Bellwether's Tolls

Bellwether’s Tolls

Chapter 1: Present Day

It had been a little more than two years since Nighthowlergate, and the crime rate in Zootopia was at an all-time low. Sometimes it seemed that not a creature was scamming—not even a mouse. Indeed, the city had settled into a predictable urban mix of petty theft and money issues, like laundering, counterfeiting, and—yes--tax evasion.

Although Zootopians forgive, they never forget. Dawn Bellwether was still the most infamous politician in their history—recent or otherwise—and many dreaded the day she would be allowed to walk the streets. Some believed she could never truly atone for her actions. Others would disagree, but feared seeing the face that would remind them of their own faults.

Bellwether wouldn’t see freedom for a long time yet, but there was one mammal who felt that the ewe deserved a chance at redemption. He’d never given up on a mammal in need—not a day in his life—and he wasn’t about to let this one’s reputation rattle him.

Chapter 2: When the Attacks Began

The random attack at Walrusmart had nothing on this. Not since then had Hannah Snowshoe Hare been scared to leave her apartment. But at least she wasn’t alone: Johnny had been visiting when the news broke, and agreed not to leave unless she asked him to. Since then, they’d been cuddled up on the couch watching movies, cooking meals, and doing everything they could to keep the heartrending news coverage out of their thoughts.

“Thank you for staying with me, darlin’,” Hannah cooed, snuggling closer.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here with you,” he answered, knowing exactly which words calmed her. Sure enough, she sighed in contentment.

“Aww, you’re so sweet,” she murmured, covering his face in kisses.

“I know you’d do the same for me.” After so many years together, they read each other well; she’d do anything for Johnny, because her heart was his.

Chapter 3: Present Day

Olivia Otterton wasn’t satisfied with the status quo. So while monetary malefaction was preferable to all other manners of moral malfeasance, she’d rather nip it in the bud. The sow had been through enough to realize that, otherwise, it would be all too easy for the crime rate to escalate; she was grateful that her position as Assistant Mayor afforded her a platform for action. The otter and her friend Phinneas Fairchild (the previous proprietor of her post) had, for the past 6 months, held a support group for newly-released criminals in the hope of helping them transition back into society.

Duke Weaselton was a frequent “guest” at these gatherings, though he seemed to do so for sport more than anything else. On this particular, the mustelid must have felt bold (or perhaps bored), because he piped up.

“Hey Phinny, I been itchin’ to ask ya somethin’. Why’dja skip town, huh? I was all set to make me a mint with my blockbuster sequel, and then ya ditched us. You’re more of a weasel than I am!” As low a blow as that may’ve been, he was right about one thing. Phinn had ended his support group for fellow mustelids without warning. The ferret replied with a respectful, if slightly strained, smile.

“I didn’t ‘skip town’, Mr. Weaselton—or at least, I didn’t intend to. I very much enjoyed working with that group, but some conflicts came up in my life, and as a result I felt it would be in the city’s best interest if I took a leave.” Weaselton narrowed his eyes, clearly not convinced.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, bud. Why’d ya hightail? Were we not good enough for ya?” At this, both Phinn and Olivia were taken aback.

“No, that wasn’t the case at all,” Phinn assured him. “It was the opposite, really. I was facing serious doubts as to whether I could serve the city well. I found I was struggling to perform on par with the Mayor.”

“Oh, that guy,” Weaselton sneered. “Tell ya what, Phinny. Since he’s done a decent job of keeping preds’ noses clean, you’re off the hook.” As there was no civil way to respond to that, the ferret opted to change the subject.

“I may look into resuming the mustelid group in the near future. The door’s always open.”

“Meh.” Weaselton waffled. “The warm weather’s comin’, and Wilde’s outta the pawpsicle game now. When my assets freeze up”--he paused to chuckle at his own joke-- “we’ll talk.”

Chapter 4: The Attacks Persist

As much as Sam Lapin loved urban life, she’d never been happier to be back in her hometown of Bunnyburrow. Right now, Zootopia—the city she’d made her own—was unrecognizable to her. The random and unpredictable incidents of aggression were everywhere. While she hated to think the worst, Sam was beginning to think she’d gotten out just in time.

