Thyme For Sweets

TFS Table of Contents

Below is a list of synopses, followed by individual links.

1 Meet Hannah Snowshoe Hare, a fun-loving leporine who's about to take the bakery by storm!

2 While trying to find her place at L&P, Hannah reflects on her past.

3 With encouragement from her friend the mayor, Hannah talks about her lost love--Johnny Reid.

4 Clawhauser heard some super-hot gossip, so he rounds up his bakery buddies, busting to give them the scoop!

5 Nick talks about his friendship with Herb and Sam, and his mid-morning snack run gives him food for thought.

6 Sam and Emmitt have a neighborly chat.

7 Hannah talks about the guys in her life.

8 After a long absence, Assistant Mayor Phinneas Fairchild returns to the city.

9 With the weekend upon them, Judy and Nick are eager to crack a case--one that hits closer to home than they expect.

10 Nick and Herb have a post-holiday chat, complete with great food and good tidings.

11 Hannah invites her friend Herb (or 'Sir Horse', as she calls him), to her 10th high school reunion.

12 It's Herb's birthday! Sam hosts a party at the bakery in his honor.

13 Judy's parents stop by the bakery while WildeHopps is there! That would be great--except that her dad has a problem with Herb.

14 Herb invites the gang to the movies. They watch and discuss...a documentary that sounds familiar...

15 Hannah's upset by the effects of high-profile news coverage Herb receives. His bodyguard, Bruce, comes to the rescue with a reassuring story.

16 Hannah worries that Herb is overworked, but she strives to be supportive of his pursuits.

17 Hannah loves hanging out with her friends at L&P, but she misses being in PR. Will she have to choose between two great gigs, or can her friends come up with a plan that'll give her the best of both worlds?

18 After a disagreement with Sir Horse Hannah shows up at one of Johnny's rallies, leading hare and horse to discuss their differences.

19 Hannah invites Lory (who we were introduced to in "Off The Hook") to the bakery, and they talk about their values.

20 Sir Horse stages a revue that keeps everyone on their toes--including Hannah, for whom the occasion could be a nightmare...or a dream come true!

21 Hannah and Lory have a heart-to-heart at L&P. A lot has changed between them, and Hannah is excited to see where it goes, but she's not sure if Lory feels the same...

Lory enjoys Hannah and her earnest entreaties, but it takes him awhile to tell her so...and when he does, he does it in a way that's well worth waiting for.

22 Hannah and Lory enjoy some quality time at the bakery, and Sam, watching from the sidelines, approves. When the day's events cause their love-fest to pall, Sam uses her observations to provide perspective...with a little help from Sir Horse, of course!

Thyme for Sweets

One

As told by Hannah Hare

Ever since my accident, desk jobs are about all I can stand to do. (Pun intended, 'cause I use a powerchair.) So, for awhile I was stuck with a string of secretarial jobs. I'm pretty low-key, so I didn't mind, but after awhile, gigs like that can get boring.

But it wasn't all bad. My favorite so far is my off-again, on again stint as PA to Nick Wilde, half of Precinct One's legendary police team. Unlike his partner, Judy Hopps, Nick is chronically disorganized, and sometimes just plain lazy. He's also a real ladies' mammal, so although it's not in the job description, I sometimes serve as a bodyguard of sorts, helping to fend off unwanted advances. Problem was, I forgot to look in the mirror.

Yeah. I kinda have a crush on Nick Wilde. But we agree we're better off as friends, and now that he's decided to pursue something with Judy, I'm out—for now. She was a good sport about the whole thing. I'm happy for those two; they're good together. I miss seeing them every day.

After that, I thought long and hard about what I'd like to do. You know, just for myself. I've always loved to draw. But I also have a major sweet tooth. So I pretty much geeked out when WildeHopps reminded me that their friend the FLOZ has a bakery and was looking for a pastry artist to help out.

At first I thought it was too good to be true. Le Lapin et Le Pain was super-famous, even before its owner moved into City Hall. And now...would someone that business-savvy really take a chance on a snowshoe hare with a gimpy paw and a pipe dream? Nick and Judy seemed to think so. I'd never met Sam Lapin before, but I'd gotten to meet the Mayor a few times. If that was any indication, I was in for a real—well, treat!

Still, I could barely believe it when I got the job. That first day, I was really hopped up. On my commute, the city noise only served to further jangle my nerves. I spotted the carved wooden sign—of a rabbit nibbling a piece of bread—from a block away, and from there I went into full daydreaming mode. I was so excited about what the day might bring…!

Thanks to my wandering mind, when I'd arrived just outside the shop, I almost collided with the Mayor! Every time I'd seen him, I was absolutely star-struck. If you ask me, after the Nighthowler case, he had just as much to do with saving Zootopia as Nick and Judy. Anyway...this time, my reaction was no different. “Mayor Horse!” I squeaked. “I'm so sorry.” He smiled.

“No problem. You must be the new pastry artist Sam mentioned. Hannah Hare, right?”

“That's me.” Maybe I didn't need to be so nervous...but, still, there were two mammals who had to be the Mayor's security guards giving me dirty looks for not watching where I was headed. As a sometimes bodyguard myself, I understood their annoyance. The Mayor, though, didn't seem to share our worry.

“I was just leaving, but I'm so glad I caught you. Welcome to the bakery, Hannah. I'll see you around, for sure.” Before I could manage another word, he added, “By the way--as you'll be working for my wife, you can call me Herb.” He backtracked, heading for the door. “Let me get this for you.”

“Th-thanks,” I stammered, and hurried inside.

I felt like I'd left the city far behind, instead of just outside the door. In keeping with its name, the shop resembled a charming cafe. I approached the counter, where I was greeted by a smiling rabbit in a flour-dusted apron. “Hi, Hannah, I'm Sam. It's great to meet you.”

“You, too,” I smiled back.

“I see you found the welcoming committee.” She shrugged. “It's not much, but...” That must be what Nick and Judy meant when they said that their friends tease each other mercilessly. Even WildeHopps, king and queen of couple jibes, were in awe of them. Sam must've seen my look of surprise, because she said, “I'm just teasing. We have our fair share of inside jokes. You'll catch on.”

“I've been looking to do something new with my pastry art,” Sam told me. She waved her paw along the display case. “As you can see, I'm pretty good with realism, but I wanted to start experimenting with a more abstract style for certain things.” I was still struggling to process the display case...'Pretty good'?! The goodies in there depicted everything from mammals to scenery, to flowers so intricate I could almost smell their perfume-like scent.

I laughed. “Sam, these are...wow! I don't think you need my help, but I'm happy to do what I can.” She smiled.

“Thanks. I appreciate your honesty, but let's see what you can do, shall we?” I followed her behind the counter, where there were several cooling racks set up, topped with something tempting that smelled like blueberry. “Over here are my best-selling blueberry...Nick calls them thingamajigs, but they don't have an official name. I used to only make them at Crittermas, so I called them snowflakes. But then everyone convinced me I should start selling them at the shop year-round, so the shapes are seasonal. Right now they're pinwheels.” So saying, she pulled a piece of parchment paper from a box on the counter, spreading it out on a clear spot. Placing a pinwheel on the paper, she then piled a rainbow's worth of icing tubes beside it. I couldn't resist rubbing my paws together in anticipation.

That's when I remembered to dig out the paw sanitizer in my pocket. I looked up from cleaning my paws to see Sam whisk an apron out from a drawer. I stashed my trusty bottle just in time, before she placed the apron over my head. I almost felt like a princess presented with her tiara.

“There you go! Have at it!” She stepped away to help a customer, leaving me to my cookie(-ish?) canvas. I grabbed the purple, then the pink—my favorite colors. I was going for spirals, but the result was closer to tie-dye splotches. I was torn—excited to be having this much fun at work, but certain that Sam wouldn't like what she saw.

She was only gone for a few minutes, but by that time I'd been nervous for long enough. “How'd it go?” she asked. I sighed.

“Jury's still out on that one,” I answered, watching as she appraised my work.

“Just as I thought...” She smiled. “You're a natural at abstract.” I already knew that, but I never would've guessed that was a good thing.

“Thank you!” I didn't know what else to say.

“You're welcome, Hannah.” When she brought me a nametag—with a purple marker to use—I knew I was in the right place. But even as I proudly pinned it to my apron, I realized that wasn't the only reason I liked it here, it was just...the icing on the cake!

Two

Hannah Hare had been working at Lapin et Le Pain for just over a year. She loved everything about her job, from the creative outlet it afforded her to the camaraderie she'd built with Sam Lapin, owner of the fine patisserie. If only she had the courage to tell Sam what she thought of the music that was perennially piped through the shop.

In Hannah's opinion, it should have been something classy, something that would better reflect not only Sam, but also her husband the Mayor, who stopped in to visit or lend a helping hoof whenever his busy schedule would allow. At the moment, Hannah didn't know what this mysterious music might be, but anything was better than the near-constant loop of Gazelle and similar singers that accosted her ears on a daily basis.

Sam said it was because that genre was in demand these days, and that, as the saying goes, “the customer is always right”. That was, Hannah realized, a sound enough reason. Still, she was all the more thankful for the relaxed work atmosphere as she slouched in her seat, ears scrunched close to her head.

She was on her lunch break, ensconced at one of a smattering of cafe-style tables overlooking the front windows. She'd managed to tune out the music rather well, yet she couldn't seem to concentrate on her lunch—not even the delectable black-and-white cookie Sam had so graciously offered. Instead, her eyes wandered to a table just across from hers, where the Mayor sat, intent on mixing the contents of a large metal bowl.

While Hannah had no shortage of goodwill and respect for Sam, when it came to getting to know the Mayor, she'd acquired what was better described as a 'soft spot'. The phrase was something which many rabbit relatives loathed to associate with, as it often only furthered the public perception of them as weak, overly-emotional species. Generally, Hannah was inclined to agree—one had to be careful with that—but she'd decided awhile ago to make herself the exception.

In the years after her accident, she'd outwardly fashioned herself into a guarded ne'er do well. She'd sensed a kindred spirit in Nick Wilde, thus forging a friendship that withstood the test of time, as well as circumstance. Her ephemeral attraction to him had stemmed in part, she now supposed, from a desire to emulate the master of masks.

With Nick now thoroughly engaged (in all ways but the actual prospect) with the bright and bubbly Judy Hopps, Hannah had noticed a softening of her friend's demeanor. That change, she found, truly agreed with him.

Nowadays, Hannah herself had little inclination when it came to romantic relationships. As it was, she'd once accepted an internship for renowned matinee idol Johnny Reid; she and the charismatic koala crooner had carried on a covert decade-plus affair before their startling break-up. It was Johnny alone who she carried a torch for to this day, even after the highly-publicized cause of the eventual implosion.

The love of Hannah's life had become a staple at Gazelle's peace rallies over the years. In theory, this was a commendable practice, but it proved not as innocuous at it had once seemed. Hannah had witnessed the down-to-earth, gentle Johnny become—more confident, sure, but also (or so it seemed to her) less aware of the issue's sheer enormity.

For all her fascination with showbiz, attention rattled Hannah. She couldn't understand how a mass-mammal gathering that inevitably morphed into a shouting match with the virtually omnipresent protesters could be effective at promoting peace.

Johnny could still make someone's day—including hers--with a smile and a few sweet words; Hannah found that hard to reconcile with the Johnny who was now trying to save the world. The attempt was certainly a virtuous one, but it was also lofty in ways that puzzled her to no end.

It was far better, Hannah believed, to be a one-mammal kindness committee. One day, one interaction at a time; that was her approach. It had always served her well. Ever since she and Johnny had parted as friends, agreeing to disagree, she'd relied on it more than ever.

The pleasant scent of spices caused her nose to twitch, and she shook thoughts of the past away. Once again, she found her curiosity piqued by the Mayor's preparations—and her ears inundated with the strains of Gazelle.

There was another thing she didn't like about that music, but it wasn't a gripe she shared with just anyone. She was no mathematician, but if she had to guess, she'd say that 99.9 percent of pop consisted of love songs. Granted, the same could be said of every genre out there. But why?

She supposed that was because love was hard to find. But, by that logic, so was friendship. True friendship, that is. Furbook and other social media platforms made it easier to reach out, yet one click of a button did not constitute a friendship. It made them much easier to maintain, though no less difficult to come by.

The thought should have added to her earlier unease, but instead it made Hannah smile. Deciding she had a few minutes to spare, it dawned on her that she wanted to spend them with the Mayor.

Upon her approach, he greeted her warmly. “Just the mammal I wanted to see.”

“Likewise,” she replied, returning his smile. “Is that cinnamon I smell?”

“Good catch, Hannah! I'm making my specialty. My one contribution to the bakery.”

“Of two,” Hannah amended, and when the Mayor looked puzzled, she added, “Publicity—present office notwithstanding. You're a mammal-about-town, for sure.”

“Thank you.”

“You were awfully quiet over there--” the Mayor went on.

“What else is new?” Hannah quipped; they both laughed.

“If I may, I believe the better question is...What's on your mind, my friend?”

“I just got caught up in memories,” she said, her tone light.

“Is that all?”

“No,” Hannah admitted. “But it's a long story.”

“Those are my favorite kind,” said the Mayor. Both smiled for a moment before he spoke again.

“How about this, then...Join me for lunch tomorrow, and we can talk about it?”

“That's the best idea I've heard all day!...And there are a lot of great ones around here.”

“Excellent! I'll bring the apple crisp.” So that was what her humble horse cohort was trying to hide!

Three

The following day was an uneventful one—that is, until, come lunchtime, Hannah could be found zipping up to a table to await her guest. Her eyes wandered to the window; she was like a leveret waiting for Santa Claws to arrive. When she caught sight of the Mayor making his way down the street, her face broke into a huge grin.

When the bell on the door chimed, signaling his entry, she did a happy dance in her seat. Luckily—or unluckily, depending on the viewpoint—his first stop was to greet Sam at the counter, so neither of them noticed.

She waited (im)patiently, willing herself to take it down a notch. Of all the times for her inner kit to come out and play…?! If she didn't put said kit in a time-out, someone was bound to call her the Mayor's 'pet'.

In Zootopia, 'pet' is one of the less-controversial colloquialisms. It's sort of like 'millennial' (which Hannah happened to be)...it could be bad news, but if you stripped it of its questionable context, you'd admire the pluck underneath.

Hannah watched with mounting anticipation as Sam held out an impressive-looking cake dish. 'That must be the famous apple crisp!' she thought. An afternoon spent with one of her favorite mammals, and something sweet?! There was no doubt about it; her excitement couldn't be contained. She laughed delightedly.

At the sound (somewhat like a seal, Nick would say), the Mayor turned and smiled. With the tasty treat in tow, he headed in her direction. No sooner had he set it down than he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

A pleasantly startled Hannah only smiled wider and said, “It's so good to see you!” She couldn't say that of many mammals, but it was always true of the Mayor. He took a seat across from her.

“Likewise, Hannah. How's it going?”

“Good. You?”

“Busy, for sure. But I find I'm always ready for enlightening conversation.”

“And there's always time for friends, right?” Hannah certainly felt this way.

“Absolutely.”

Ever the gentlemammal, the Mayor dished out the crisp. Hannah allowed herself a bite—delightful—before embarking on her tale. While she had feared this would be tricky, it suddenly felt surprisingly simple.

“About yesterday,” she began. “There's this singer, Johnny Reid; he's my favorite celebrity. Right after my accident, I needed some extra motivation, so I...wrote to him on Lynxedin. I don't have much ambition, but I'd always wanted to give that a whirl. I thought maybe he'd give me a job.”

“He did. I used to work for him, in PR. He's a sweetheart, and we got along really well. Maybe...” Her voice trailed off for the briefest of moments before she found it again. “...Too well. We had an affair. We were together for—ten years, give or take—before I broke it off.”

“That sounds difficult.” The Mayor nodded in understanding as he spoke, and Hannah perceived infinite patience in his gaze. She knew, instinctively, in her heart of hearts, that it wasn't far from the truth. Not only that, but she didn't doubt for a second that her secrets—and Johnny's—were safe with him.

“Johnny's been co-headlining Gazelle's peace rallies for years. After the Bellwether mess, that landscape got really intense. To me, it does more harm than good. But to Johnny...” Emotion tangled her words, but she went on with a small, fond smile and a wistful whisper, “He wants to save the world. He wouldn't have it any other way.” Hannah squeezed her eyes shut, spent.

She sighed, and when she opened them again, smiled, even brighter than before...this time, profoundly grateful to the Mayor for letting her share her story without fear of shame. “We're still friends, but sometimes it still hurts, so I get thinking about it and just”--she waved her good paw absently-- “space out.” She paused, calmer now. “Yesterday, I was annoyed. As much as I love Johnny, I need my friends. Everyone does. So I was thinking that there need to be more songs about friendship.”

As Hannah spoke, she surveyed the room in her peripheral vision, noting with surprise that Sam was nowhere to be seen...and that the lighted sign in the window had been switched off. It took Hannah a moment to process what this meant.

Sam had made herself scarce and closed her highly popular shop on an otherwise ordinary day so that Hannah could have privacy. The reason she hadn't been rushed or interrupted was that Sam—and the Mayor—wanted her to be comfortable. As the realization dawned, never in her life had she more richly accommodated, appreciated, and protected.

As if reading her thoughts, the Mayor smiled modestly. “Thank you for entrusting me with your story, Hannah. I've enjoyed learning more about you, my friend.”

“Sure,” It was all Hannah could say has she marveled over the matter of who should be thanking whom. And then… “You and Sam”--she laughed, smiled a little— “are just two peas in a pod, aren't you?” The Mayor got a certain twinkle in his eye, the kind he got whenever he was feeling playful.

