class dispersed and she stood up, stretching. She wasn't sore anymore, at least. It had been almost a week since her little adventure to find her brother. At least in her usual day to day life, things were starting to get back to normal.
Sharla began walking back toward the bleacher-side of the Munch field. The surge in popularity of the kits game saw it being used a lot more, so the field looked nicer than it had for years. Several of the other teachers were gathered there, keeping an eye on the frolicking students. There was also… something strange there.
There was a wolf dressed in pantaloons and some kind of green doublet with a strange hat boasting a tall, proud feather. This captured Sharla's interest immediately. As the ewe got closer, she could hear the twanging of what looked like a lute, and the laughter of the other teachers. Why hadn't they called her over there? She was missing all the fun! The sheep sped up. As she arrived, two more wolves slipped out from behind the refreshment stand and grinned, both carrying an instrument. A flute and a drum were held by the new canids. They wore tights and tunics. What in the world was this?
As the sheep approached, one of the other teachers, a lady deer, giggled and shushed the others. All Sharla caught of the conversation was "… Here she comes." Her ears fell back. That… was not a good sign.
She looked to the first wolf and he approached her, making the sheep tense up considerably. She scolded herself inwardly, as he was smiling, and even wagging. She knew what that meant. She really had some work to do. She smiled at the wolf, and, as he played his lute, he began to sing to her.
"Sharla, she's on an excursion,
And in town she's casted aspersions!
Oh what did she do?
She said he ain't true,
My truth is the singular version!"
The other two wolves sang out right after the last line, "Oh her truth was the singular version!"
"What the heck?" she asked, eyes wide, looking at the other teachers. More were gathering. Why were these wolves singing about her? What excursion? What did she say wasn't true?
The singing continued with the lute-playing wolf in the lead. The manner of song and their outfit made them feel like something out of a medieval play. The other teachers started clapping along with the beat of the drum, all having quite a lot of fun.
"We ain't sayin' this sheep here is dull,
Yes, we promise her head is quite full!
But say it ain't so,
What she didn't know,
Of a hero with bow-strings to pull!"
Wait.
"Of a hero with bow-strings he'll pull!"
No.
"Oh dear Sharla she's just taking stock,
This is coming as quite a big shock,
She knows what she did,
She ran and she hid,
But Sam has found his missing black sock."
The teachers burst into laughter, and Sharla could only hold her burning cheeks. Oh no!
"Oh Sweet Sam's found his missing black sock!"
Sharla turned to walk away. She'd just walk away from this spectacle. How the heck did a little kit like him manage to pull something like this off? It was nearly 400 miles from his home, and she certainly didn't tell him where she was from, did she? She couldn't remember! She was recovering from Motti laying her out when she met Sam.
As she turned, and began making long, quick strides to escape the intended humiliation, the teachers and the wolves all followed. Her students arrived to find out what was going on. What kind of kit was he?! The minstrels continued to play. Sharla looked back at them as she slowed down. She'd look so foolish running away from them, wouldn't she? She would literally have to turn and face the music.
They took a break from the singing and danced in a slow circle around the blushing black sheep.
"Sharla, sweetie, what did you do!?" laughed the Sika Deer drama teacher. This was something she'd be verbally grazing on for the rest of the damned year.
"I offended a small fox," she blankly admitted. "I apparently earned this."
The minstrels, in dancing circles around her, playing their instruments with that bouncy, silly song, stopped behind her. She turned to face them for more lyrical abuse. She barely withheld a genuine gasp as she found the fox kit in question standing right in front of the minstrels. She brought her hooves up to her snout, eyes wide. How the hell was he standing there? Wasn't he supposed to be in school? Four hundred miles away?!
"So maybe we've upset this poor ewe,
Should she still think our hero untrue,
Forgiven is she,
Accepting, you see,
That a ten year old fox kit got you!
"Oh a ten year old fox kit got youuuu!" The three wolves trailed into a howl and the growing crowd of teachers and students exploded with laughter at that. Sam grinned smugly at the rattled sheep and flipped a silver coin of some kind into the air with his thumb. It landed on the sidewalk at her feet. She bent down carefully to pick it up.
"What… What the…" She took it in her hoof and turned it over, finding the words 'GOT YOU' in lovely gothic letters. It was a very pretty coin. "I don't…" she stood to ask Sam what the heck all of this was about and was unable to keep from gasping that time.