She wasn’t in the country to stay—or so she hoped—but for the time being, she’d needed to be near her family. For all intents and purposes, that included Herb. They’d officially been together for almost two years, but her family had only just met him when they’d arrived three weeks ago. He’d been an instant hit, which wasn’t exactly a surprise, but it had relieved her troubled mind of some weight. At the same time, her heart ached for the city’s twitterpated prey, those who had hoped to bring home their predator paramours. She hoped that someday, they would be as readily accepted as she and Herb had been.

Every day she kept company with her clan gave Sam a little more strength. There were good mammals out there. They were friends, neighbors, confidants. There were plenty in the city, too, she knew, and they would root out whatever had turned it upside-down.

~

It wasn’t like Herb to be so restless. In coming here, his plan had been simple: stick by Sam’s side and stay positive. Still, for the past week he’d managed neither. At the moment, he’d grown tired of pacing the floor. Instead, he’d settled on the porch swing, gazing wistfully out at the farm and its surrounds.

It would be easy to just wait until the madness that had seized the city blew over. So many mammals were feeling shocked, helpless, and confused—himself included. But, for as long as he could remember, vulnerability had been what drove him. Whereas some might shun that susceptibility, he found that embracing it led to the most fulfillment, whether it was within himself or through his connections to others. It could be said that no mammal ought to step into this frightening fray, and yet, like his hero the Great Catsby, Herb wanted to believe that some good could come from this much pain.

But that was to say nothing of Samantha, who was fast becoming an integral part of his life. He had every intention of marrying her—and soon—but he felt she deserved more stability in her life than could be found on the front lines of the ZPD. His head told him to do what was best for her. His heart insisted that his inner turmoil wouldn’t end until could think objectively. He wanted nothing more than to be with her forever...and for now, that meant putting some distance between them.

~

Under the cover of darkness, Herb set out into the countryside. He soon found himself at a quaint little campground run by a kindly raccoon named Elaine. She showed him to an equally charming cabin; if it weren’t for the nocturnal hostess, he might never have found a place to stay...After all, Bunnyburrow was notorious for its dense population. It was in said lodging that he was left to his own thoughts, wondering how soon he could return to Sam.

Chapter 5: Present Day

Herb had been visiting with Dawn every Friday for the past five months. It wasn’t by any means something he’d sanctioned. Instead, it had been his personal choice, especially after hearing reports of the progress Olivia and Phinn were making with their efforts.

Still, he’d known from the outset that Dawn would undoubtedly be more difficult to reach. But he’d been told that he had a gift for winning others over. He believed that—most of the time—so he’d decided to meet with her. Then there was the fact that, almost daily, ex-members of Lionheart’s administration came out with claims they’d witnessed the former politician emotionally abusing her on a regular basis. Herb had hoped that Weaselton’s documentary portrayed only isolated incidents, and it hurt to hear that such was not the case.

When the horse had first paid a visit to his chosen charge, all traces of the bitterness that had been splashed across tabloids and television faded from her face. Keen green eyes peered at him from behind the protective partition as she watched him with interest.

“You’re...the mayor,” squeaked the sheep in disbelief. “I never thought I’d see another prey in office.” The ewe’s eyes had shone with cautious optimism. “What do you want with—me?” Herb smiled.

“Well, Ms. Bellwether...May I call you Dawn?”

“S-sure,” said the sheep, sounding surprised.

“Rest assured, Dawn, that all I really want to do is get to know you better. Everyone has a story, so I’d be honored if you shared some of yours with me.” Herb spoke encouragingly, yet her only response was stunned silence. “I’ll start.”

“As you probably already know, my name is Herbert Hogden Horse, IV. My mother is a mare, and my father is a boar. You can call me Herb.” Dawn didn’t know what to make of this magnanimous mammal.

“I’m sorry, sir—um, Herb—but I’m just a little shell-shocked. I don’t know if I have a right to be, but I am.”

“Everyone has a right to their feelings, Dawn. It’s how you deal with them that matters.” A shadow of shame flickered across her face, but then the extraordinary happened: She smiled. It was something she hadn’t done for a long time.