“Aren't you just the Mayor's pet? Yes, yes you are.” Upon noting he was quoting their mutual friend—a mammal about as different from him as night and day—she burst out laughing.

Four

It was early morning at L&P. Sam had just arrived and was getting ready to open up. Very few customers came in at this hour—only the most dedicated regulars. Just as Sam was donning her apron for the day, the bell above the door chimed.

Benjamin Clawhauser, Herb's college roommate and family friend, burst through the door, cheerful as always. “Good morning, Samazing!” His usual greeting always made her laugh.

“Good morning, Ben! You want the usual?” The cheetah invariably went for a dozen doughnuts. The specifics were minimal, usually 'whatever looks good, and/or has the most sprinkles'. Not surprisingly, there was often overlap.

As Sam packed the doughnuts, Ben asked, “Where's Hannah?”

“She doesn't come in for a couple of hours. She's not much of a morning mammal.” Clawhauser chuckled.

“I feel her pain. Why else would I need a major sugar rush pronto?” Sam smiled.

“Ben, we both know you're not above coming in on weekends...You just come at noon instead of seven.”

“Ooh, touche! But what can I say? Your doughnuts are awesome!”

Clawhauser's smile quickly faded as he began to pace. Sensing his unease, Sam teased, “I know, I know...less talking, more packing.”

“Am I that obvious?” With a self-deprecating shrug, he went on. “Nah, it's not that. It's just...I hoped Hannah was here because I have some super-juicy WildeHopps gossip to share with you guys.” While Sam didn't exactly approve of Clawhauser's loose-lipped tendencies, he was her friend—and his enthusiasm was contagious. So, she suggested,

“Why not come by on your lunch break? Hannah will be here by then, and there's a good chance Herb will be, too.”

“Sounds fab! See you then!” He was headed for the door when,

“Ben..?” Sam smiled.

“Yeah?”

“The doughnuts?”

“Ooh, I almost forgot! Silly me!” He paid up and left with his prized package, humming happily to himself as he went.

~

Hannah arrived at 10 on the dot, as always. “Hi, Sam!” she called.

“Good morning!” Sam greeted her. “I just put a tray of sugar cookies on the back counter to cool. They're in need of 'The Hannah Treatment'.” The hare couldn't resist clapping her paws like a kit.

“Yay! I'm on it!”

~

It was almost lunchtime when Sam checked in with Hannah again. The hare was in a happy-go-lucky mood, still hard at work on her cookies; she was always very thorough. “Aren't you going to eat?” Sam asked.

“I will, but I'm finishing these first; I'm almost done.”

“You might want to reconsider...Did I tell you that Ben's coming over?”

“No!” Hannah exclaimed with playful indignation. “Why didn't you tell me?!” Sam shrugged.

“Guess I forgot...Sorry.”

Hannah wrapped up with the cookies just as the cheetah came in. “Hey, Hannah!” he called, waving.

“Hi!” She left the tray of cookies on the counter and went to sit with Clawhauser. Sam unrolled plastic wrap over the batch; she'd replenish the display after lunch. “What's the matter, Ben?” Hannah asked. “You look anxious.” Sam joined them at the table.

“She's right. I thought this was good news?”

“It is,” Ben explained, “But after what you said this morning...I really, really, really had my heart set on Herb being here, too.”

“Be patient,” Sam admonished gently. “I think he had a meeting today, and they almost always run late.” Just then, Sam's phone chimed; she pulled it out of her pocket, read the text, and smiled. “Guess who that was? Just as I suspected, the meeting went overtime--but he's on his way.”

Absently, Hannah drummed the tips of her claws on the table. “This news better be good, Ben...the suspense is driving me nuts!”

“Oh, it is,” he grinned. “Believe me, I'm itching to tell you!” He bit his bottom lip, as though to secure the secret threatening to leap out of his mouth. Realizing he could use a distraction, Hannah wracked her brain for a topic that would hold his interest indefinitely. That's when she remembered Sam telling her about his daily order.

“How were your doughnuts today?

“So good! My favorite was the...No, wait, the...” Try as he might, he couldn't settle on an answer; there were too many to choose from!

~

“All excellent choices, Ben.” Herb had appeared--and had been standing there long enough to hear the gist of the cheetah's dilemma before he managed to get a word in. Ben looked up.

“Whoops, sorry,” he said, but then his face brightened. “Ooh, ooh, that means you're all here! I can finally spill!” With everyone seated at the table, each with his or her lunch in front of them, now was the perfect time to say…

“NickandJudygotengaged!!!!!!!!”

“Oh, that's wonderful!” Sam said.

“I know, right?!” Ben replied.

“Good for them!” Hannah added. Meanwhile, Herb just sat there, smiling.

“Actually...” The commotion had calmed, and he now had everyone's full attention. “...That wasn't news to me.”

Clawhauser cried out. “What?! You had the scoop of the year, and you didn't tell me?!” Although Hannah was decidedly less concerned, she seldom missed an opportunity to tease Herb.

“I thought we were your friends!” She attempted to punctuate the joke with a playful pout, but it morphed into a grin—such was her amusement.

As for Herb, the smile had never left his face.

“It was the night Phinn resigned. I was hanging around the office, waiting to hear from Judy and Nick, hoping they'd find him. Nick came back first, telling me they needed a break, and he was going on a Snarlbucks run. Then he left again, so I waited for Judy.

“She gave me the letter; we talked it over, and we both felt better for it. When Nick got back, they went outside. I stuck around to make sure they were holding up okay.”

“The next thing I knew, Nick comes in...” Here, Herb paused and sniffed, then swiped at a tear as it ran down his cheek.

“Here it comes,” murmured Sam in what sounded like exasperation...though she hid a smile behind her paws.

“...carrying Judy in his arms. They're b-both b-beaming, and J-Judy holds out her paw, and she's w-wearing this stunning diamond. “The whole t-thing, it was j-just... b-beautiful. Absolutely b-b…!” That did it. Herb was openly sobbing, and, true to form, wasn't about to worry that the others were watching.

As emotions ranging from 'surprised' to 'amused' to 'outright touched' played across their features, Hannah and Ben watched as Sam reached across the table to gently cover Herb's hoof with her paw. Then, Ben finally said what everyone was thinking...Well, in typical Clawhauser fashion, that is:

“OMGeeeeeee, this is all too much, isn't it? Our two favorite officers are tying the knot, and...”--he looked over at Hannah-- “we get to see some majorly adorable PDA right here!” He winked at Hannah and clapped his paws. Without missing a beat, Hannah answered,

“Uh, Ben? I think you mean 'mayoral'.” They both laughed uproariously.

By the time they'd finished, Sam had withdrawn her paw, and Herb had composed himself. Both hare and cheetah had the grace to look guilty; yet although both were contrite, neither could quite curb the corners of their mouths, which curved upward in tiny smiles of triumph.

Everyone was quiet for a moment—a rarity for any gathering that included Clawhauser—but at length Sam spoke. “It's nice to know that your friends have your support,” she said, looking pointedly from Hannah to Ben. “But let me tell you two a secret...” Knowing she had them hooked, Sam went on. “One of the things I love most about Herb is his integrity...and that includes his ability to keep what's said to him in confidence to himself.” Her tone was gentle but firm—yet as she spoke the latter, she suddenly shifted her gaze solely toward Clawhauser, leaving no question as to whom the remark was intended for.

Clawhauser's face fell; for a minute it seemed that he might cry. But he only squeaked, “I'm sorry,” and slouched sadly in his seat. Herb, who had been watching this exchange with interest, took this as his cue to intervene.

“To be fair, they didn't explicitly request that I not tell anyone. Personally, I feel that sharing that news is their business...But, knowing how fond they are of you, Ben, I'm sure they must have accounted for your inimitable enthusiasm.” Clawhauser's face lit up.

“Really?!” Herb gave him a reassuring smile.

Somewhere along the line, Hannah had suddenly withdrawn from the conversation; Herb had a feeling he might know the cause. To Sam and Ben, he said, “Could I talk with Hannah privately for a moment?” Sam went back to work on the display; following his faux pas, Clawhauser didn't have to be told twice and hurried after her.

Hannah sighed, a mix of relief and sadness. “Thanks. I just...got lost in thought about Johnny again. I'm happy for Judy and Nick, but...I was sure I would marry Johnny someday. I wanted to, so badly.” She sighed again. “I'm not going to mope around and mess things up for them.” With those words, a burden was lifted; as she continued, her tone lightened. “It's a small price to pay; I have plenty of things to be grateful for. Being around mammals who care is enough. No—it's more than enough.” She gave him a grateful smile, one that left no doubt as to the mammal she meant most at that moment.

Returning the gesture, the Mayor then replied—with a genuine, genteel bow of his head: “Always ready at your service, madam.”

Five

As told by Nick Wilde

I'm usually very strict about my mid-morning sustenance—Snarlbucks coffee, black, and the biggest blueberry muffin they have that day—but by mid-afternoon, if I'm feeling rebellious, I like to switch it up a bit. That usually means I'll pop into L&P around lunchtime. For those of you keeping score, I go there a lot; I guess you could say I'm a radical radical.

On a slow office day, when we're not on patrol, Carrots will still be up to her ears in paperwork by the time lunch rolls around. I pick up a carrotcake treat of-the-day for my adorable overachiever (yeah, carrotcake delicacies du jour are kind of a thing there, considering the place is run by a bunny) and a bunch of blueberry thingamajigs for me.

I see you doing the math. 'Why does she get one, and you get a whole bunch?' Listen—I'd give Judy anything. (Have you seen the size of the rock I got her?!) What's mine is hers...Just not my blueberry thingamajigs. But before you accuse me of anything—remember, I am the police. Are we clear on that? Good. Because although I freely admit to hoarding thingamajigs, it's not my fault.

Let me tell you something about the dynamic duo that is Lapin/Horse. They know my weaknesses. Take Sam, for example. She knows that I love all things blueberry. Add to that the fact that in my book, her family's crop is second only to Carrots', and what do you have? Easy—a recipe for a mental breakdown. That's right.

She will bribe me with delicious blueberry bliss to get me to spill my guts about whatever's bothering me. She'll be all, 'how does that make you feel, Nick? Have a thingamajig'. And then she'll go, 'I get it, Nick. Have another' and the sordid truths just keep pouring out. She's a tough one, that Sam. If I didn't know better, I'd swear she slips something into those sweets that turns me into a total sap. I mean, if Herb is any indication…

Seriously, though. I'll level with you: I know someone like Sam; she and Judy could be cousins (and maybe they are? Because, you know, bunny families are gigantic. But that's beside the point). They have the same drive, the same love of their roots, and are brave and generous beyond belief.

But I have never in my life met anyone like Herb. Remember, I know tons of mammals. There is nothing I can say about him that won't seem cloying, but it's all good, and it's true.

Don't believe me? No problem. I'll just take a page from his book and tell you a story to prove it.

Just last week, I made a run to L&P. I wasn't going to stay long, but an unusual aroma caught my attention. It wasn't sweet, it was savory—that's not usually Sam's wheelhouse, which piqued my interest even more. I sauntered up to the counter. “What, may I ask, is that positively mouthwatering smell?” I was hoping to get a taste, so my tone may have piled on the guile too much for Sam's liking.

“Nice try, Nick...” She narrowed her eyes, but she can tease with the best of 'em (read: me) so she said, “Thank you.” She went on this little spiel about how she was throwing around the idea of doing a line of frozen stuff. I was a bit...Not 'bored', but—okay, bored—so I almost didn't hear her finish, “...It's all Herb's doing.”

“You don't say?” I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was. “And where might I find this great culinarian?” The next thing I knew…

“Hello, Nicholas.” Huh. Herb only calls me that to mess with me, or if he's in a no-nonsense mood. I become Nick Wilde, P.I. (because it's kinda what I do).

Herb wipes his hooves on his apron and makes his way around the counter. He doesn't seem like his usual self. The Herb I know always has a smile on his face and gets a kick out of a visit from a friend. This is not that guy. Being the clever fox that I am, I decide that he needs a taste of his own medicine. In a good way, like that character in one of Carrots' favorite movies, Mary Puggins; “A Spoonful of Sugar” and all that.

“You okay, buddy?”

“Not exactly,” he sighs, and I realize he's exhausted. It's time for some reverse psychology.

“Well, I'd hate to get in your way, so...” I meander towards the door, although I have no intention of going anywhere. “Gotta run!”

I have one paw out the door when I hear, “No need to leave, my friend.” It's more statement than order. Either way, I know he's not bluffing; he doesn't do deceit. It's not in his vocabulary.

“In that case,” I spun around and headed for the nearest table. “Step into my office.” We sat down, and again, I wasted no time turning the tables on him. “Define 'not exactly'.” He knew I was on to him and had no choice but to talk.

“You've probably noticed that I'm not shy about making statements on what's important to me, in both word and action.” I nodded. “That was the reason behind my running for office. Anyway...I fully intended to let Sam have this venture to herself, but then I thought of something that made me reconsider.” I couldn't possibly see what baked goods had to do with something that would unnerve Herb so much. But he's a reasonable mammal; he wouldn't get his tail in a knot over nothing. So I asked,

“And that would be…?”

“Back in the late ‘70s or early ‘80s, there was a really popular book called Real Men Don’t Eat Quiche that essentially equated sensitive males with being “quiche-eaters”. As a society, I think we’ve progressed since then, but I don’t fully understand the source or persistence of the stereotype.”

It's not every day that the great Nick Wilde willingly concedes to someone else's mental prowess. But on that day, I did. “So you made a quiche.” When I smiled at him, it wasn't a display of chauvinism, and definitely not meant to mock him. There was no subtext, just one mammal to another. No—one friend to another. “Impressive.” Herb finally smiled.

“Thank you, Nick.”

“So.” I cleared my throat. “Would you by any chance be needing a taste-tester?” This time, he laughed.

“It certainly wouldn't hurt.” As I was sitting there trying not to salivate over the prospect of what awaited me, an oven timer went off, and Herb excused himself to go do chef stuff.

The anticipation was driving me nuts; I needed a distraction. I whipped out my phone and pulled up Amazoo, looked up that book Herb mentioned, and prepared for the worst. Instead, I read through several reviews and couldn't help snickering a little.

“Find something amusing, Nicholas?” Yep, the old Herb was back, alright. He set the dish of piping hot, tantalizing pastry on the table and sat down.

“Herb—buddy, pal, amigo...” This wasn't going to be easy. “I think that book you so passionately loathe is a, ah, satire.” I winced, waiting for his reaction.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, calm as could be.

“Well, my good mammal, I am an expert farceur...” Herb wasn't convinced, so I caved. “...Who looked it up on Amazoo.” Still nothing.

The radio silence was freaking me out. That's not like Herb at all. Here's the thing about him-- he's super-mellow all the time, but he will always speak his mind. There's a catch, though: when he's listening to you, he has laser focus (that's a good thing) but—heh--good luck trying to tell what he's thinking. (That, folks, is a potentially major bad thing).

Back in my pawpsicle-hustling days, I made a living out of reading and manipulating mammals. It's not often I'm at a loss about how to handle one. It's not easy to get a rise out of Herb. That's when it hits me; I know what to do.

“I didn't mean anything by that. As a cop it's my job to enforce rules. But, because of you, I'm starting to see that as your friend—heck, as a concerned citizen at large—it's okay to bend the rules a bit.” Herb's eyes light up, and he smiles. But I'm not done yet; I'm on a roll.

“Satire or not, that book is stupid. We have to get past all that mumbo jumbo if we want to get anything done. And you, Mr. Mayor”--I tip my shades in a little salute-- “are doing a bang-up job of making that happen.”

“I've never seen you that fired up before, but let me tell you something: it got to me. The mammals I love most in the world, they—feel--just as deeply...” The thought of my mom and Judy made me smile. “It's an awesome thing. So I say: don't let this book stop you from keeping it real. I'm on your side. I was only looking out for you; I would never take you for a ride. Scout's honor.”

As I come down from my mea culpa soapbox, I realize what I just confessed to. It's all good, though, because Herb is smiling again….and he looks a little misty-eyed, too. “That means a lot to me, Nick.” I smile, shrug and go for the quiche. (FYI, it's gonna be a best-seller...I still have dreams about it.)

When I get up to leave, I hug Herb. And it's not that macho back-slapping deal...it's the real McCoy. He returns the favor, and I think, 'whoa, is Carrots gonna be jealous of me today!'

I walk out of there whistling. I feel a little guilty that 'somebody Carrots loves went to L&P, but all she got was this carrotcake muffin', but I'll survive. That reminds me; this weekend I want to take her shopping for bumper stickers. Why bother when neither of us has a car? Well, because I <3 MAYOR HORSE. We'll put one on the back of our cruiser, see how Bogo likes that. (You get what you give, buffalo butt! Ha!)

Six

“Good morning, Sam. How are you?”

“Well, well, well, if it isn't the First Gentlemammal of Zootopia! How's life as a mayoral better half treating you?”

“It has its share of fringe benefits, that's for sure.”

“Emmitt—if I'm hearing you correctly, it doesn't bother you at all?”

“It's not the easiest position to be in, but it's starting to grow on me. Forgive me if I'm being too forward, but...I'm a bit surprised; that just doesn't seem like you!”

“It's fine; I get it. But, believe it or not...Phinn didn't have a partner. He was pretty much married to his work—or trying to be. Even though it was none of my business, I would have liked to have someone to—commiserate—with.”

“Sam, I had no idea! I'm sorry to hear that. For what it's worth, you're doing wonderfully. Remember, I've seen you work from both sides—citizen and fellow first mammal. And friend, I hope.”

“Of course! And thank you—I needed that.”

“Don't mention it. What about this post bothers you?”