The fox kit and the wolves were all gone.
"They're fast." Elijah the bobcat commented.
"I wonder if they play Munch?" asked one of the fox kits.
"I can't believe Miss Shearer got Got," marveled the other. "That was awesome." Sharla stood there, a bit numb with a coin in her hoof to remind her forever that some heroes were immune to the scrutiny of time.
Dear Judy,
I am so profoundly sorry for the previous email I sent to you last week.
I was going to write a bunch of stuff, and wanted to tell you that I didn't need you to worry about me, but I was interrupted as I typed the email on my phone, and accidentally hit send instead of draft somehow and… well… it wasn't what I meant, and I know it had to have seemed that way. I have had a rough go of it, but I have some good news.
My stupid brother isn't dead. With the help of my new friends from New Reynard, I was able to find him hiding out in the woods in Deerbrook. I can't tell you much because of you being a part of the whole investigation situation. Detective Pawlander, who you originally told me to get in touch with, explained what I'm able to talk about. I can only say that he is cooperating with the ZBI, and in exchange for important information concerning documents he handled, he will not face significant punishment.
Please tell Vivienne thank you for sending me to New Reynard. I feel sure that I was sent to the only mammal in the world who could have found my brother. You have made some very interesting friends in your time as a police officer.
That brings me to the real purpose of this email.
I can never overstate how sorry I am for how I treated you and your husband. Nothing I could have been going through could ever excuse the things I said, or even how I felt about your new happiness. No apology will be sufficient for the things I said to Vivienne Wilde. I know now what kind of a mammal she is, and am bitterly regretful to have cost myself a chance at befriending a mammal like her. Your messages to me suggested that my friendship with you might not have ended in my closed-minded lashing out, but I know it suffered. It had to.
I have learned ugly things about myself that I can only try to repair going forward, and hope earnestly that you will still be around to talk to me as I work through it. Know that I do this for me, not for anyone else, as I don't ever want to be seen as the kind of mammal I made myself out to be last week.
Wounded by worry and grief, I was bleeding out pure rage that I might otherwise have never shown anyone, but Honey helped me to understand… regardless of what wounded me, it was still my blood.
I will get better. I have to try.
I wish you and Nick the very best, and pray that you are able to forgive me for my hurtful actions.
With gratitude,
Sharla Shearer
The ewe meticulously examined her carefully written email, still mortified at the unexpected item rotting in her sent folder. She had discovered it while trying to find a copy of an email she'd sent to a parent before the holidays, and nearly screamed when she read it. She had to have accidentally sent it when she jammed her phone back in her pocket. This new email captured her real feelings, however.
Did Judy already know about Gareth? What Gareth had was more for the ZBI than for the Zootopia PD, but the bunny was involved in that investigation. Had she thought that her friend just didn't want to talk to her anymore?
That situation would end immediately. Sharla clicked send and sighed, dropping her bead back on her piled up pillows in bed. She looked down at her laptop and picked up the thick, pretty silver coin that she'd placed on the end table by her bed. GOT YOU. She laughed, in spite of herself. Yeah, she was gotten. If she was able to become friends with Nick after all she'd done, she'd ask about that. Was it just a New Reynard thing? One of her students seemed to see the significance of her 'getting got', but she didn't dare ask him about it.
While she gazed at the lovely memento, her phone chimed with the ringtone set for Muzzletime. She grinned. It was late, but this was what she was looking forward to all afternoon! The sheep picked up her phone from the end table and turned on her lamp to give enough light for a video call.
"Hey Gareth!" she chimed as her brother's bespectacled face came into view.
"Sorry! Sorry about that! I lost track of time!" he immediately prostrated.
"It's alright, doofus!" laughed his sister, just delighted he didn't forget altogether. He had so much adjusting to do, so she knew it was hard. "It gave me some time to catch up on emails. I'm awful about letting them sit," she admitted.
"I've done worse," the sheep on the other end commented, rolling his eyes.
"How are you doin', though?" his sister asked with more care and concern. "Are you eatin' the right stuff? Takin' care of yourself?"
"Absolutely!" he replied brightly.
Another voice off to the side interrupted. "Sheep lie! He eat an entire spinach pizza only ten minutes ago!" Motti's face appeared beside his in the frame.
"Hey Motti!" laughed Sharla.