Chapter 6: The Attacks-No End In Sight…?

Sam was up early one one morning—as is any farm rabbit’s habit—feeling more refreshed than she had since arriving home. But that all changed as she came awake and realized that Herb was nowhere to be found. She wasn’t one to think the worst, but her mind managed to turn back over yesterday, when he’d declined to join family game night in favor of getting some fresh air.

He’d been ecstatic about meeting her family, and, up until that point, everything was going great. If he’d been at all apprehensive, he hadn’t mentioned it. That, too, was unusual, so her clan couldn’t be to blame.

Sam mentally retraced her steps. She vaguely remembered that when she finally retired to bed last night, he hadn’t followed. She’d thought about going to check on him, but then decided against it. They were both independent mammals, respectful of one another’s space, and each was plenty self-aware, certainly enough to know when they needed to talk to each other about something.

She looked around the room. It appeared undisturbed, save for Herb’s overnight bag missing from its place on the dresser. As her glance flickered over the nightstands—hers, then his—she noticed that the latter lacked a particular item. The book he’d been reading had a memorable title: Maisy’s Critter. Her horse had left for greener pastures, and she needed to know why.

She went down to breakfast, wondering which of her myriad siblings she should question first...Somebunny had to have answers. As it turned out, she didn’t have to wait long. One of her brothers had just come back from picking veggies for lunch (--rabbits always have to think one meal ahead--) and said that he’d seen Elaine, a neighboring raccoon, at the farmstand. She had, he said, been going on and on about this nice young stallion who’d stayed at her campground last night. There might be a few horses in Bunnyburrow, but there was only one who was worth that much bragging. Bingo.

Sam grabbed a waffle from the table, determined to eat on the run. She was glad she’d stuck to her instincts and waited it out, but she was still more than a little miffed. Herb had some explaining to do.

~

Thanks to a little direction from Elaine, she found him sitting on the porch of a romantically rustic cottage. The whole thing was quite picturesque, right down to the sight of her stallion enraptured by the pages of Maisy’s Critter.

She sidled up to him. When he didn’t budge, she spoke—casually, but with no small amount of sarcasm. “How’s the book?” He glanced up, surprised.

“Sam!” Then, he looked down at his watch, realizing what he’d done. “I’d planned to be back at the house by now. I’m sorry.”

“Fair enough,” Sam conceded, holding her ground. “But why exactly were you out here in the first place?”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the attacks.” This gave Sam pause, and her expression softened. “I feel like there’s something I should be doing, but I don’t know what. I worried about what that would mean for us. With you so close, all I could think about was keeping you safe. That will always be my priority, but I needed a minute to figure out what I should do.” Sam nodded slowly, absorbing his answer.

“So that means…?”

“When we leave here, we should go talk to my parents. Knowing them, they’ll be on top of the relief efforts.” Sam nodded, smiling a little. Since moving to Zootopia, she’d heard no shortage of wonderful things about them. Not only were they pillars of their immediate community, but they were champions of the entire city. It was becoming increasingly clear to Sam that Herb was a chip off the ol’ stock. “What else?”

“I want to do some research on the city. Politics, law, that kind of thing.” Sam was intrigued. “Nothing’s set in stone, but someday—sooner rather than later, I think—I could see myself running for mayor.”

“Of Zootopia?” Sam marveled aloud.

“The one and only. Would that bother you?” Sam was rarely caught off-guard, but that revelation, that question, had done it. She’d envisioned so many possibilities for a future with Herb, but it had never crossed her mind that ‘First Lady’ could be one of them.

She shook her head. “No. In fact, I like the sound of it.”

Chapter 7: Present Day

Hannah had been looking forward to this for weeks. She’d finally found the moxie—not to mention energy, time, and refreshments—she needed to invite Sir Horse (to say nothing of Bruce and Zeke, per protocol) to her apartment for a social call. He’d be here soon.