“I want to help the city...don't get me wrong. But I'd like to find a way to do it on my own terms, without attracting too much attention, not to mention all that pesky pomp.”

“That does sound enticing...”

“I'm grateful that I've been able to keep the bakery open, but it's my passion, and sometimes I feel as though it's turned into a 'side hustle', as Nick would say.”

“That's a shame. But you've done some great work, too; your 'Everbunny Has a Story' initiative is inspired.”

“I appreciate that. You've been such a help to me today...You might be next on the list.”

“If ever I am, it would be an honor...but I'd like to earn it first! If I can achieve half as much as you have so far, I'll be a happy camper.”

“That's nice of you to say, Emmitt, but I haven't done nearly enough. I'm thinking about offering baking classes for underprivileged youth. Ideally I'd love to hold them here, but...This is my sanctuary, you know? I'd hate to have the press piling up outside. It's bad enough that Herb has to have bodyguards at the door every time he visits. It comes with the territory, I guess, but it's insulting. As if I can't take care of my own husband…!”

“Mhmm—I know how you feel. If it's any consolation, any time Olivia visits me at the shop, she has guards with her, too.”

“But, Sam: Olivia and I went through a lot leading up to Herb's election. We're both thrilled to have mammals we can trust looking after the city; we felt that way even before she took office. The way I see it, we're in the Golden Age of Zootopia right now; we've weathered our worst, and there's nowhere to go but up. I'm proud to have a part in that.”

“You're right, Emmitt; so am I. By the way: if you're ever tapped to make a speech, you should include everything you just said in it.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

“What keeps me going is seeing Olivia happy. She loves getting gussied up and meeting all kinds of Zootopians, trying to figure out where to take the city next. I don't know about you, Sam, but that's more than enough for me.”

“You're on a roll today, Emmitt! Between you and me: contrary to popular belief, I'm not immune to the Mayor's charms.”

“You don't say?!...Thanks for the laugh, Sam. Now, if you don't mind...The cream-filled croissant looks superb; I'll take one. Two, actually...Olivia loves croissants.”

“Coming right up! Not to sound vain, but what did you call that croissant?”

“'Superb'?”

“That's it! I've been trying to think of taglines for Herb's specialties...”

“Ha! Really?”

“But that croissant is all mine. I have to pull my weight around here somehow!”

Seven

As told by Hannah Hare

Every time I hear one of Johnny's songs on the radio, I lose my breath. I know it sounds dramatic, but that's not me. Most mammals my age get super-chatty when they're excited; I'm the opposite. If I'm trying to appease, impress, or otherwise ingratiate myself to someone, I do my best to keep up with the conversation...I'm a 'go with the flow' kinda girl. But, honestly, the less I say, the more I like you.

I could listen to Johnny talk for hours...and when we first got together, that's exactly what I did. Looking back, I don't think he was used to the attention. I mean, people love Johnny Reid the uber-confident megastar, but what about the Johnny who would rather talk about his idols for hours?! It always stuck me as funny—still does—that he'd rather discuss their accomplishments than his. I like Beary Como and Seal Diamond as much as the next gal, but Johnny's the best.

If you ask me, it's hard to believe that Johnny wasn't considered a mainstream musician until he started making the rounds at Gazelle's rallies. He has such an amazing voice; I won't say I don't like modern music, but it's not my favorite. It's possible to find me grooving to Kitty Purry on PandaDora or Kelly Barkson on Stripesify, but I much prefer the old standards, what Johnny calls 'middle-of-the-road'-style.

I guess that stems from my dislike of demographics; mammals fight about so much these days, it's nice to have music that everyone can enjoy together. That's part of the reason I find Johnny's activism so ironic—but, hey, everybody needs an outlet. So, even though we agree to disagree on that part, we'll always have the music.

Which reminds me...More than any other genre, easy listening lets men be absolutely vulnerable, and it's...Wow. Being open is part of Johnny's personality anyway, but when he's singing such sweet songs as “And I Love You So”--one of my (many) favorite covers he's done—it's the most arousing thing I've ever encountered; I don't get out much, but that's the truth.

While it's safe to say that I'm a sucker for singers—crooners, to be exact—Johnny is one of a kind. He's magic. Even though we're not together anymore, I still feel that way. There's so much that I love about him...but there are also things that could stand to take a backseat to let all that goodness shine. But being told what to do is a real pain-in-the-tail, so I wouldn't do that to Johnny. He can do whatever makes him happy, because at the end of the day, he's still the same endearing buck I fell in love with.

I believe you only get one shot at the whole love thing; that's just the kind of doe I am. Before I laid eyes on Johnny, I could barely be bothered with guys. So now I'm back to square one—and staying there, though I'll admit I'm partial to certain qualities that I still relish.

That's sort of a problem when you're a girl who's friends with the most popular mammal in Zootopia...Mayor Horse, of course! His approval ratings are through the roof, and that's not just political mumbo-jumbo. It's true; I read it in Mammals, the most reputable pop culture mag out there! (Granted, Gazelle—and even WildeHopps—aren't far behind, but still, that's pretty impressive in my book.)

But enough about the hype. If I had to pick one thing I like best about him—and that's not an easy task—it's that he really, truly appreciates you. He doesn't judge, he just meets you where you're at, and he lives in the moment and listens. You always know where you stand with him.

That's why I've told him all this about Johnny at one point or another. Usually it's when I'm at work getting ready for lunch, and he'll stop over and join me. Oops...and Sam, ha! Though there are plenty of days when she lunches late and lets me have the Mayor to myself. I know firstpaw that it takes a secure mammal to let admirers—no matter how well-intentioned—hang out with your fella, so I love her for it.

Speaking of...when I finally convinced Sam to occasionally change the station we play at L&P on a regular basis, we agreed on WGRR, the new one with 'middle-of-the-road' tunes. I still remember the day they started playing Johnny's music.

I was sitting at lunch with Mayor Horse, and he was telling me one of his stellar stories—which usually nothing can tear me away from—but when I heard Johnny's voice, I started bawling. I was so proud that he finally got some airplay that it hit me kinda hard...Not only that, but it made me miss him more than usual. Mayor Horse didn't say a word, just held my paw until I calmed down.

Had I not been so overwhelmed, I might have freaked out, because...On the one paw, that's a nice ego boost, but on the other paw, I'd hate for anyone to get the wrong impression...and when you've had a decade-plus affair with a high-profile singer, your reputation kinda takes a hit. But I want to put this on the record: Mayor Horse is my friend...and one of the best I've ever had, if I'm being honest with myself. While I freely admit to fangirling over him at first—complete with a sweet little crush—I'm over it. Well, maybe not entirely...I might be a tiny bit biased. But that's just because he deserves every accolade he gets; he's the perfect gentlemammal.

Nick was just telling me about a book he started reading. Unlike me, it takes a lot to convince that fox to pick up a book, so I wondered what could have piqued his interest. Turns out a few chats with the Mayor have convinced him to read up on male bonding...Awww…! (FYI, if I were you, don't tell Nick you know that about him.)

Anyway...Nick said he read that physical touch is important, even if it's between friends. So I guess it's okay to feel happy that Mayor Horse gave me the kind of reassurance that he did. Good—because every time I think of it—and all the little things he does for me—I smile. You can't put a price on that.

Eight

It was just another day at L&P...or was it? A melancholy mustelid made his way into the shop, murmuring to himself with a reverence reserved only for nostalgia. “Ah—I've missed this place.”

The tinkling bell on the door caused Officer Judy Hopps, who'd been casually nibbling a carrotcake muffin, to perk up her ears. Even Officer Nick Wilde, hostile to whoever dared interrupt his break, craned his neck in curiosity. “Is that…?! Crimini, it is!”

Unable to believe the sight before her, Judy spoke softly. “Phinn?” At the sound of his name, the ferret looked up, smiled, and said, “Sort of.” Judy and Nick exchanged confused glances before the tod waved him over.

“Grab a seat!” The ferret seemed pleased.

“Thank you, Officer Wilde; don't mind if I do.”

“It's Nick,” the tod answered easily. The two shook paws; then the fox finally asked the burning question. “How was that little trek of yours?”

“Quite lovely, thank you.” Recalling her last conversation with the quasi-fugitive ferret, Judy followed up with,

“Was it everything you hoped it would be?” She inquired gently, brightly, because she knew a thing or two about going for one's dreams. Smiling fondly, the ferret responded,

“All that and more, Judy, all that and more. In fact, you might be interested to know that 'Phinneas' isn't actually my real name.” He chuckled as the two officers, clearly startled by this pronouncement, did their best to school their features into something resembling politeness.

“Don't be ashamed...I was as surprised as you are! My real name is—”here, he glanced around furtively, seemingly self-conscious “--Hamilton.”

Nick couldn't contain his mirth. “Ha, ha, ha—Hamilton?!” Judy gave him a stern glare, which he proceeded to ignore as he pressed on. “You do know you're a ferret, not a pig, right? Or are you looking to make it big on the Great White Way?!” Their guest gave a good-natured guffaw before waving off the jests with a practiced paw. To a flustered Judy, he offered,

“Oh, it's nothing I haven't heard plenty of times already...which is just as well, because I like being Phinn.”

Even as he eschewed his rightful moniker, that day Nick and Judy noticed something about the once-flighty ferret. He seemed—relaxed, refreshed, more self-assured--and though he had adopted a more genteel manner of speech, he was more willing than ever to be a part of their friendly fold….and they found that they were very much looking forward to having him.

Nine

Judy and Nick were 20 minutes out from the weekend. Twenty minutes; that's all. Today had been an agonizingly slow patrol. Nothing happened...Literally, nothing. Technically, they should be glad—no news is good news (right?) and it must be a sign that they were doing their jobs pretty darn well. But today they paid the price of being bored out of their minds. Nick in particular couldn't wait to call it a day, kick back, maybe watch a pawball game…

“Nick! Graffiti at 11 'o'clock!” Judy's voice—and the jerk of the cruiser as she careened to a stop—jostled him back to reality. He turned to her, the beginnings of a grin around his muzzle.

“So tell me—are all rabbits such bad drivers?” There was a pause, and the next thing he knew—Screeeeeeeech! Well, at least he wasn't holding a pawpsicle this time.

“FYI, Slick,” Judy said, her expression a grimace hinting at a smile, “I wasn't looking to set you up. Today's been—you know—so I wasn't expecting anything, and it startled me. Sorry.” Nick returned the grin.

“Apology accepted, Fluff. Now, what gives?”

“It's over there, on the side of that building. Come on, I'll show you.” Exiting the cruiser, they stepped onto the sidewalk, and an anxious Judy bounded ahead. Warily, Nick set his stride to keep up. They rounded the corner, and then…

There, in the otherwise drab alley, was a cluttered assortment of paint buckets and spray cans. Each housed a hue of paint in bright pastel or neon, and it appeared this palette had been used recently, as there were brushes and rollers strewn around with shiny dabs of fresh paint in their wake. The officers' eyes traveled from the array of art supplies to the work itself. As they took in the sight, Judy gasped, and Nick gnashed his teeth. The words,

I LOVE HERB H. HORSE

were rendered on the wall, stretched along nearly the entire length. It was something of a masterpiece.

Aside from being mildly impressed with the artistry, Nick was not amused. “I have a bad feeling about this, Carrots.” Turning to him, paws on hips as she surveyed the damage, the rabbit's eyes widened slightly.

“Why? It's just a political statement. We see stuff like this all the time.”

“Trust me, Fluff, I know a thing or two about vandalism.” Judy relaxed a little, now narrowing her eyes at him.

“Do tell.”

“Graffiti is like—hmm—Well, it's like animojis. It's about symbols. Heck, some mammals make an entire series of paintings, and the whole thing's an allegory.”

“Mmm, listen to you, smart guy,” came Judy's jibe; clearly, she wasn't convinced.

“The point is, graffiti is a kind of shortpaw. You don't write things out. If it were political, they would've stuck in a heart, like on the bumper stickers.” Judy seemed skeptical, but he had her attention.

“And…?”

“And,” Nick concluded, “Notice how it says 'love'--straight up l-o-v-e. I think,” he went on grimly, “we have ourselves a stalker.”

Judy just stared at him, suddenly fearful, and stood stock still. “You...what?!”

“Think about it. We're two blocks from L&P, five blocks from City Hall. This is the part of town the First Couple frequents. Our perp probably has a crush on the Mayor...” Nick had the audacity to turn to his partner and wink, “...Because who doesn't, right? And she wants to be noticed.”

“I hope you're wrong, Nick.” They weren't trading barbs anymore; Judy truly meant it.

Snapping on some rubber gloves, Nick sidled up to the wall, swiping at the paint with a practiced claw. It came off in a viscous clump; like the splatters, it had obviously been drying for a short time, but hadn't completely set. Interesting.

“Nick, look!” Judy grabbed his arm and pointed; there, alongside the letters, was a purple splotch in the shape of a...giant butterfly?! He'd never seen a butterfly that size. Either this was a top-notch artist, or…He went in for a closer look.

Aha! Chalk. This was a lousy artist who couldn't color in the lines and had to trace stuff to make herself look good. But where does one get a giant butterfly? The museum? Just then, he heard Judy murmur, “Huh...” He whirled around to face her.

“Whatcha got, Carrots?”

“These...” She indicated a cluster of smaller butterfly shapes. Scanning the wall for clues again—from one side to the other—he noticed that said smaller shapes were scattered liberally around the declaration. He zeroed in on them, his scrutiny intense.

“These are too pointy to be butterfly wings.” For the first time since they'd started this insane investigation, Judy laughed. Nick felt relieved...until he realized he'd actually said those words out loud.

“So you're an expert on butterfly wings, too?”

“Can it, Carrots.” But he smiled. Meanwhile, Judy couldn't be sidetracked for long.

“Something about those prints look familiar...If you squint, they almost look like...”

“Elephant ears!” Nick and Judy exclaimed as one.

Both knew that an actual elephant, even a small one (or Finnick undercover, Nick thought wryly) was too big (or too ornery) to pull off such a stunt. But he and Judy had recently met two sisters, thick as thieves and impish as elves, who could easily pass for elephants. Nobody knew what they really were, and the girls liked it that way. They had also expressed interest in meeting Zootopia's main mammal. Mystery solved.

Or was it? Judy didn't think so...in fact, she looked distraught. “They're just kits, Nick. They're playful, but they're not capable of this. I bet...” Her voice trailed off as she tapped her foot, lost in thought. “I bet an older kit talked them into it. Maybe even bribed or,”--she winced-- “threatened them.” Nick pulled off his gloves and put an arm around her.

“Bribe, maybe. Threaten? No way. They're tough as nails; nobody could forcibly wrangle those two and live to tell the tale.” Judy, still uncertain, returned Nick's embrace, then moved to pace uneasily, ears droopy, eyes downcast.

“I don't know, Nick...” Neither did he, but he'd meant what he'd said; he had a hunch they were safe and sound.

“Hey!” Nick's ears perked up at Judy's sudden shout. “I found something!” He raced over to join her among the paint supplies. “Tire tracks!” Sure enough, they were.

“Getaway car?” Judy shook her head.

“This alley is too small. They could almost be from my jokemobile,” she grinned.

“What're you saying, Carrots?” Nick smirked.

“Relax, Slick. I already confessed, remember?”

“Gee—no, Carrots, I don't. I get publicly humiliated by my darling intended pretty often.”

“I could say the same of you, beloved betrothed.” Judy batted her eyelashes playfully as she spoke, but she clearly wore the look of love as she met Nick's eyes; it was complete with a seductive smirk, which her fox mirrored as he said, “When you think about it, the only one who didn't confess is...”

“Hannah!” Yet again, they spoke as one.

There was no doubt about it; they had their answer. The hapless hare was a staunch supporter of the Mayor. Notoriously shy, she didn't give a fig about politics, but it was plain to everyone that she thought Herb was among the most marvelous mammals she'd ever met.

“So now what?” Judy said, looking uncharacteristically glum. “She's working today. We can't just barge in there and embarrass her in front of Sam; she's our friend.” Meanwhile, a small smile was making its way across Nick's muzzle.

“Down, Carrots. Don't worry; there's no reason to book her over this. It's nothing major, just her first—and I have no doubt only—offense. It's a speck on an otherwise spotless record. So she'll be fine. But we can play a little trick on her to get her to play nice...” Judy gaped at him, confused. “Just follow my lead, Fluff. It'll be fun.”

A few minutes later, the bell above the door at L&P tinkled softly, signaling Nick and Judy's arrival. As they waved to Sam, making their way to a table by the window, Nick remarked casually—though loud enough for all to hear--“Crimini, Carrots, what a day today was, eh? Two burglaries, a high-speed chase, and,” (he laughed lightly) “how about that vandalism over on Mane Street, huh?”

Across the room, bent intently over a counter full of soon-to-be-decorated cookies, Hannah's ears twitched. But otherwise, she didn't move a muscle. “Yeah, it was crazy. I sure could go for a carrotcake muffin right now. And maybe a hot carob.”

“Good idea, Carrots. Make mine a blueberry and a lemon iced tea, will ya? I have to use the little tod's room. Be right back.”

“Okay.” Judy had no idea what he was up to. As it turned out, he didn't really need the bathroom; what he needed was a phone booth.

~

Nick returned to find his snack waiting for him; he sat down and dug in, chatting with Carrots as though nothing had happened. A few minutes went by, and the overhead bell chimed again...This time, the Mayor made his entrance. He strode over to the table where Judy and Nick sat, greeting the fox with a pat on the shoulder.

“There he is—the honorable Officer Wilde. Good to see you my friend.” With a smile for Judy, he added, “Looking great as always, Miss Hopps.”

“Thanks, Herb.” Judy returned the smile...and, out of the corner of her eye, caught Hannah watching them.