"It was just a medium! Those are tiny!" the white sheep grumped. He looked way better at least. His wool was shorn neat and tidy again.
"It say serves four!" Motti disagreed.
Honey's voice joined those of the sheep and hyena. "You ate pizza like… the whole time you were hiding! How can you still even stand the stuff?"
"Let me see Honey!" Sharla demanded, grinning. It felt so good to hear her.
"See, there's a badger," Gareth detailed, turning the phone around. They were sitting at the long, heavy meeting room table upstairs in the bed and breakfast. On the table was a carefully made 'scene' with buildings and a mat with a grid pattern stenciled onto it.
"Are you playing a table-top game?!" cried Sharla, trying hard to stifle her laughter.
"Sure am!" boasted her brother. "Didn't Honey tell you she was into roleplaying games?" Sharla winced, stomping down a specific memory of that and then she nodded curtly.
"I was aware, yeah. Is Motti playing too?" That seemed somehow unlikely.
"She is! First time player," explained the white sheep.
Sharla grinned. "That must be… new for her."
"I am playing fox ranger, is name Wajanja," Motti confessed proudly. "It is meaning 'clever'. I kill a spider already, but Wajanja almost die. It will take time to make fox stronger!" Sharla fought so hard not to laugh. Her brother ruined a hyena! Still, they all seemed so happy, and she choked slightly as she considered that she could not remember the last time she'd seen him like that. He'd been a bit moody for months before he went missing, and now his sister knew why.
"I can't… I can't believe you have them both roped into your geeky life, Gareth," Sharla managed to finally get out. Her brother's face popped back into frame, showing the pictures along the wall behind the table again.
"Hey, I have to fill the time somehow. I may have to stay here for as long as six to eight months they said." Sharla nodded at that, still smiling. She could not hold that against him. Playing games made the bed and breakfast feel more like home.
The day that they found him in the forest, Honey and Motti agreed to take Gareth home to the bed and breakfast for his own safety. The badger had told Sharla that she was on really good terms with an agent in the ZBI who they could trust. Sharla was initially uncertain. After all, that 'Lancer' guy was in the ZBI too, wasn't he?
After taking his statement, the agent who was heading up the investigation became particularly interested in the testimony involving 'Lancer' and suggested he could send Gareth to a safe-house until after the major trails at least. Sharla originally hated the idea because she didn't know that she could sleep at night knowing that Gareth was in some weird place with mammals he didn't even know.
But Agent Bay made an offer that Sharla immediately agreed to. She'd almost forgotten that Honey had already hosted witnesses in her bed and breakfast before, and it was equipped to act as a safe house so well that it met with ZBI specifications with zero modification. After everything they'd been through, Sharla felt confident that her brother would be okay staying with Honey and Motti until he was able to return home. And she was able to keep in touch with him the whole time provided she agreed not to discuss his location in the calls.
"I'm gonna let you kids get back to your game," offered Sharla. "Tomorrow is STEM lab and we are doing chemical reactions, so if I'm not focused on that, someone goes home the wrong color." She laughed at that to make it clear to Motti that it wasn't really dangerous.
"No problem. Sorry again for almost forgetting," Gareth replied, alone in the frame again as Motti got back to her chair.
Sharla smiled broadly at her brother. "Next time I visit, maybe I can join in your… what do you call them… Campaigns?" Her brother's eyes shot wide open.
"Wait, what? Seriously!?" he asked with a far-too-large helping of enthusiasm. Was she going to regret this? Maybe.
"Sure! I never gave it a try, and maybe it's not so silly if even Motti can get into it," the ewe expressed.
"Sweet! Heck yeah!" Gareth laughed.
"Is fun!" Motti added.
"Take care, Gareth. Be safe!" Sharla demanded.
"I will. Thank you again. For everything," her brother said with a more serious tone. His finger took over the frame as he ended the call. Sharla leaned back into her pillows against the wall beside her bed with a thump.
Yeah. He was doing fine. They all were. Maybe things were never going to be the same, and her dad still wasn't speaking with him because he immediately ended up under investigation just for working at Clover, but that too would probably eventually pass.
These were crazy times that they lived in where a text-based adventure on the internet could be the very thing that saves you at your darkest hour. On the internet, no one knows you're a sheep.
And if you stay true to who you are, maybe, just maybe, it never mattered at all.