After she’d double- and triple-checked that everything was ready, she sat by the door, dancing in her seat. For a leveret-at-heart like her, waiting was the hardest part. Her focus was so intense that when the intercom buzzed, she jumped. “Hiya, Miss Hannah. It’s us.” She almost didn’t recognize Zeke’s voice—he was a bear of few words. Tapping the button with a trembling paw, she answered.

“Yay! C’mon up!”

Zeke entered the door first, followed by the Mayor, and then… “Bruce the caboose,” announced the moose, making everyone laugh.

“You guys want a snack or something?” Both bodyguards declined. “We’re good for now, thanks,” Zeke told her. We’ll be out in the hall.”

“Okay.” As Hannah showed them out, she smiled. “If you guys be good, I’ll bring you some cookies later.” She laughed, waved, and locked the door behind them.

“Thanks for keeping the guys in line, my friend,” Sir Horse said with a smile. Hannah laughed.

“Aww, I’m glad to.” She smiled. “Let me get those cookies.”

“You certainly are the hostess with the mostest, Hannah. But let’s hold off on that for now, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not! Talk first, snack later...Got it.” After inviting her guest to sit, Hannah asked,

“What’s up?” Sir Horse sighed.

“You know how you share all your big secrets with me?” The hare beamed.

“Yeah! I love doing that!”

“Well, this time I have a big secret. I haven’t told anyone except Sam.”

“Wow.” Hannah sensed the gravity of the situation, whatever it might be; Sir Horse wasn’t one for keeping secrets.

“Yeah.” He paused, then: “I’ve paid Dawn Bellwether a few visits.” At this, Hannah felt a rush of protectiveness toward her friend. She wanted to believe there was good in everyone, but she knew that wasn’t always the case. And in the city’s collective consciousness, there was no doubt as to what Bellwether was capable of; the sheep herself had seen to that.

Even so, the horse’s news didn’t shock her at all. Sir Horse was the most generous, least judgmental mammal she’d ever met. He possessed such strength of scruples, and a soul of sweetness and light. So, it ‘dawned’ on Hannah that he sought to give the sheep a second chance. The thought brought her close to tears. As if she needed another reason to adore him…!

All this sped through Hannah’s mind in a matter of seconds, and she managed to say, “How’d it go?”

“It was going well, until today. She’d opened up so much over the past few weeks, and then she just... shut down.” Hannah didn’t know what to say. In a way, she wanted the sheep to worry that her luck with Herb had run out. If the ewe was waiting for the other shoe to drop, at least she would feel something—a stark contrast to the cold-hearted criminal who had wounded myriad mammals in as many ways.

“If she’s having second thoughts, I’m not sure what more I can do for her.” Both were silent for a moment: the horse pensive, the hare hating the despair in her friend’s voice. At length, Sir Horse spoke again. “I took this job because I love Zootopia. So you could say--in a manner of speaking—that I also love each and every one of the mammals in it.”

At pains not to interrupt in case he chose to elaborate, the hare raised her paw slightly, quiet and cautious. Ever-attentive Sir Horse noticed all the same, smiling at the gesture. “Yes, Hannah?”

“This one loves you back.” She said it with a smile of her own, as much to reassure him as to speak her truth.

“So I’ve heard,” replied Sir Horse, his expression a modest simper. “Suffice it to say, my friend,” he continued in a measured tone, “this hasn’t been easy for me.” Her heart went out to the horse, and she struggled to speak around the lump in her throat.

“Zootopia owes you everything. You put the city back together. You could’ve stopped there, but you’re always out talking to everyone. Saying ‘hello’, asking how they are, and being there for them. No matter how good or bad things get, that’s the greatest gift anyone could ask for.” She smiled a little. “But we didn’t even have to ask. You came to us.” She bit her lip to keep from crying. “You’d be the first to say that it’s really pluck, or luck, or who-knows-what-else that saved us, but we needed more than that. Predators were targeted, and prey were used. Everyone was hurting. We all made it...because of you. Any mammal with a hint of heart knows that’s the truth.”

So it was that the hare refused to take ‘no’ for an answer, and there were no words of thanksgiving that the horse hadn’t offered a thousand times before. But in Hannah’s house, hugs were always welcome.