“Nick, you wanted to show me something?”

“Yeah, I did, actually. It's a few blocks from here.” Judy noticed that, at Nick's words, Hannah tensed.

“Well, I don't want to interrupt your downtime...” Herb insisted. Nick waved away his concern.

“This won't take long. Sam, sorry to be such a pain-in-the-tail, but you might want to see this too.” Hannah winced; Sam, though, seemed unfazed.

“No problem, Nick. Hannah, can you hold down the fort for a few, please?”

“S-sure, Sam.” The bunny smiled.

“Thanks. I didn't mean to startle you.”

“No big deal.” The words were just above a whisper.

“Hey, Herb, did you bring your bodyguards?”

“Always do,” he answered, looking more than a little baffled.

Nick lead Herb, Sam, and Judy to the door; the latter left last, surreptitiously glancing back inside. Hannah was gone.

“Voila,” Nick presented the graffiti with a grin, a flourish...and a hint of an atrocious accent. “The newest addition to the tres chic Mane Street art collection.” For once, the usually outspoken Sam was speechless. Herb, though, was awed.

“Wow, that's...pretty impressive.” Even he didn't know what to say.

“We think a stalker did it,” Nick said, then immediately regretted his bluntness when Sam blanched...He should've let her in on the jig, too. But it wouldn't be long now…

“It wasn't a stalker, it was me!” Bingo. For such a small hare, Hannah had a surprising set of lungs on her, because her voice reached them before she did, shaking with sadness and fear. She came to an abrupt stop in front of the two cops, confessing, “I-I e-even had Molly and Megan help decorate, and get to the spots I couldn't reach. They told me they'd do it because you guys promised them they could meet Mayor Horse someday, and they wanted to make something nice for him. I'm so sorry.”

Next, speaking to the small crowd, she continued in a tone that, though it still quavered, was laced with conviction. “I was reading an amazing book of essays; it's called “Remaking Mammalhood”. The importance of friendship is a big theme. That really spoke to me, because I've always felt that friendship doesn't get enough credit. It's either less than romance, or it's on its way there.” Judy and Nick exchanged glances and guilty smirks...after all, they knew what it felt like to make that leap. “If not that, then it's all about 'who you know' in business.” She sighed, weary but not yet ready to back down. “Sure, Sam is my boss, and I'm positive that Mayor Horse is an actual prince among mammals--but, first and foremost, they're my friends.” Pleased at having said her piece, Hannah finished, “Friendship is rarely valued for its own sake; I want that to change.”

To Hannah's astonishment, her impromptu speech garnered applause from her (inadvertently) captive audience...First WildeHopps, then Herb and Sam, and even the two bodyguards who had tagged along. One of the latter, a moose named Bruce, smiled and said, “You make a good point, Miss. My daughter...She's about your age, and she's all wound up over some pop star she has a crush on.” He chuckled fondly. “I don't even remember his name...Sonny Sneed, or something like that. Evidently he makes all the girls crazy with his Outback accent.”

Hannah gasped, her mouth set in a grim line, and murmured under her breath, “Johnny Reid.” Bruce grinned, unaware of his misstep. “That's the one!” Undaunted, the hare sidled up to Sam, lowering her voice. “It hurts to think someone might try to steal your guy,” she admitted. “I'm really sorry, Sam. Can you forgive me?” Sam laughed, stealing a glance at Herb and rolling her eyes.

“Hannah, this one's fanclub has a waiting list miles long.” It was hard to tell if she was joking, or if her comment was closer to an actual statistic; Sam being Sam, it easily could've been either. “At least you're trustworthy; if you want to put friendship on the map, I'm with you. I'll make it my next initiative. So, yes, you're forgiven.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Giving the bunny a hug, she moved on to face her muse.

“Hi, there,” he said with a smile. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I'm a hare of very little means,” she told him solemnly. “I wanted to make a grand gesture, and show you how special you are.” The bravado of moments ago was gone, replaced by a humble hare who had a vast creative mind and near-nonexistent nerve.

In fact, what little she had was fraying by the second, but before she could beat a hasty retreat—not at all like her where the Mayor was concerned—he knelt down to her level and wrapped her in a reassuring hug. “Thank you, my friend.”

WildeHopps watched as Hannah hugged him back: cautious, eager, relieved. Afterward, Nick noted, “You also have very little mean, pal...In fact, I don't think you have a bad bone in your body.” She seemed bolstered by the fox's belief in her.

Reflecting on this resolution later, at first she had looked, Nick thought, like a deer in the headlights. (Everyone knows that deer are anxious drivers and therefore hate rush hour.) Neither he nor Judy blamed her for being so guarded at that moment, because, on the whole, it was that very quality which saved her from being tempted by a life of crime.

At least this is what Nick said to Judy as they sat in his apartment that evening. But, in actuality, Judy agreed only with the idea the Hannah had acted wisely post-incident. As for Nick himself, he was sprawled on the couch with his bunny beside him, luxuriating in the act of finally putting his feet up. “Poor Hannah,” he went on, “I'm glad she didn't do anything rash. That hare wouldn't last a day in the pokey. But,” he conceded, “she does have good taste when it comes to the stronger sex.” Judy barely had time to register this rude remark before he added, “especially the time she had a crush on a certain roguishly handsome fox cop.”

Judy didn't know where to begin; as much as she wanted to berate him, that wasn't as much fun. So instead, she said, “Hannah's better off on the straight and narrow, though...You said so yourself!”

“That I did,” Nick agreed, smug.

“Hannah likes nice guys.” At Judy's observation, Nick merely nodded and shrugged.

“Whatever floats your boat.”

“But, you know, Officer,”--her voice dropped on the latter word as she trailed the tips of her claws up his chest, grabbing his collar with a light yet forceful tug. “I like rogues.” Nick grinned, his voice suddenly deep with desire.

“All rogues, or—ahem—just me?”

“You're right, I'm picky. I can do without all of 'em, except...You? Yes, please.” Just like that, Nick's pondering of pawball went out the window. He wasn't at all sorry to see it go...Tonight, he had better things to do.

Ten

Nick breezed through the door of L&P, glad to be back to his regular routine. Yes, you heard it here: the fox known for putting up the front of a lazy no-'count actually enjoyed structure. Occasionally. And definitely depending on what for.

He'd spent Crittermess Eve with his mom, as had been their tradition during his long stretch on the streets. On Crittermess morning, after luxuriating in some shut-eye and a leisurely breakfast, he took the train down to Bunnyburrow to spend the night with Carrots and her clan.

Nick chuckled softly, recalling the state of the Hopps' living room when he'd arrived. Judy had tried to head him off from so much as stepping paw in there, but it was a wasted effort. He'd strolled in, stopped in his tracks, silent—and then burst out laughing at the absurdity of the sight before him.

They had just finished exchanging gifts, Judy explained, and neither she, her mother, or any of her older siblings had yet found the time to clean up. Nick's only reply was a low whistle; how anyone could even begin to tackle the waist-deep sea of wrapping paper, ribbons, crepe paper, and glitter was beyond him.

Needless to say, the vacay had been a blast, and he hadn't wanted it to end. Nor was he in any big hurry to get back to Chief Buffalo Butt, the bane of his existence in blues. So what had he missed most about getting back into the groove? This place.

Nick had been a regular at plenty of places before—he was somehow acquainted with everyone in the city, after all—but that was just schmoozing...blathering about stuff of little or no substance with mammals you didn't give a fig about...and there may or may not have been hustling involved.

But here? Herb and Sam were high-class mammals, yet they had no problem putting more than a little elbow grease into L&P, their very own “side-hustle” (as Nick liked to say). And right now, as he caught a lip-lick-worthy whiff of a certain savory scent in the air, Nick was glad the L-Hs had exceptional ambition.

“Quiche, here I come!” The last time Nick had tasted one of Herb's almost-famous quiches had also been the first, when the equine was experimenting with recipes to use in a new line of L&P frozen foods that was in the works. Sam had been toying with the idea for years; she had, after all, successfully lobbied to have Lapin Farm produce sold at every major grocery store in the city. That, coupled with the fact that she ran an in-demand bakery, gave her reason to believe that such a line would stick around. Still, as much as she wanted to share her sumptuous (in taste only, of course) sweets and such with mammals in the suburbs and beyond, business was booming, which didn't leave much time for the negotiating side of it. So, it seemed fitting that her doting husband—as supportive of her endeavors as she was of his—should, in the meantime, help out by tooling with and fine-tuning some of the recipes.

Initially, the quiche on which the fox had fervently feasted was made with crimini mushrooms (Nick's favorite, which accounted for the word's distinction as his most-used cuss). Sniffing around the shop, his nose ascertained that—soy milk cheese, and (another sniff)--scallions--were on the menu today. Excellent. Nick grinned as he recalled how, as a kit, no major television sporting event was complete without his dad's onion queso dip. Cheese and onion—of any variety, really—had to be one of the most amazing flavor combinations known to mammalkind. This, then, was his lucky day!

Nick's eyes zeroed in on Herb, who was making his way to a table, coveted pastry was clasped between two potholders. Once Herb sat himself—and the dish—down, Nick took that as his cue to move in on the mouthwatering meal.

“Hey there, Hoss!” Nick had recently decided that this was the perfect—well, nickname—for Herb, and he made sure to add just a hint of western accent to his usual drawl. Herb turned and smiled at the fox, though his eyes held a touch of startled amusement.

“Leave it to Nick Wilde to make a memorable entrance. Good to see you, my friend!”

“Back atcha, pardner.” Nick sidled up to the table, dropping the western act, all his senses focused intently on the quiche. “Once again, I just happen to come in here when you're whipping up quiche, which means, my friend...” The reciprocated sentiment, though sincere, was accompanied by a pointed look, “...That, once again, you haven't given me an official invite to taste-testing. I'm insulted.” It was impossible to tell to what degree the fox was joking...Nick being Nick, it could go any which way.

“I'm sorry,” Herb said, his tone imbued with genuine remorse, “but I know you have a crazy schedule, so I didn't want to impose.”

“Y'all are too good to me, Hoss.” Nick had reverted to the western accent, but the warmth that crept into his tone was anything but disingenuous. “Yer always lookin' out fer yer fella critters. Now, I don't mean no disrespect, but don't ya reckon that's more like punishin' me than doin' me any good? On account a I love me some quiche, and my cranky ol' buffalo sheriff done get madder than a nest 'o' hornets when I slack off.” Nick winked, suggesting that was exactly what he hoped to accomplish.

Herb smiled. “Well said, Nick—accent included. But—and I've been around significantly longer than you, my friend—I have no doubt that, despite your differences of opinion when it comes to the Chief, you respect him, and you love your job. So, you see, Nicholas: By not tempting you with treats, I was simply doing you a favor.”

For a minute there, Nick managed to hide his disappointment behind a faux-snarl. “Whoa; them's fightin' words.” Narrowing his eyes, he quipped, “This town ain't big enough fer the two of us.” Then, with a deep breath of defeat, he slumped down into the chair opposite Herb. “Scratch that—it is. And you're right—as usual.” He spoke in his own voice, feigning annoyance.

“But this quiche…?” Nick snagged a fork from the canister off in the corner of the table. “Is it big enough for the two of us? That remains to be seen.” Cutting into the delicate pastry, his face lit up to find the inside still steaming. Taking a careful bite, he soon pronounced, “Nope, I don't think it is.” They both laughed. As it turned out, Nick did deign it reasonable to share with Herb, since...They were friends, first of all. He had just shared some solid insight. So too, Nick knew, had Herb been the one who ultimately agreed to share...it was his masterpiece, after all.

When he'd finished his portion of pastry, Nick snatched a napkin, swiped at his mouth, and said (not wanting to omit the western accent that he felt ought to go with it), “Mr. Mayor, I do declare, you surely whip up the finest quiche in this here town...or any other, I reckon.”

Herb was silent at first, but the smile on his face said plenty. But, then—Nick's stint as a hustler meant that he'd seen, or heard, more or less everything, and you'd be hard-pressed to surprise him. But, rest assured, he was definitely not anticipating the next words from Herb.

“Thank ya kindly, Nicholas; that's a mighty nice thing ta say.” This from the horse, spoken with a western flair, to boot. Somewhere in the recesses of the shop, Hannah let out a bark of laughter.

“I'm with her on that,” Nick said, though his expression remained passive save for the slight smirk tugging at his lips. “Straight from the horse's mouth,” he observed dryly. “I like it.”

“I hope you know that said admiration—of humor and otherwise—is mutual,” Herb told him, smiling. Did Nick know that? Yes, yes he did. And that much he would say. But he would never admit what a charge he got out of it. There'd been a time, after all, when he could've counted on one paw the mammals who would take him seriously, the ones who believed that he was more than just a hustler. Joining the ZPD helped that number rise steadily, but no matter how many mammals placed their trust in him...Herb was at the forefront of a list of few to whom he would openly give his trust.

Naturally, Nick tried to hide these considerations with comedy. Emulating the announcers from those sports matches of his youth, he went all-out. “Ladies and gentlemammals—from the ZPD's stalwart steed, to the city's most polite politico, and now, direct from L&P...The Scal-lion Stal-lion…!”

“And the crowd goes wild…Ahhhh!” Even without Nick's imitation of the mammalian masses, Herb got his share of encouragement; Hannah's voice rang out from the back of the shop-- “Yaaaaay!”--and Sam chuckled fondly.

“Nobody does it better,” she said, quoting an old Carly Simian song. Herb was pleased—if a bit flustered—by all the attention.

“And, you, Nick,” he said at length, finally regaining his bearings, “Are a veritable rapscallion.” He smiled. “Granted, you do have that charm thing going for you. You're quite the strapping young tod, too. In fact, I'll bet that whenever you're within ten feet of a certain lady leporine, she gets all...” Here, Herb raised an eyebrow suggestively. “...Hot to trot.”

No guy but Herb could turn the tables on him like that without the fox putting up a fight. The horse was, on many fronts, so quiet and unassuming; it was easy for some—like Nick—to forget that he possessed an often outrageous sense of humor that belied that reserved demeanor. Still, the fox was glad that his friend couldn't see him blush bright red beneath his fur. Herb only shrugged and said, with the quick bravado that made him renowned among friends, “That's just a little thing we horses say if ever we find we need to talk about”--another eyebrow-waggle-- “getting it on in polite company.” Yes, Nick had heard of—maybe even used—this phrase that originated with equines. But hearing Herb say it didn't make it any less shocking...in fact, if anything, that made it more so. Which, in turn, made the whole situation...Hilarious. Nick burst out laughing.

“You might be right, buddy,” Nick finally said, pulling himself together. “Maybe I do have something to look forward to tonight. Except how am I supposed to seduce the bunny now?” He held a paw up to his maw, blew, and sniffed, thus answering his own question. “Yep—onion breath. I need a mint.”

Sam, snickering slightly at Nick's predicament, composed herself long enough to call from behind the counter, “Well, Romeow, I'll do you one better; I have a fresh-baked batch of mint carob chip cookies...A few of those might help.” Nick's expression brightened.

“Not a bad idea, there, Sam. I'll take a few for the road, and some extra for dessert when I make Carrots a romantic dinner tonight.” Striding purposefully to the counter, Nick bought a dozen or so biscuits, crammed a few in his mouth, and, realizing he had to get to work pronto, said a hurried, muffled, but sincere, “Goo'bye, fanks, guys,” and headed out. So what if the day ahead was lousy? He might get lucky later.

Eleven

As told by Hannah Hare

Just the other day, I was reading an article in Mammals about Jane Fawnda. In the interview, she talks about how romantic love is short-lived, and yet she has lots of fulfilling love in her life that isn't romantic. I haven't really followed her career, but I know she's a big star; it was nice to see someone with major clout give voice to something I've believed my whole life.

When I was a leveret, I imagined that love and fairy tales were one and the same; some prince saves you from squalor, and you ride off into the sunset towards a fanciful castle where you live, loved and cared for, for the rest of your days.

I was smart enough—if I do say so myself--to know that most love doesn't manifest itself so, well, magically...but that didn't stop me from enjoying that idea. I didn't necessarily want that to happen to me—I'm not into froufrou or fuss—but I did think that a guy should treat me like a princess, even if I wasn't one.

Johnny did that. You'd think that being a big-shot crooner would make a guy act in grand gestures—and the fact is that plenty do, just not Johnny. But he'd buy me flowers and candy, and open doors for me every chance he got (and not just because of my condition...if there was an automatic opener on the door, he'd get it anyway). I could go on all day about how good he was to me, but the point is, these myriad little things meant more to me than any grand gesture ever would.

Then there's Nick. Sure, we were never really an item, but after I broke up with Johnny...for awhile there, I had my eye on him. He's not exactly the nonpareil of chivalry, but he does have his moments. He's been known to kiss my paw a few times, and offer me his jacket if it gets too cold. (Conversely, I never let him use it to cover puddles; I like riding through them.) All in all, Mrs. Wilde raised him well.

But, as much as I adore both of those fellas, I wouldn't dream of asking Johnny or Nick to be my plus-one at my 10^th Zootopia High reunion this weekend; not when there's so much at stake. It's like this: I haven't seen any of my classmates since my accident. Sure, we keep in touch on Furbook occasionally, but it's casual, and my profile picture is from the waist up, so you can't see my wheels. Johnny is always low-key, so I doubt they saw me in the tabloids. But even if they did...I'm still figuring out what life post-break-up looks like, and that makes me sorta self-conscious. So, if I want to ensure that the ZHS reunion is a success (yes, please), I'll invite the one mammal who makes me feel like I won the lotto...Mayor Horse!

We're great friends, so I'm sure he wouldn't mind...There's just one problem. The last time I saw him, I flat-out confessed that I'd had a long-distance crush on him before we officially met. I've cleaned up my act since then, so I shouldn't sweat it...But I'm a worrywart, and it so happens that I haven't seen or spoken to him for more than a few minutes at a time. At least he's still talking to me...That's a good sign, right?

So, here I am. With less than two days to go before the big event, I'm a bundle of nerves, holed up at home in front of my computer, trying—unsuccessfully—to distract myself while I wait for him to R.S.V.P. I check my e-mail for the seventh time in three hours (anxious much?), and…There it is!

Hi, Hannah,

This week has been crazy busy, so I'm just now getting a chance to respond to your thoughtful invitation. I would be honored to join you.

Herb

Yay! I'll stop by City Hall on my lunch break tomorrow to fine-tune the arrangements.

~

We're good to go! Once we got those details out of the way, I gave him the rundown on what I hoped to accomplish: explain my accident to my classmates, show them that I'm doing okay, fill them in on what I've been up to, and—most important of all, really—brag about my friend, gallant Sir Horse! (That's my nickname for him.)

He was super-busy (as usual—what a trouper), so I didn't stay long. Besides, I had to get back to work, too—especially since I had convinced Sam to bake a batch of vanilla cupcakes for the party. Plus, cupcakes aren't complete without frosting, so I had to decorate them. It would be the perfect way to show off my skills to my fellow ZHSers! But, I play fair; I told Sam she could take the cost of cupcake labor out of my paycheck.

~

From there, time flew. Before I knew it, I was sitting in the ZHS gym, dressed in a modest pink number that makes me look halfway decent. Sir Horse arrived right on time—and, as if that wasn't enough, greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, saying “You look great.” Awww!

He drew a crowd—just as I knew he would—and soon I was well on my way through my to-do list. The night had just started, but already I was talking more than I do in a week! Everyone was really supportive. So far they've taken lots of selfies with us—which they say are 'cause of me, but are mostly for Mayor Horse, I think. I don't photograph well, so I can't say I blame them.

Well, even if I wasn't a hit, at least my cupcakes were! I'm a wiz with a piping bag. Each cupcake was covered in one of the school colors and a letter, so that, all together, they spelled out 'ZOOTOPIA HIGH'. I'm glad Sam had snapped a picture earlier, because they'd just about been demolished.

Anyway...the whole scene got so intense that Sir Horse left our table to mingle a bit; he knows I don't like to be put on the spot, so he gave me some space. See? What a gentlemammal!

What he didn't consider, though, is that, yes, crowds can be too much for me, but I never get tired of his attention. Still, now that I had a chance to clear my head, I could really relish the moment. Nerves or not, I was bouncing off the walls with excitement up until the moment he went off to socialize.

The festivities remind me of the days when I'd go to charity gigs with Johnny...A mass of merry-making mammals milling about, most of whom were here to see the headliner. It was Johnny then, and Sir Horse now; granted, my friend wasn't an official part of this shindig, but with all the attention he was getting, he should've been.

“You're more popular than I am!” After he got back from his rounds, I wasted no time teasing him about it. He smiled.

“I'm sure you must be mistaken, my friend, so I hardly think that's worth discussing.”

“Awww—always so modest! Okay, let's talk about interpretations of animated cinema...”

By now you've probably figured out that I'm a pop-culture nut. But—at least with Sir Horse—I sometimes use big words to describe it, 'cause it can help prove that such things are worth taking seriously. Recently I'd been mulling over Floatzen, the story of two otter princess sisters--one of whom has a big secret. They grow apart as they get older, but the one thing that keeps them close is the magical snowmammal they built when they were pups. It's not my favorite movie ever, but I like it okay. The one thing about it that I don't get is...The otters can talk (obviously) but their friend the reindeer (or, the more PC 'caribou') can't. (Huh?!) It gets crazier—the snowmammal talks, too. I have nothing against the movie, though. My favorite part is the snowmammal; he's a hugger, like me. I said as much to Sir Horse, and he seemed to enjoy my explanation.

“Thank you for enlightening me, Hannah. An old guy like me can't keep up with all the hot tickets, so I'm glad I have you to keep me posted.” I can't help smiling at that.

“Stop it! You are not old. But I'm happy to help.”

“Speaking of good flicks, have you had a chance to see that documentary on the city?” I shake my head.

“I've been meaning to, but I keep forgetting about it...” I sigh. “My memory is going down the tubes.”

“I doubt that, my friend...But I suppose there is a slight possibility, now that you're old.” I'm on the verge of laughter, but I manage to squeak out,

“That's more like it.” I zip around the table so I can give him a hug.

Yup...according to my powers of self-psychoanalysis, I'm sure I was embracing my inner hugging snowmammal in anticipation of seeing Sir Horse. I do my best to give everyone I care about lots of hugs; that's just the kind of mammal I am. I guess that was the “unwritten” part of my mental list for tonight. So far I'd made good on that, but—whatddaya know?!--Sir Horse had an even sweeter surprise up his sleeve.

A little later, “What A Wonderful World” by Louis Armadillo came on. It's such a beautiful song that I was swaying along in my seat. In fact, I was so swept up in the music that I almost didn't hear Sir Horse ask, “May I have this dance, madam?” I was shocked—though pleasantly so—but, still…

“Wow! Um, I don't...”

“Fear not, my friend. I am nothing if not an innovator.” With that, he carefully lifted me out of my chair. Just like that, we were dancing. I was in such disbelieving delight that I couldn't help laughing. For safety's sake, I figured I should keep it to a minimum...But it wasn't easy.

Sensing my struggle, Sir Horse assured me, “It's fine, Hannah.” He smiled, lowering his voice to the signature mockingly brash register that always left me in stitches. “Remember, I am a stallion. Extremely strong and agile. I once rescued a doe in distress by single-hoofedly fending off a malicious tiger.”

We both knew that another mammal in blue had helped, but in the moment, Sir Horse's account suited us just fine. I beamed, relieved that he'd regained his self-esteem. “You sure did!” That—the act itself, and the account of it—called for another hug.

Yet another song--The Beagles' “In My Life”--began to play, and we kept waltzing our way around the floor. We were still tripping the light fantastic when I heard another favorite tune: “Walkin' On Sunshine”. Thanks to my fantabulous friend, I felt like I was.

Twelve

It was Judy Hopps' third day back at work post-holidays. In typical Judy fashion, she'd put her nose to the grindstone and brought her A-game. But—believe it or not—it had taken her some time to hit that stride.

Why? Well, last year, the holidays had started early. December 9^th had been a brisk winter day, the kind that made mammals want to curl up somewhere warm with a book, a snack, or some friends. That day, Judy was looking forward to two out of three; Sam had invited her and Nick to L&P for a little get-together, complete with refreshments; she'd even closed the shop. The occasion? Herb's birthday!

When WildeHopps arrived, they found that not only had Sam set out an array of delectable confections, but that, she assured them, there would be cake later. The next to arrive was Hannah, who despite her white winter coat—and the purple mammal-made one from L.L. Bear—was wracked by shivers.

“Brrr! Wow, it's cold! B-but there's n-nothing b-better than g-good c-company to w-warm me up f-from the inside out!”

“You are such a sap,” Nick drawled. Hannah grinned in such a way that suggested she knew of the perfect payback for that remark; Nick looked more than a little nervous.

“Just for that, I'm gonna make you sing a solo.” The fox's reaction was what those in his inner circle—especially Judy—called his 'tax-evasion face'; that look of genuine shock he wore when he knew he'd been busted.

Meanwhile, Judy's curiosity was piqued. “A solo?” She spoke with mounting excitement. “You mean, you wrote a song?” Hannah beamed like a leveret.

“Yeah! I wrote a special one for Sir Horse's birthday!”

“That's great, Hannah!” Judy enthused. Then, as an afterthought, “Cheese and crackers! Why didn't I think of that?!” Nick chose that moment to snap out of his fear-induced stupor.

“Now, now, ladies, no fur-pulling.” Hannah and Judy just laughed.

“I'm ready to par-tay!” Clawhauser entered the shop and half-walked, half-danced over to greet his friends.

“It is quite a felicitous day,” agreed Phinneas Fairchild, who'd strolled in behind the cheery cheetah.

“Hey, Phinn,” Nick began, fixing the ferret with a no-nonsense look, “I can appreciate that your galavanting helped you clean up your act, but do you mind speaking English?” Judy flushed with embarrassment.

“Phinn, he didn't mean…!” The mustelid laughed.

“It's fine, Judy. I'm still getting over the culture-clash. I only meant to say that today's special.”

“Hear, hear!” exclaimed Hannah. “And now that we're all here, here”--she paused, giggling at her own joke-- “I'd like us to rehearse the song I wrote.” Sam looked up from wiping the counter; she seemed to be assessing the situation, albeit warily.

“Does this include me?” She wasn't one for public displays of affection. Hannah smiled and shrugged.

“That's all up to you.” After all, Ms. Lapin clearly held Herb's attention regardless, and she knew this. With a smile, she said,

“Let's see what you've got.”

“With pleasure,” Hannah grinned.

It took the gang a good hour and a half to get their harmonies straight, but they did it...And well, too, Hannah thought, but only one mammal could be the judge of that! “Okay, Sam, text him!” Hannah spoke the words in an eager tone that was part laugh, part shout, and all excitement.

“Done! You've got 10 minutes, guys—are you ready?”

“Yeah!” This was said in unison, proving just how much their synchronization had improved.

As promised, Herb strode through the door right on time. “Well, I've cleared my schedule, but it was pretty packed, so I hope it was justified.” He said this laughingly, to no one in particular; being as astute as he was, he seemed to sense that one—or all—of the mammals assembled had something to do with his change in plans.

He first greeted his wife, followed closely by his friends, after which Judy not-so-subtly nudged Nick in the ribs. Briefly giving his fiancee side-eye, he then proceeded to clear his throat—he was stalling, no doubt—and sing the first two lines of “Happy Birthday”; the others joined in for the finale. The guest of honor was genuinely impressed. “You're in very fine voice, today, Nick.” He smiled then, adding, only partially in jest, “Did you lose a bet?” Nick returned the smile (or was his a grimace?):

“Pretty much.”

“And that's not all!” Hannah chimed in. “Here's a little something, to the tune of “Jingle Bells”; it goes like this.” With those words, the usually playful hare morphed into a most staid maestro. “A-one, two, three...”

Dashing, kind, polite—only one horse fits the bill

And if ever you make his acquaintance, you'll get quite a thrill,

Blustering's the norm when you meet bigwigs and such,

So what fun it is to meet this one and find out: not so much!

Herb H. Horse, Herb H. Horse,

It's his birthday today

We have so many reasons

To celebrate him—yay!

When he was a college colt, he couldn't hit his stride

All he really wanted was a sweetheart by his side.

But the horse was hapless and, though he gave it all he got,

The dating game proved hard to play;

Misfortune seemed his lot!

Herb H. Horse, Herb H. Horse,

It's his birthday today

We have so many reasons

To celebrate him—yay!

Now Sam has made his dream

Their story's truly grand…

But when Herb visits L&P

He's second-in-command!

Herb H. Horse, Herb H. Horse,

It's his birthday today

We have so many reasons

To celebrate him—yay!

Bogo took a spill, and left the ZPD

Who could take up his post, and keep it running smoothly?

If you're ever in a bind, you'll find the answer is, of course,

Without a doubt one guy'll help you out, and his name is Herb H. Horse!

Herb H. Horse, Herb H. Horse,

It's his birthday today

We have so many reasons

To celebrate him—yay!

Not a day goes by that Nick doesn't cause a stir;

With all his jokes and jests, he gets in everybody's fur!

But, patient-as-can-be, Herb always sets him straight

Which gives us all the more cause to appreciate…!

Herb H. Horse, Herb H. Horse,

It's his birthday today

We have so many reasons

To celebrate him—yay!

Judy once found herself in need of rapid aide

The fire drill took her by surprise, and she was quite afraid.

What isn't such a shock is who answered her call...

The brave and loyal stallion who can do it all!

Herb H. Horse, Herb H. Horse,

It's his birthday today

We have so many reasons

To celebrate him—yay!

On one fateful day, Hannah was doing fine

Until she almost fell prey to a ferocious feline!

Who sped to her rescue like a gallant knight?

If your guess is Herb H. Horse, hooray! 'Cause you are right!

Herb H. Horse, Herb H. Horse,

It's his birthday today

We have so many reasons

To celebrate him—yay!

Herb H. Horse, Herb H. Horse,

It's his birthday today

We have so many reasons

To celebrate him...

“Yay!” This culminating cheer came courtesy of the composer. Herb, meanwhile, was beside himself.

“That was astounding, everyone! Thank you! Tell me...” he smiled, “To whom do I owe my utmost gratitude for writing that delightful ditty?”

Hannah proudly waved her paw in the air, exclaiming, “Me!” Feeling frisky, she continued to sing out, “Me, me, me, me, me…!” as though practicing musical scales. Herb laughed.

“Well, my friend—in my study of the history of horses, I've become quite well-versed in the original, non-Zootopian lyrics to that song, and—might I say—I much prefer yours.” With those words, the hare was rewarded with a coveted kiss on the cheek.

That small kindness caused all of the memorable moments Hannah had spent with Herb to flash across her mind. She was again reminded of Jane Fawnda, who'd said that the key to all relationships was feeling “seen, safe, and celebrated”. All throughout her life, various parts of that equation had eluded her. Then she befriended Sir Horse, and that changed. It was no wonder she cherished him!

A minute went by, and the accumulation of these thoughts inspired Hannah to make a toast. “To my fellow romantic—in all ways but that one.” At this reference to Hannah's earlier confession, Herb--suddenly visibly shy--smiled, admitting “I'm still trying to digest that.”

Sam chose to toast next. “A votre sante, mon amour.” Judy murmured discreetly.

“Awww!” A curious Nick responded,

“What'd she say?”

“That's French for, 'to your health, my love',” she whispered back. “I'm guessing she used the French so we wouldn't notice she was gushing. Shh!” He promised to keep quiet on that, but otherwise? Nick being Nick, all bets were off. Give a fox a good idea, and chances are he'll want to put it into action.

“My turn,” he said, raising his glass in Herb's direction. “May you always be as healthy as a horse.” Judy groaned at his phrasing, while Hannah and Clawhauser laughed.

Then it was time for Sam to bring out the cake. “Don't forget to make a wish!” advised Hannah, resident kit-at-heart. Herb blew out the candles, and the assembly applauded.

“Another note on the original 'Jingle Bells',” the birthday colt put in, “I won't be lean and lank if you keep spoiling me!” At that, it was Nick's turn to chuckle.

All teasing aside, Herb wasn't accustomed to this much attention, yet the fact that his friends continued to deliver it—to their great joy, it seemed, as much as his—was indeed an affirmation that he'd done something right, whatever that might be.

So, yes, the consensus was abundantly clear...On this day—or any other—Herb H. Horse deserved every bit of the praise and pampering he received. It made sense, then, that this conclusion called for a favorite pastime of the crew. “Group hug!” chirped Clawhauser, and they all huddled happily around their favorite horse. All, that is, except for Sam, who stood on the sidelines patting his shoulder. You heard the hare--that's how they roll!

Thirteen

It was just another day at L&P. Herb had his audience in the palm of his hoof as he regaled them with another witty and wonderful tale. “...And a keg of...” As they were sitting by the window, he spotted a bunny in his peripheral vision. Since his two favorite rabbits were already accounted for, he put two and two together, concluding, “...Grape juice,” just as Bonnie Hopps came through the door, with Stu not far behind.

Clawhauser, who had been an eager participant in the presentation—it was a recollection of their Dartmouse days, after all—was flummoxed for a moment, catching on when Judy’s parents reached the table.

“Oh, yeah, grape juice. That was it!” he agreed heartily, though he chuckled under his breath. “Hi, Mrs. Hopps; how are you?!” he greeted cheerfully; he wasn’t ignoring Judy’s dad, but the buck didn’t seem in the mood to chat. The doe, though, smiled when she saw him.

“I’m doing alright, Benji, how are you?” The cheetah beamed.

“Terrific!”

“Mom! Dad! You didn’t tell me you were coming!” Judy jumped up from her seat to hug them both at once. “What a nice surprise!” This time, she actually meant it...But Nick didn’t look nearly as happy. He was smiling, sure, but it was his ‘overly-charming hustler’ smile. As Bonnie caught up with the rest of the group, Judy pulled Nick aside, speaking in a demanding whisper.

“Why didn’t you say ‘hello’ to my mother?!’

“Ouch!” Nick rubbed his arm where Judy had yanked him, then continued as if he hadn’t. “Your dad’s in a snit, Carrots. He hasn’t said a word to anyone, and they’ve been here going on five minutes.” Now that he mentioned it, Nick had a point...That was odd; her dad was usually a chatterbox. Still…

“What does that have to do with my mom?” Nick gave her that ‘poor, clueless bunny’ look, the one he’d given her at the outset of the Otterton case...but this time, there was love behind it.

“One, I need to make sure it wasn’t anything I did.” Judy smacked his arm. “Two,” he added, rubbing it thoughtfully, “I gotta figure out whose side she’s on.” Nick was completely confident...until he happened to glance over at the gathering. “Ah, crimini!”

“What?” Judy wanted to know.

“Looks like I’m off the hook, but he’s giving Herb the stink-eye.”

“Why?” Nick shrugged.

“Beats me.” The fox smirked. “For once he’s blameless.” That earned him another smack on the arm before they returned to the table. A now-obviously-frustrated Stu had fixed the Mayor with a stern glare, and they were just in time to hear:

“Is that all you think we are? Bunnies from the boonies?! Psh!” They didn’t know what was more startling: the biting accusation, or the jarringly dismissive sound. “I’ve been called a ‘country bunny’ in worse words plenty of times, but it doesn’t bother me anymore. Say whatever the heck you want about me. But I’ll have you know: suggesting that my family is somehow broken because of the way my wife and I choose to raise our brood…!” Ever since the culmination of those long, lonely months back in Bunnyburrow mid-case, the last thing Judy wanted to do was cause trouble with her parents. But her dad had gone too far—again--and this time, she wasn’t going to walk away.

Instead, she strode purposefully toward the riled rabbit to stand between him and Herb. “Dad, stop.” He backed off, wearing a wounded expression when Judy used a tone that sounded more like a police officer than his daughter. “Herb never said that all bunnies are that way, and he definitely wasn’t talking about us. He was talking about things he’s observed, and has experience with. He’s married to a bunny, remember?” Hearing the reference to herself, Sam looked up from behind the counter and, ever-classy, smiled and gave them a little wave. Judy had no doubt that the doe was secretly on the defense, wary of anyone who dared disrespect her husband. On her part, Judy turned to her equine friend and smiled, letting him know that he was free to say his piece.

“For what it’s worth, Judy is absolutely right. It is never my intention to offend anyone, though I seem to be doing that a lot these days. I was actually attempting to point out that we all have different perspectives, and that’s what makes our community so rich.”

Stu had visibly relaxed now, and a look of humble wonder crossed his features.

“Well, I’ll be darned! That’s pretty much what Jude’s been trying to tell us all along! Isn’t that something, Bon?” The doe nodded; pleased yet weary, it was apparent to nearly everyone present that she’d been trying to get that same point across for some time now. Everyone, that is, except Stu, who was now busying himself with gleeful reflection. “And Gid! Good ol’ Gid.” Upon hearing the other fox’s name, Nick muttered under his breath,

“That good-for-nothing…!” With all her usual discretion, Judy slapped him and snapped him out of it; no one was the wiser, but the tod now had a sore arm. All this happened in the—well, nick—of time.

“And let’s not forget Nick,” Stu added fondly. “Who’d have thought I’d get a fox for a son-in-law...and one I actually like!” As her father chuckled to himself, Judy rolled her eyes.

“Cheese and crackers, Dad! But, see? We’re all in this together. Plus, it sure seemed like you enjoyed Herb’s company at the wedding.” Of course he had! Herb was a decent guy, after all. But—Stu blanched a little—hopefully no one had told Jude how he and the horse had both burst into tears as soon as the limo was out of sight and ended up hugging it out in an effort to console themselves. Sam and Bonnie had looked ever-so-slightly chagrined, but they’d both long since learned to let their husbands’ at times over-the-top displays roll off their backs.

Meanwhile, Judy kept right on talking. “I feel very lucky to be one of those mammals who can say that I married my best friend.” Nick’s ears perked up, earning Judy a genuine smile as he wrapped an arm around her waist. “But—believe it or not, my other best friend runs the city.” Nick’s slight grimace was reflexive, but his smile immediately returned—and brightened when Judy put an arm around his shoulders.

Seeing his daughter’s drive and devotion in full force, Stu knew he had said too much. So as not to embarrass himself—or the Mayor—any further, he spoke carefully. “Having the Mayor at your wedding was really—nice—Jude. And, Mr. Mayor—I’m sorry about all that. Sometimes I get fired up over my family, is all.” Herb smiled.

“Apology accepted, Stu. I understand; I can be the same way about my family—friends, too.” He smiled at Judy and Nick before turning back to the buck. “And please—call me Herb.”

Stu had been meaning to do just that, but he...didn’t feel he had much of a place here. Jude had found these friends all on her own, and made a life for herself in the city...fox and all. But it was the least he could do after...the limo incident.

Fourteen

“This better be good, Hoss.” After more than a year of hyping Weaselton’s documentary on the city—according to hearsay, of all things—Herb had finally invited Nick and Judy, Hannah and Johnny to join him and Sam for a night of scintillating cinema. The equine added that, as all assembled were proud citizens of Zootopia, they might consider the experience professional development of sorts. That was laying the whole ‘mayor’ thing on a little thick for Nick, which was why he’d made that statement in the first place.

“I have no doubt it will be, Nicholas,” Herb replied with a smile.

Hannah glanced at her friend Sir Horse and wished she had half his confidence where the rest of the night was concerned. Ever since WildeHopps’ wedding, having Johnny around as part of their group seemed natural. But tonight was different.

Hannah was usually content to be a loner, a third wheel. But it was going on 4 (far past her chosen curfew), she was dressed reasonably well, and her companions—two married couples—had accepted Johnny as her date.

But they were exes. Exes who should’ve retreated back into the friend zone by now. That fact wasn’t lost on her, but she wasn’t about to spoil the evening with this same old cycle of thoughts. Truth be told, when she’d sat at home getting ready, the thought of a night on the town with all of her favorite mammals--and that one special marsupial, of course—had made her wish she could do cartwheels.

“I’m glad you’re here, darlin’,” she told the latter, lest he feel left out.

“Yeah.” She loved the way he said that word, only now it was weighted by wistfulness, the way it was whenever he recollected the time they used to spend together...or, more accurately, how they spent it. Then, brightly: “I’m glad I could help plan this. I’m really stoked.” Hannah thought it was adorable whenever he said ‘stoked’; still, her mind stalled on something else he’d mentioned.

“You helped plan this?”

“Yeah. The movie isn’t playing in theaters anymore, but I rang some industry friends. They owed me favors.” The playful glint in his eyes nearly made Hannah swoon. “You know...fame stuff,” he teased—and modestly, too. Hannah was in awe.

“Wow! That was so sweet of you, Johnny! Thank you!”

“No worries,” he assured her with a smile. “It was my pleasure. I’m a bit surprised your friend Mr. Mayor didn’t tell you.”

At the mention of his moniker, Herb turned their way...just in time to hear Hannah say, “You kept a secret from me?!” It was a little dramatic, but she was only playing...mostly. To her, ‘secrecy’ and ‘Sir Horse’ didn’t have a place in the same sentence; it just didn’t sound like him.

“It wasn’t a secret in the true sense,” Herb explained. “I thought you might like to hear it from Johnny himself.” Herb smiled. “At least, those are my thoughts in retrospect. We’ve been planning—or attempting to plan—this outing for so long that I could easily have forgotten to tell you. I’m a very busy guy, you know.”

“I know.” It was a fact that Hannah sometimes hated; although she was extremely proud of her friend—and, by extension, the achievements that kept him occupied more often than not--she sometimes wished they had more time to spend together. Her misgivings aside, she was more than happy to take whatever time they did have. She smiled fondly at him. “Don’t worry. I take the good where I can get it.” Sir Horse smiled back.

“So I’ve noticed. You make the best of whatever you do, be it work or play. By the way, I have no qualms about speaking for both Sam and myself when I say that if we had an honor roll for employees, you'd be on it.”

Sam gave an encouraging nod of agreement, adding, “I trust his judgment.” She said so with a smile; though she always took the lead at L&P, she invariably let her husband have the spotlight in any group context. He’d earned the attention, she reasoned, and she found something as simple as soaking up the atmosphere quite gratifying. Hannah—easily overwhelmed in social situations--had observed this dynamic and was glad of it; her two friends were such vibrant forces that she felt she could only keep up with one at a time!

Later that evening, after a pleasant hour or so of action, adventure, suspense, inspiration, and the all-important subtle but potent romance, the group retired to L&P for a private meal. Over quiche and confections, they discussed the film.

“Where do I even begin?” laughed Judy. “I would not have thought of Weaselton as a serious filmmaker, but he might be onto something! I’d sure like to know how he got a hold of that footage from the Carrot Days Festival—maybe our school had it. Other than that...I’m a little disappointed that it glossed over my friendship with Sharla—we’ve been through so much more than those scenes can show you—but, I get it. It’s named for the city, and it absolutely does Zootopia justice. I loved it!” Nick smirked.

“When a cop says that something is ‘done justice’, you know it’s good.” Hannah and Sam groaned at the pun, but everyone laughed just the same. “I second that, especially because the mammal we do see palling around with Carrots is, well...me.” Hannah smiled, shaking her head at the fox.

“Aw, Nick. FYI, it’s not a competition; you’re allowed to have more than one best friend.”

“Yeah, Slick, Judy retorted, “Weren’t you paying any attention to what happened with my dad last week?” But she smiled.

“Ugh—don’t remind me,” Nick moaned, the words muffled as he slouched in his seat, then brought his head to rest on the table. Judy rolled her eyes.

“Over-the-top much?” she teased.

“Sit up straight, Nicholas,” Sam chided, sending the others into hysterics.

“Anyway,” Hannah went on once all had recovered, “I was listening in that day, Judy. I wasn’t eavesdropping or anything, I was just...there.” Judy nodded in understanding. “But I have to say, I admire the fact that you explained that”--here, she smiled at Herb before turning back to the bunny-- “is your best friend, too. I could never admit that.”

“You just did, bestie.” Upon realizing that she’d spoken aloud—and that the horse had just responded in that outrageous and appealing way of his—she blushed profusely, clamping her paw over her mouth. Still, a smile was clearly visible at the corners. Meanwhile, Herb went on, “What?! Doesn’t everyone say ‘bestie’ these days?! Or is that term too hip for an old guy like me?” Everyone laughed; Hannah, beaming now, shook her head in an emphatic, ‘no’.

“Thank you, dearest Hannah—for the distinction as well as the vote of confidence. I cherish your friendship as well.” The two exchanged warm smiles. “But, at the risk of sounding solipsistic: Earlier, when I was vouching for your winning ways—a point with which Sam agreed—it would seem that my wonderful wife neglected to mention my tact.” The table erupted into various tones of “Awww!”--from Hannah’s sentimental, to Nick’s ‘give me a break’--before dissolving into laughter.

“You know,” Nick said at length, “To me, that movie stands out just as much for what we don’t see...a decent mayor.” The fox raised his glass. “To Herb—the greatest guy this town has ever seen.” The answering chimes of convening kitchenware said it all.

Fifteen

Hannah sat morosely at a table by the window, chin propped in her paw, mouth set in a scowl. Though the hare herself was silent, the din of her thoughts was deafening. “You’re looking pensive, my friend...Missing Johnny again?” She jumped, not having heard the Mayor behind her. “Sorry,” came his considerate tone.

She waved off his concern with a smirk and went on as though nothing had happened. “No,” she replied casually—though seeing Johnny would do her a whole lot of good right about now; there was nothing like the koala’s cuddles to ease her tension. It was almost too bad he wasn’t visiting this week… ‘almost’ being the operative word. As far as she was concerned, a little bit of Sir Horse went a long way; she was glad he’d found her here. The bell over the door chimed and sent her thoughts scattering.

“Well, well, well...if it isn’t the horse and the hare.” Nick strolled in and grinned in their direction. Without waiting for a reply, he added, “No time to stay and chat; I’m getting us some sustenance to go. We’ve got a pile of paperwork...” He stood on his tiptoes, stretched his arm up as far as it would reach. “...’bout as tall as you, Hoss.” Sam took his order timely, and soon he was gone. But he’d said plenty.

For starters, his use of the word ‘horse’ was actually an acronym, one he’d invented moments after making that toast ten days ago; since then, he’d dropped it into every conversation he had at L&P. It stood for ‘Harbinger Of Righteous, Sensible Equanimity’. It was obvious to all that Nick thought himself exceedingly clever for coining it...That, and the fact that he sometimes called the stallion ‘Herbinger’ for short. Hannah had to agree with Nick there...Now if only he’d admit that most of that prodigious pile of paperwork was his.

The Mayor must’ve had this same thought, because when he turned to her again, he was smiling. Hannah smiled back, and a snicker slipped into the mix. “That Nick.” Sir Horse shrugged, playful.

“I suppose we can’t all be as studious as you, Hannah. So…how may I be of service, madam?” He watched her with a discerning gaze, as though he knew a secret. The doe grinned as she grasped the humor in that. He was, in fact, aware of every secret to her name...not that she had many. Only two. “How nice of you to ask, Sir Horse. Have a seat.” He did.

“I’m sad about the whole ZOOm thing. I love that interview, but I hate that it’s making mammals question your motives. It hurts me.” The Mayor was caught unawares.

“You don’t need to worry on my behalf,” he told her, though he was visibly moved.

“Um, yes I do,” she stated; the earnest speech and accompanying nod of her head made her seem leveret-like, but she didn’t care. “That’s what friends are for.” It was rare for the Mayor to be struck silent, but such was the weight in those few words.

The bell on the door chimed again, and both looked up. Bruce approached the counter, smiling at Sam. “I’m here for my rations. Zeke has the door.” Sam allowed both of her husband’s transient bodyguards a pastry ‘on the house’ whenever they were on-site. She figured they could use the boost for their frequent sojourns around the city.

Bruce selected an apple cinnamon muffin and strode, content, to where the pair sat, greeting the hare with a grin. “Good morning, miss Hannah.”

“Hi, Bruce.”

“You don’t sound like your usual self,” he commented, as he had long since grown accustomed to her bouncing off the walls with happiness whenever the Mayor was nearby. For his part, the horse just now noticed how tired she was, namely because he’d noted the same pattern the moose had. Still, the oversight was no fault of his own; Hannah was adept at hiding malaise when the need arose. So it was no surprise that she gave the former a mere four-word answer. “ZOOm made me sad.” Bruce chuckled in understanding.

“You and me both. But I’ll tell you something...Did Herb here ever mention that we were enrolled in the ZPA together?” Hannah brightened.

“No.” But her tone invited Bruce to do the honors.

“If you’re ever living a nightmare in the name of landing a dream, this is the guy you want with you. I wanted to be in the ZPD since I was a calf. I figured it would take a lot of work, but I thought I knew what I was in for.” Bruce shook his head fondly at the memory. “It was intense. I couldn’t believe I’d inflicted this on myself. And then Herb shows up, and...” Clearly the recollection impressed the moose to this day. “He became the unofficial leader of our dorm. We called him ‘Coach’.” Hannah beamed.

“Yup, that sounds about right.”

“When we graduated and got our assignments, I was bummed that I’d end up with Precinct 5. I was really hoping to return the favor on the field. Now, I may not be as skilled as him at spinning yarns, but there’s a point to this: no matter how much you might want to, you can’t fight battles for your friends. But you can be ready and raring to help ‘em when they need it.”

“And here we are. I left the ZPD for a government gig, and the next thing I know…?” He looked over at Herb and smiled. But it faded just as quickly, and he added, straight-faced… “First time in years I haven’t wanted to punch a wall.” Hannah bit back a grin.

“On that note, gotta run.” He headed for the door. His hoof was on the handle before he turned to say, “Coach, you’re lucky to have me here; I’ve got brains, brawn...the whole package.” So saying, he stepped out.

“Sounds like somebody stole your sense of humor, my friend.” Hannah smiled at the bemused Mayor, her voice an excited squeak.

“I taught him everything I know.” His modest smile belied that statement, yet Hannah chose to say,

“I bet you did. You’re good at that.” She paused, thoughtful. “I think I have another secret.” Mock shock crossed the Mayor’s face.

“You’ve scandalized me enough as it is. I don’t know if I can take any more…!” This time, her pout was playful.

“C’mon! One more little one for me…? Please?” Sir Horse sighed, feigning defeat. Then,

“Go for it.” Hannah leaned across the table and, speaking in a conspiratorial whisper.

“I despise politicians. But not you...You’re special.” She added that qualifier in her normal voice, as casually as one would comment on the weather.

“For once, my friend—may I ask why?”

“Sure. I had a chance to think it over this time.” Again, her input was delivered in four words. “They impose, you impart.” She could think of no better way to say it.

But judging by the gratitude in her friend’s gaze, she’d made a good call...For all their differences, mayor and hare were cut from the same cloth in all the best ways. They’d shared a lot over the years--joy and pain, milestones and memories—but the core of their rapport all came down to this:

They liked to keep things simple.

Sixteen

As told by Hannah Hare

Prologue

Tell me if this sounds familiar: ‘You’ve got to remind yourself why you’re in this relationship’. If you’re like me, you’ve probably heard it at least once but can’t remember where—but you know it had something to do with romance.

Well, rest assured that I’m not the type of mammal who gives romantic advice; you’ve heard what happened in that department. But friendship tips? That’s something I’m qualified to give. So...that little saying I mentioned can apply there, too. Don’t believe me? I’ll prove it.

Without further ado, I proudly present a little something I like to call:

The Runaway Horse

Once there was a stalwart stallion who wanted to make the world a better place. So he said to his friend, “I should to do something different for a change.”

“Why?” asked his friend, the hare. “Don’t you like being Mayor?”

“I love being Mayor,” said the stallion. “But that isn’t enough.”

“I am going to become a nurse, just like my mother was, and tend to all the sick and injured mammals.”

“If you become a nurse, just like your mother was, and tend to all the sick and injured mammals, you’ll have long shifts at the hospital, and there won’t be any time to visit the bakery. So every chance I get, I will come and visit you.”

“Or maybe I’ll become a firefighter, just like my father was,” the stallion said. “And bravely rescue citizens from burning buildings.”

“If you become a firefighter, just like your father was, and bravely rescue citizens from burning buildings, I will sit at the window in the bakery waiting for your firetruck to go by, and wave to you for good luck.”

“Perhaps I’ll become a scientist and study biochemistry to prevent another urban epidemic.”

“If you become a scientist and study biochemistry to prevent another urban epidemic, I will volunteer to be a test subject for all your studies.”

“If I become an ambassador to Zootopia, I can travel all over the world to tell others about our great city, and learn about other cultures.”

“If you become an ambassador to Zootopia, traveling all over the world to tell others about our great city, and learning about other cultures, I will write you an e-mail every day and ask for a report.”

“Hmm,” said the horse, “If you would go through all that trouble just for an old gray equine who ain’t what he used to be, I should just stick to being Mayor.”

Epilogue

Okay, so you’ve probably figured out that my conversation with Sir Horse didn’t go exactly like that. Here’s the gist: We were sitting at L&P at lunch. He said he didn’t feel like he was doing as much as he could for the city. I barely believed my ears—he’s in meetings all the time, plus he does plenty of community service. He was thinking about taking on a side-hustle.

I told him (nicely, of course) that was nuts. He has so much on his plate as it is. He’s doing great, and there’s no reason for him to be juggling anything more. I’ve never understood how any mammal could withstand such a workload, let alone one who’s already given the city his all. Besides...I worry about him.

I’ve noticed that it’s so easy for mammals to get wrapped up in what they do. It’s hard to explain, except to say that maybe it happens because the city motto is ‘anyone can be anything’. That’s a great aspiration, but some try so hard to keep up, it might as well be ‘everyone should be everything’.

When it comes down to it, none of that is important. I thought Zootopia knew that already, but apparently it only applied to whether one is a predator or a prey. Everyone takes “Try Everything” way too seriously.

Case in point: If Sir Horse were a scientist, a diplomat, or a civic caregiver, it wouldn’t make any difference to me. No matter what he decided to be, I’d always look out for him, because...He makes me smile. He makes me laugh. (Harder than anyone I ever met, too; when he said the “old gray equine” thing, I laughed so hard that I almost squirted fruit punch out my nose. Note to self-when chatting with Sir Horse, drink at your own risk.) I can tell him anything, and he’ll listen. If I’m upset, he’ll comfort me, and if I’m happy, he’s the one I want to celebrate with. When I trip over my words, forget something, or get so wound up my voice gets squeaky—just be myself, basically--he doesn’t mind.

When he gets carried away with all that ‘can’ and ‘should’, I have to remind myself to look beyond the hype. After all, it has nothing to do with my liking him in the first place. So—after I pushed my juice box out of the way, just in case—I made sure he knew it.

“Remember—it doesn’t matter what you are, my friend, because I’ll always love you for who you are.” He smiled; I could tell he was touched. Still, Hannah Hare on a mission is a lot to take in, so I decided to share some of my lunch with him.

“Have a carrot,” I said.

Seventeen

It was a Saturday, and Hannah was sitting at a table by the window of L&P. She wasn’t working—just whiling away the hours with her favorite marsupial. It felt like she hadn’t seen Johnny for ages—he didn’t come to the city that often, and when he did, he was almost always booked solid doing rallies.

She could barely remember the last time he’d dropped a new album, or even a single (but to be fair, there was no way she’d forget, either—she might as well have been the president of his fan club, and she would, be, too...if he had one). They’d been sitting together talking about everything and nothing, the way they always did. The only difference was that since the break-up, there was one topic they’d always avoided...his career.

To Hannah, that was torture. She couldn’t look at the koala’s sweet smiling face without thinking of the way all that kindness seemed to flow out and infuse the music. That’s why she blurted out the words that pressed on her chest. “Don’t you miss singing at all?”

Her question clearly startled him, because his beautifully expressive face registered surprise. But, just as quickly, he composed himself and smiled. “I always sing a couple songs at the rallies, darlin’.” Hannah figured as much, but that wasn’t what she’d had in mind. Even so, she supposed she deserved evasion for bringing up the mutually taboo topic.

“But what about singing for its own sake? Do you ever miss that?” Hannah rejoiced and regretted in tandem when sadness flickered across Johnny’s face.

“Sometimes.” Just as the decision to coax more reflections out of him dawned on the hare, she heard the bell over the door chime, and in walked…

“Herb!” The smile that spread across Johnny’s face at the sight of Sir Horse soothed Hannah’s suddenly aching heart. Johnny’s small confession had caused some old yearnings to return.

But none of them had to do with either of her most admired male mammals...not directly, anyway. Still, she was stunned to realize that she missed her old job...not just because of Johnny, but because she’d relished the idea of showing the public what she saw in him. She’d relished the excitement that rushed through her when she found a new way to display his amazing talent and heart. Since then, nobody else had made her yen for PR again.

That is, except the equine who smiled as he made his way toward their table. “Johnny! How’s it going?”

“Good. You?”

“It’s been crazy, but I finally had a chance to sneak out of the office to visit my friends. Only now my manager over there”--Sam, they knew-- “just gave me a decidedly lengthy list of things she wants my help with.”

“Oh, a ‘Honey-Do’!” This was the first Hannah had spoken since her friend appeared; pleased with her own cleverness, she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face.

“Good catch, Hannah! And how are you, my friend?”

“Great! In fact, better now that you’re here.”

“She says the same thing to me!” Johnny gave her a teasing smile. Both he and Sir Horse gave her looks of mock disapproval that they did so well. She was glad they had things in common, but this was ridiculous...so ridiculous that Hannah just had to laugh.

“It’s okay, guys. I cleaned up my act, remember?” Of course they did...but it was more fun to mess with her...All three thought so. But sometimes Johnny and Sir Horse forgot that Hannah usually had a few tricks up her sleeve.

“So, Mr. Mayor...” Channeling the mannerisms of her former self—the one that talked like a 32-year-old ace con fox instead of a 26-year-old self-professed leveret-at-heart—she crossed her arms on the table, sizing him up. “How’d you like to buddy up on a little PR gig? I help you keep your image nice and shiny—just the way you like it—and you convince Sammy over there to let me tag along and watch it happen. That sound good to you, sweetheart?” It was so hard not to break character and start laughing. Maybe she was pushing it by closing with a major Nick-ism, but she stood by her choice: Not only was it solid smooth-talk, but whether she was a fox or a leveret, a friend or a fancier, he was still a sweetheart; that was his way.

She was swept away by this momentary reverie, and it brought the leveret-like smile back to her features. “There’s the Hannah I know!” exclaimed the equine with a smile. “So, my friend, are you saying you want to do PR for a politician?” he asked, bemused. He recalled her saying she was wary of that particular group.

“No.” Hannah smiled at him. “I’m saying I want to do PR for you. You have your own thing going. It hardly looks like politics. It’s just being a good mammal.” She said it with such certainty that Sir Horse found himself intrigued. At first it had been hard to see past her playful pitch, but…

“You may be onto something, Hannah. Let me go talk to Sam about this.” As he turned and strode across the room, the smile never left his face.

“How’d you do that?!” mused a mystified Johnny when they were alone once more.

“Do what?”

“You made it look so easy.” She shrugged.

“Now you know how I feel when you sing. I just had fun with it. I know Sir Horse has something special; it just takes a little creativity to see where we can go with it.” Even as she beamed, Johnny looked crestfallen. “What’s wrong, darlin’?”

He pleaded with his soft brown eyes. “Do you still feel that way about me?” She hugged him close.

“Always! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. For me, PR isn’t about changing tactics or selling stuff. You don’t have to give up what works, and you get to show everybody more of what you love.”

“Well, when you put it that way...” Sir Horse had returned, with Sam by his side. Both were smiling.

“Hannah,” Sam began, “It looks like you have some paid vacation time saved up. Want to...get back in the saddle again?”

“Ah!” Hannah screamed as though scalded, and a blush suffused her cheeks. Glancing guiltily at the horse, she then pointed a shaky paw at Sam. “She-said-it-not-me.” The words tumbled out in a rush. To calm her nerves, Johnny gently put an arm around her, and Sir Horse offered a soothing smile.

“I was aware of that, Hannah. It’s fine.”

“In that case”--the hare’s sigh of relief was palpable-- “Thanks, guys. I can’t wait!”

“Sorry about that, Hannah,” Sam told her. “You guys were having so much fun over here, and...I didn’t get to tease you yet today!” Hannah snickered.

“It’s okay. I probably deserved it.”

“We’d better get back to work,” the Mayor said to his wife. “I don’t think Hannah can stand any more of us today.”

“Don’t say that!” laughed the hare, shaking her head. “There’s never a dull moment with you two. But...I’ll admit, having that much fun is tiring!”

One couple had come and gone, but Hannah and Johnny were still enjoying their day. “Hey, darlin’?”

“Yeah?”

“What about me? Could I have some of your PR magic?” As shocked as she was that Johnny was willing to broach the subject, she’d been hoping he’d ask. Only, she didn’t want to tell him that. Slipping back into the role of top negotiator, she offered assurance.

“Sweetheart, you have all the magic you need.”

“Really?” Johnny was delighted.

“Sure. But, don’t worry...” She grabbed him by the shirtfront and pulled him close. “I got plans for you.”

Eighteen

As told by Hannah

I hate it when I have a disagreement with Sir Horse. Thank goodness it doesn’t happen often, but when it does, all I want to do is mope. Right now we’re good, but even just thinking about it makes me want to sneak a cookie from the bakery counter. (When I’m sad, my sweet tooth goes into overdrive.) I’ll try to make this part of the story quick, just so I don’t go nuts.

A few weeks ago, we were brainstorming ideas for my PR comeback. Sir Horse needed framework for some new initiatives; I needed a new muse. If that sounds old-fashioned, it’s because for me, PR and art are inseparable: Mammals are moved to action when they are moved by emotion. That includes me, the creator...and Sir Horse is exactly the kind of visionary I’m inspired by.

There is nothing not to like about Sir Horse. I say that often, but I can’t say it enough. What you see is what you get. But he chooses to be ambiguous at the strangest times; I guess that’s just his way of being diplomatic. And this is his first time dealing directly with politics, so I can see how he wouldn’t want anyone thinking he’s a loose cannon.

That lead-up is pretty intense, isn’t it? Well, you’re going to laugh when you hear what we were debating; I did, too, once I got over the shock. He told me that I shouldn’t use the word ‘love’ in any promotional materials. That made me so sad I wanted to cry, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there was also smoke coming out of my ears. Leporines would look funny like that, don’t you think? (Humor is my coping mechanism.)

One of the sweetest, most generous mammals on the planet was telling me not to use the word, ‘love’?! You could’ve knocked me over with a dust bunny. (But ever since my accident, you can literally knock me over with just about anything. I’m a sitting snowshoe. See? Humor.)

I’ve heard the saying ‘Love is a four-letter word’, but this was ridiculous. That night, I went home and wrote a song. It wasn’t for Sir Horse—after all, the ‘l-word’ was in it (gasp!)--but it was for me, it was for Zootopia, and it was for someone I never expected to write for again.

“Johnny!” The next day, my favorite koala came to visit me. Whenever work brings him to the city, he always checks up on me. (Aww!) I had a surprise for him. Two surprises, actually. Maybe even three. First up… “I wrote a new song.”

“That’s great, darlin’! Can I see it?” I gave him the prized piece of paper, then sang the chorus for him as he read. The way his face lit up made me wish we were still a couple. But if I thought that was hard…

“I want to sing it at one of your rallies.” He was confused and pleased all at once. “Darlin’…?”

“I know; I probably don’t deserve to. But this song means a lot to me, and it deserves to be there. I promise it won’t be a permanent thing...” Johnny smiled.

“Bring it on!” (He only says that when he’s really excited about something.)

“Really?!”

“Yeah.” (Again, he only says it like that when he’s ‘stoked’--or when he wants to seduce me. This time, it was both.) I enjoyed the attention while I could, because I love my Johnny...and because the next piece of the puzzle would either make or break the whole plan…

The next day, Nick spit a mouthful of Snarlbucks salted caramel latte halfway across my living room. “Me?! Sing?! In public?!”

“Oh, pardon-moi, Monsieur Chanteur, but what about that ‘awesome gig’ with Mickey and Max that you won’t stop talking about?!”

“That’s an ensemble!” Nick whined.

“True, and for parts of it you didn’t even sing, you just shouted, ‘try everything!’ But Judy did, too, and she must’ve had a good reason, so I’m giving you a pass.” I smirked at him. “Hey, if I’m doing it, so can you. Seems to me you actually enjoy attention.” He sighed wearily.

“But not that kind!” I tried to look mad, but I smiled.

“The song’s called, ‘Rebels With A Cause’, and, well, you’re the most famous rebel in the city.”

“But…!” He brightened. “I am?!”

“Nick, you went from being a con artist to one of the most respected cops in Zootopia. So, yeah, I’d say you’re a rebel with a cause.” Just like that, his signature smirk was back in place.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” Nick is a real pawful, but I love him.

Before I knew it, rally day had arrived. It was only a one-time deal, so we had to make it count. Yes, ‘we’...Nick agreed to help after all. Judy and Ben had come to cheer us on—and since they were also that day’s event security, they were in the front row.

I was going crazy with nerves—and trying not to think about the fact that I was actually at a rally—but luckily I didn’t have to think about it long, because Johnny let us open. “Welcome, everyone! I recently heard a brand new song that I can’t wait to share with all of you. Here to sing it for you are my friends Hannah Snowshoe Hare and Officer Nick Wilde!” Johnny really knows how to work a crowd—when he gets excited, so do they. The crowd went nuts as I took the stage, with Nick right behind me. We had agreed to alternate verses and do the chorus together. Since I wrote the song, we thought it made sense for me to go first. That idea scared the heck out of me, but at that moment, I just wanted to get the whole thing over with:

This is the story of Zootopia

How the odds were against us

From the very start

But we knew that we could stick together

If everyone did their part

From the heart

We work tooth and nail

With our paws and claws

To uphold that hope because

It doesn’t matter what our past once was…

We’re rebels with a cause

You can join us now,

You don’t have to wait

There’s no time like the present

To appreciate

Our city of neighbors, our city of friends

Love begins with us, but it never ends

We work tooth and nail

With our paws and claws

To uphold that hope because

It doesn’t matter what our past once was…

We’re rebels with a cause

Peace starts with you,

It starts with me,

And every mammal that we see;

In a world where we are free to be

Anything…

We’re rebels with a cause

In a world where we are free to be

Anything…

We’re rebels with a cause!

I didn’t know what to expect when I looked out into the crowd after those final notes...But it was a hit! Wow! The cheers hurt my ears, but I didn’t care. Not when Johnny was sitting on side stage smiling at me. Not when Judy and Ben were bouncing up and down. Not when Nick looked at me and mouthed, ‘that was actually fun’. That fox—what a riot. He gave me a quick hug before leaving the stage to join Judy and Ben. I followed intent on making a speedy exit. I needed some space...Besides, there was somewhere else I’d rather be.

Sam was busy behind the counter of L&P when I went in. But she heard the bell and turned, then did a double-take. What was that all about? I waved, but I wasn’t really in the mood to talk. Not to just anyone, that is…

“Yay!” I raced over to a table in the back, grateful to have spotted him. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Sir Horse smiled.

“As am I, dearest Hannah.”

“Aww!” I can’t resist saying it. When Sir Horse surprises me with sweetness like that, it’s impossible not to. Right then, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to feel the words I’d been wanting to say. I get that it seems kinda strange to feel words, but it happened then. They welled up in my chest—the ones I’d spray-painted on an abandoned building, the ones I’d dodged with jokes, the ones I’d sidestepped with wordplay.

If Sir Horse could tell what I was thinking, he didn’t say. “I decided to take my lunch break here today—enjoy the quiet, look out the window, catch up with news on my phone—and then I see there’s live coverage of a rally going on just down the block.” I blanched.

So that’s why Sam did a double-take! The crowd was so big, I had no idea there were reporters around!...I was on T.V.?! The thought made me a little nauseous, so I was glad I didn’t know earlier.

“Tell me, Hannah—what exactly did Johnny have to do to convince you to join him?” Sir Horse’s tone and expression went into that range he reserved for making outrageous claims to get a laugh. Sure enough, it worked. And when I finally caught my breath…

“Actually, I wrote that song. I asked him if I could sing it there, and Nick, too.” It’s hard to surprise Sir Horse, but that seemed to.

“Ah, I was wondering what it would take for Nick to attempt something like that,” Sir Horse mused aloud.

“An ego massage,” I supplied.

“Does your song have anything to do with our conversation a few weeks ago? You didn’t by any chance write it for me, did you?”

“No, I didn’t write it for you,” I said as nonchalantly as I could. “It has that word you don’t like in it, remember?” I was starting to sound like a spoiled leveret. The leveret part was okay; I make some of my best points that way. The spoiled part...not so much.

“As much as I admire your initiative, Hannah, there’s something you should know. I’ve heard more than one artist – usually musicians – say that, once they make a song public, it is no longer theirs; that is, they no longer can control whether it is received in the manner in which it was intended. Different consumers will attach different meaning to it, based on their own perspectives; the artist relinquished the right to control that meaning when she or he made it public.” I smiled.

“Exactly. That word—that concept—is on a continuum; it doesn’t mean the same thing to everyone all the time. I imagine it’s something like—family on one end, romance on the other, and everyone else somewhere in between. Mine has a great big spot for my friends, and...” I lost all my momentum. “...Especially for you. I know it’s not nice to play favorites, but I won’t apologize for it. We can’t help what speaks to us.”

It’s rare for both me and Sir Horse to be speechless at the same time, but we were then. After a minute I said, “I need to go home and take a nap. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Without stopping to second-guess myself, I held up my paw—thumb claw to the side, index claw up, middle claws down, pinkie claw up. ZSL. Then I zipped out the door with a smile on my face.

Nineteen

As told by Hannah

I could hardly wait! Lory was coming to the bakery for the first time…! I hadn’t seen him since his visit to my place a few months ago; I was so excited! (Can you tell?)

I went to pick him up, and on our trip back into the city, I told him all about L&P. Once we arrived, I led the way inside, pushing the door open with my foot. “I told Sam and Sir Horse you were coming, so they let us have it all to ourselves today. I may have mentioned that you don’t like an audience...”

“Oh, I like an audience just fine...so long as they stay in their home theater,” quipped Lory, making me laugh.

“Exactly.”

“All kidding aside, that was very generous of them. Please send them my regards.”

“I sure will!” We’d been inside for just a few minutes, but when Lory got a good look around, he was clearly impressed.

“It is tres magnifique!” He spoke with one of those silly Europawian accents that always gave me the giggles. Once I’d recovered, I lead the way to a cozy little table in the corner.

“Have a seat,” I offered, and he did, all the while taking in the room.

“This really is astounding,” he said. “Almost as if it were another time, like something out of EPCOT.” I sighed sadly.

“I don’t want to talk about the parks. It makes me miss them too much.”

“Oh, well, what did you have in mind…?”

“Tell me about Caws.” I’ve discovered that getting to know Lory means learning about his idols, one of whom he was an apprentice to as a fledgling performer.

Lory’s eyes lit up, even as he said, “Are you sure? Because with me...That could take awhile.” He laughed, which made me break into a grin.

“Yes, please! I mean, I guess there’s a lot of stuff I could just look up, but I like hearing it from you.” Lory smiled modestly.

“That’s very kind. Well, o-kay--I just wanted to make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into…!” He said this with a soft, sinister sneer; I snickered.

~

I was deeply moved by Lory’s heartfelt account of the time he spent with his mentor. “All this is to say that Caws was as warm, generous, and delightful a friend as anyone could ever ask for.” He didn’t need to say that for me to understand, but the fact that he did spoke volumes about the strength of their friendship.

“I’m so glad you shared that with me, Lory—thank you.”

“My pleasure. I’m happy to know you enjoyed it...not many mammals have the stamina to sit through my stories,” he said with a sweet simper, giving a self-deprecating shrug. I smiled, for once feeling relieved that I could ‘sit through’ anything, ‘cause that’s literally how I live...but even if I didn’t, I could listen to Lory’s stories all day. Truth be told, I find them fascinating...and hearing about Caws in particular reminded me of someone…

“So much of what you’ve said sounds just like Sir Horse,” I told Lory. “He’s the same way...so patient, giving, and supportive. We don’t know any fancy tricks, but we do alright.”

“I’m sure you have a few of your own; everyone has some tricks of the trade up their sleeve, no matter what trade it is.”

“I guess so. But what we really like to do is bring mammals together. We’re a real community outfit.” I beamed, as proud of Sir Horse and Sam for fostering that ideal as I was of myself for being part of it.

Lory looked at me, his smile wistful. “They don’t make mammals like those guys anymore...” I’d have loved to disagree, but I had a feeling he was right. But, on the other paw…

“Their values are timeless. It’s the appreciation of those values that needs work.” I paused, thoughtful. “I lead a very simple life, and yet sometimes I feel like a rebel. Is it so terrible to want respect and compassion?!”

I asked that rhetorical question in the heat of the moment, but leave it to Lory to answer: “Aye, lass. Yer bound ta walk the plank fer it.” I laughed so hard, I almost fell out of my chair. After I caught my breath, I looked up at Lory. He smiled; I smiled back. “But I’ll go with ye, matey.”

I’d started the day with a million questions, but those six words said everything I needed to know.

Twenty

It scared Hannah Hare to think Sir Horse would be up for re-election soon. He’d done more than enough for the city, but for him, there was always more to be done. So the doe wasn’t surprised to, out of the blue, receive this in the mail:

You are cordially invited to

Lapin et l’Arts

an intimate gathering celebrating creativity, passion, and thoughtful conversation, to be held at

The Bakery

this weekend

Did she R.S.V.P? Yes—yes she did.

~

Arriving to the Friday soiree, Hannah marveled that the bakery, which she’d left hours earlier, had been transformed into a theater. Lines of chairs led the eye to a makeshift stage composed of crates. The curtains suspended from the ceiling were just for show; Hannah surmised they’d been on a window recently. But all it took was a little imagination, and this could be the real thing! Hannah was short on a lot of things, but she had plenty of that.

“There she is!” Hannah beamed at the sight of Sir Horse.

“And there you are!” she greeted with a laugh. “Tell me, my friend—what inspired you to host such a lovely evening of culture?” He smiled.

“I think you’re overselling it, but since you asked...It’s been awhile since we’ve done anything solely for the sake of entertainment and enrichment.” Hannah agreed wholeheartedly. But, it seemed there was something he wasn’t saying...

~

As Hannah watched the other guests arrive, she could feel her patience fraying. (Sam caught her in a snit and winked, calming her a bit.) Clawhauser, Nick and Judy, Phinn Fairchild...While she was waiting, she wandered over to WildeHopps. “Hi, guys! I’m glad you’re here!”

“Well, if Herb can clear his schedule to spend time with us, the least we can do is return the favor!” Judy replied brightly.

“Especially if it means we get to call a sitter!” Nick added with a wink.

“Who gets to watch the kits, then?”

“Well, it depends on who’s around...” Judy began.

“But tonight Johnny has that honor,” Nick finished.

‘Johnny? My Johnny?!’ Hannah’s thoughts raced. He was great with little ones, that much she knew. But part of her had been hoping he’d show up tonight. Suddenly anxious, Hannah excused herself to seek out the host.

“Who else is coming?”

“Just waiting on one more...” Sir Horse answered, glancing at his watch. All this suspicion was really ruffling Hannah’s feathers...

Five more minutes went by. Out of the corner of her eye, Hannah spied someone ducking into a seat a few rows back. It shocked Hannah to the core to realize that, as though conjured by her puzzled thoughts of plumage, Lory had appeared.

~

Sir Horse took the stage a few moments after. “Hello, everyone; I’m glad you all could join us tonight. For what purpose, you might ask? Well, as mayor, I’m often tasked with thinking on my feet. Sometimes that can be stressful, but under the right conditions, it can be fun, too. It’s from this experience that I was inspired to hold this little ‘revue’, if you will. You’ve probably heard that I aspire to be a teacher someday. Teachers have to know how to think on their feet, and often in more inventive ways than politics affords. So, I ask you, the most creative thinkers I know, to present to me whatever strikes your fancy. With that...Let the games begin! Who wants to go first?”

Hannah had been watching Sir Horse with awe that rivaled any she’d ever felt in his presence. She sat stock-still. Having no clue as to how to proceed, she decided her best bet would be to, a.) live in the moment, and b.) stay calm. She saw WildeHopps whispering amongst themselves and decided they’d be the first takers.

Sure enough, they stunned the crowd with a duet of “Do You Love Me?” from Fiddler On The Roof...only, they gender-swapped the roles, and came up with costumes from stuff on standby.

Phinn regaled the crowd with tales of his travels. Clawhauser gave a dramatic reading of a chapter of his favorite book, Maisy’s Critter. And then there were two.

“Well, it’s been years since I’ve attempted to ‘wing it’ in a workshop setting,” laughed Lory, “so observe at your own risk.” Before reaching the stage, Lory stopped to confer with Sir Horse. At length, the equine stood. “Lory says he’s in need of a female lead for his piece. Volunteers?”

Hannah’s paw sprang up of its own volition. Well, not quite—it wasn’t as though she’d endeavor to do her presentation alone. No—if she had to do this, she’d make it interesting. After some conferring of their own—and a rapid ransacking of Sam’s materials—they began their piece.

It was, to Hannah’s mind, by far the most memorable scene of Arthur Mule’s The Crucible. Young Abigail meets with the much older John Proctor in secret, and they discuss—and continue—their torrid love affair.

It was only as she leaned in to give Lory a kiss—whether or not it was in the script, her frazzled mind couldn’t recall—that she had the distinct feeling she’d been tricked.

But she didn’t care.

She kissed him anyway.

The rest of the evening flew by in a whirlwind, especially as Sir Horse closed out the show with: “Thank you all so much for your contributions. I’ll always recall this day fondly, and keep your courage, creativity and conviction in mind when I’m writing lesson plans someday. Except for that last one, which was something else entirely…!”

Twenty-One

Hannah Snowshoe Hare fairly flew through the door of L&P, practically shook as she pulled up a seat. Lory would be joining her for a chat—their first since she’d confessed her love. She couldn’t contain her excitement...Though she tried—oh, she tried—but it couldn’t be done. By the time he arrived (no less than eight minutes late, maybe more), she was just about bouncing out of her seat.

“Hi...” Lory said, a little shy.

“Hi!” Hannah beamed.

“It’s only me—no need to get so keyed up.” His laugh let her know that he wasn’t kidding.

“I was gonna say the same to you,” she said softly. “Don’t be nervous,” came her gentle plea. “I can’t help how excited I get.”

The sudden spark of intensity in his eyes meant he’d been moved to empathize. “I can’t, either. It’s the same with nerves; they just kinda...happen.”

“I know—mine do, too. Plus, it’s fun to get excited, especially about you, because I...” Hannah stopped, suddenly aware of how tired Lory looked. She fervently hoped, with every fiber of her being, that she wasn’t burdening him by keeping him here.

“I wanted to do something edgy, but not so edgy that they’d ban me on the spot.” Hannah was startled when he spoke, having missed the signs that the wheels of his mind were turning while she’d been lost in her own. It took her a moment to realize that he’d referred to Sir Horse’s revue—wonderful, magical night that it was.

She smiled—at the memory, and the certainty that Lory liked Sir Horse’s sense of humor and had wanted to impress him. As though reading her thoughts, Lory returned the smile.

“You were right; he does remind me of Caws.” Hannah’s face lit up, and she laughed.

“I knew it!”

When Hannah recovered, she realized Lory was watching her. “I like your laugh.” Stunned, Hannah couldn’t say a word before he went on, “It reminds me of something...” He told her about a script Caws had composed, about a family of seals...and she cracked up. “That’s what I always say! I knew it!” she repeated, then relapsed into raucous laughter.

“Mission accomplished,” Hannah managed at length.

“What mission? Making you laugh?” Lory asked.

“No, but that’s nice, of course.” Her teasing tone suggested this was understatement of the year. “I mean the way you gave your performance at the revue just the right amount of edge.” On a roll, the hare didn’t stop there.

“Why are you so tired, darlin’?” She winced, thinking he might deflect with tricks, the way he once had. But it turned out to be his own lovely voice that replied.

“I’ve been filling in for Dale again. Every time that chipmunk wants to run off and play, guess who has to pay for it?!” He waved a wing in answering woeful chagrin. “It can be a real drag keeping up with that energy of his.”

Wanting to reassure him, Hannah reached for his wing—and an opportunity, realizing she could use this window to show him how much he meant to her. Now, all she had to do was muster the courage to convince him to give her a chance. If she was lucky, maybe he’d even let her give him some TLC.

She opened her mouth to make her case—only to close it when Lory spoke again. “That night at the revue, I wasn’t just interested in putting on a performance.”

“Really?” Hannah asked, riveted. He nodded.

“I also wanted to know what it would feel like to kiss you. You kindly saved me from that agonizing decision, but after that, I couldn’t have stopped if I tried.”

Hannah sat there, tongue-tied, throat dry, wearing an expression of complete and utter shock. After a minute or two, a smiling Lory left his perch. Inwardly, Hannah panicked; she wasn’t ready for him to go.

But, no...He rounded the table, resting a wing on her shoulder--thus returning the peace of mind she’d offered earlier—and added, “I’m glad I didn’t.” Hannah gulped and gaped at him, transfixed by the warmth of his gaze. “In fact, I think I’ll do it again.”

So he did.

And Hannah—gratefully, greedily, giddily—kissed him right back.

Twenty-Two

“Lory-Love...”

“Yes, my lovely little leporine…?” The hare’s breath hitched...but only for a split second before she face-pawed. Her previous intent forgotten, she spoke with a mix of eagerness and exasperation.

“I said, ‘Lory-Love’. No Hans Condor this early.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” pondered the bird, refusing to budge.

“If you do me this favor, I’ll show you later,” Hannah replied, her sing-song lilt shifting from leveret to lover by the statement’s end.

“Alright...” Lory gave a reluctant sigh, but his eyes were alight with anticipation.

From her quiet corner behind the counter of L&P, Sam laughed softly to herself. The two lovebirds made this their meeting place every other week, and though Sam tried her best to give them space, it was hard to miss Lory’s litany of impressions or Hannah’s squeals of delight at...most of them. She liked watching them together; it was a shame they’d be leaving soon. She was well-aware of the fact that they had a busy day ahead.

Just then, Hannah glanced over and smiled. “Are you sure you don’t want to come, Sam?” she asked.

“Positive.” Sam smiled back. “I have some early holiday orders I need to fill.”

“Already?!” Hannah’s eyebrows went up.

“I run the most popular bakery in the city. I’m a big deal, too, you know.” The rabbit positioned a paw on her aproned hip, rubbing off some powdered sugar in the process.

“True,” Hannah agreed, eyeing the saccharine smudge. “But right now you’re a big mess.” They both laughed.

“All the more reason I can’t go out like this,” Sam smirked. “Besides, I know you’ll take notes.” Hannah laughed and tapped the side of her head.

“You got it, boss.”

It wasn’t long before Hannah and Lory found themselves at the Zootopia Civic Center, seated in the front row for the ‘Zootopian Of The Year’ award ceremony. Hannah felt strangely out of place as she looked around—the dim, low-hanging light fixtures, brick walls, and vaguely industrial interior made it seem more like a nightclub-turned-factory than an auditorium. And it was an equally out-of-body experience to glance over and see Lory here—not only had she invited him on a whim, thinking he’d decline, but she’d also always imagined Johnny with her at a moment like this. But as the lights came down further still, Lory reached for her paw, and she realized she wouldn’t want to do this without him.

“Welcome, everyone! My name is Olivia; you all know me better as Assistant Mayor Otterton. I’m so excited to have you here as I present the first annual ZOTY award. Our city has such a rich history. I’ve given a lot of thought to how to honor our trials while also celebrating what enables us to thrive. With the help of my husband, Emmitt, and our First Lady, Sam Lapin, I created this award to mark the growth of our city over time, as well as to remind us of the unique foundation that unites us.

I’m thrilled to present the first ZOTY to a mammal who has been a champion of our culture for many years. His kindness, compassion and commitment to helping the city grow never ceases to amaze and inspire me. Please join me in giving a big congratulations to...Mayor Herb H. Horse!”

The second she heard that name, Hannah let go of Lory’s wing and leaned forward in her seat.

“Whenever someone asks me why I ran for office, my go-to answer is: gratitude. It is out of gratitude to my parents, who instilled in me the value of public service—gratitude to my wife, who proved to me that hard work, passion, and discipline can go farther than I ever realized—and gratitude to the friends and neighbors who have shown me that generosity of mind, heart, and soul will get you farthest of all, that I serve Zootopia. Anyone can be anything—but the best thing to be is true to yourself. Thanks.”

As Mayor Horse left the stage—resplendent in a white dress shirt, black jacket with pants to match, and that smile—he waved to the crowd with one hoof while proudly clutching his award with the other. The audience applauded, and Hannah—who hadn’t moved a muscle—appeared dazed to the point that she might topple out of her chair.

~

“How’d it go, guys?” Sam greeted Hannah and Lory when they arrived back at the bakery.

“It was the best!” Hannah gushed. She had now regained the power of speech, but was visibly shaking—and blushing a bit, too.

“Oh,” said Sam. “So you mean it was just a regular, run-of-the-mill speech.” Meanwhile, a bewildered and frustrated Lory found himself fired up by Sam’s seemingly flippant response.

“Excuse me…” He turned to march in her direction, intent on giving her a piece of his mind. Then, the bell over the door chimed, and everyone froze.

“YOU!” Spotting the mayor out of the corner of his eye, Lory whirled around again. “You’d best cut the charm thing, chum, and stop going after my girl!” Hannah should’ve been horrified, but all she could do was laugh. And as hers was the most contagious one on the block, Sam and Sir Horse joined in, too.

The sight of Hannah in hysterics eased the woe weighing on Lory’s mind and caused him to reconsider. “I’m sorry.” She looked up, smiling.

“Lory, sweetheart, next time you need some extra lovin’, just say so...and for goodness’ sake, don’t bother with the Hans Condor…!” She was by his side in a second, hugging him as she whispered something only he could hear. “Your natural voice is much more attractive.”

“It is?” asked Lory in disbelief. Sam didn’t have to hear it all to know the gist.

“Have you seen the way she looks at you, Lory? She looks at you like you’re the other half of her heart.”

“Samantha—I had no idea you could be so poetic…!” Sir Horse placed a hoof over his own heart, feigning amazement. Sam shrugged.

“I can when I want to,” she winked.

“I forgive you, Lory.” After a moment’s silence, Sir Horse spoke without preamble. “While I’m convinced that I’ve done little to deserve Hannah’s hero worship, I also agree with Sam. I’ve never seen Hannah look at anyone the way she looks at you.” Lory wore an expression of chagrin, but he smiled a little.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I trust your judgment.”

“Well...” Sir Horse began, “the accolades continue…! In the interest of getting to know you better—what makes you say that?”

“You remind me of Caws,” Lory told him. “He was my dear friend, mentor and teacher.”

“Teacher, you say? Now it’s all starting to make sense.” Hannah beamed as she snuggled further into Lory’s feathers.

“That’s Sir Horse’s next mission on the path to world peace,” she said.

“I have no doubt you’ll get there,” Lory told the mayor.

“To which point are you referring?” he wondered aloud.

“Oh—I don’t know—either, both.” With a wistful smile, he added, “And the things you say sound so much like him...” He paused, thoughtful. “Not literally, of course…!”

“You can—right, Lory-Love?” Before he could answer her, Hannah added, “But remember what Sir Horse said: ‘the best thing to be is true to yourself’.” Then, because she couldn’t resist, she gave Lory a kiss.