Serval and Sheep (Chapter 19)
Desmond returns to school after visiting his brother in the hospital, and does some reflection.
Desmond is engulfed in a massive group hug two steps into the training room. As soon as the rams found out about his brother's assault, it's been a non-stop barrage of worried texts, calls, video calls, surprise barging-ins his doom room, etcetera. Rams may be loud, aggressive and crass, but they are social creatures at heart.
"Captain!" Bleats Marcel, struggling to position his head in a way that doesn't pinch the taller ram's torso (unsuccessfully). Group hugs with horned animals is, as one could imagine, a logistical nightmare of clacking horns, accidental poking and struggles to untangle from the bramble of keratin.
"Yes, yes," Desmond huffs, trying desperately not to collapse to the ground from the weighty embraces. "Now lay off before I end up hospitalized too."
The cluster of bovids awkwardly untwine from each other, but still form a tight huddle around the Jacob sheep.
"Is Kane okay?" Leslie starts.
Desmond sighs. "As I've told all of you several times, yes. The assailant scratched his arm but it didn't hit any major arteries. He managed to escape and passed out on a crowded street. He's fine now and he'll be dispatched tomorrow. Frankly, he was being overdramatic about the whole thing."
Peter grabs one of Desmond's lower horns and jerks his head around in reprimand. "You're being underdramatic about the whole thing! Some carnie tried to eat him! He could've died!"
Leslie nods in agreement. "It's dangerous for sheep nowadays. Many are going missing for some reason. There must be some kind of rise in demand in those black markets."
"Don't say stuff like that!" Elmer chuffs. "I don't wanna think about what goes on in those skeevy places."
"Y-you think they'll go for any bovid nowadays? Not just sheep?" Marcel gulps.
Desmond snorts. "You're safe, Marcel. They won't go after scrawny little lambs. Not enough meat."
The springbok headbutts the sheep square in the gut, knocking the wind out of him with a solid 'oof'.
"You deserved that." Elmer crosses his arms. "But I am glad Kane's fine. He and your other brothers should visit us again once it's safe enough."
"Will it ever be safe enough?" Leslie chuckles sadly. " Sheep or not, herbies always run the risk of predation."
The training hall buzzes in a sullen silence.
"Don't be so morbid." Peter mumbles, and a general murmur of agreement among the rams brings that line of conversation to its end.
"But anyways, aren't we here to fight? Let's take our societal frustrations out on the punching bags!"
"Hell yeah!" Elmer and Marcel shout in unison, already beelining towards the locker room.
"Well said." Leslie snickers. "Desmond, are you training today? It's perfectly understandable if you're feeling a bit out of it."
Desmond smirks and playfully gives a tug on the urial's beard. "Actually, I think I'll skip today's session. I'm just here to say hi."
All the rams stop dead in their tracks.
"R-really?" Peter stammers.
Desmond gives a frustrated snort. "Don't act like I just told you I'm dying. It's just that the commute from the hospital was exhausting."
The herd nervously encourages him to get some rest, practically shoving him out the door. With a final wave, he trots off.
"If he doesn't even want to train... he must be a wreck." The bighorn sheep mumbles.
Leslie strokes his beard pensively. "I don't know if that's the case. He seemed... like he was thinking about something."
Unlike most animals, Desmond doesn't mind hospitals. In fact, he rather likes them. While the long waits can be a bit tedious, something about the social etiquette of a hospital really agrees with him. Animals of all shapes and sizes too wrapped up in their own personal worries to be concerned with insignificant chitchat. Words are only spoken out of necessity, and they are delivered with forethought and modesty. Sometimes, panicked family members or friends burst through the double doors and make a small scene, but these little tizzies serve as "in-flight" entertainment for the patients waiting to be called. It especially intrigued him when carnies would lose their calm, as sadistic as it may seem. What ant wouldn't want to see the anteater struggle? Trips to the hospital provide reassuring reminders that all animals bleed red.
After being escorted by a stoic crocodilian nurse, Desmond entered the hospital room his brother was assigned to. The visual sterility of the room was interrupted with the wooly spots of charcoal black and shimmering horns that could only belong to a Jacob sheep. Three rams and one ewe huddled around the hospital bed, their mutterings cut by the sound of the opening door.
The tallest of the rams was the first one to speak up. "Des! You made it!" He waited for Desmond to join the huddle before patting the ram's head and giving it a tussle. As much as Desmond was annoyed by this, he let it slide.
"Hey, Enan."
The bespectacled sheep next to Enan clapped Desmond on the back reassuringly. "You came quick. Now the family's all here."
"I'm just surprised you're here before I am, Oran. The airport is way farther away than my school."
"I have mad driving skills. Takes me half the time the shuttle does."
"Boys, we can discuss transit later." A gravelly voice interrupted. Its owner, a stout ram, wore a stern expression, but it melted into a small smile when looking at Desmond. "Glad you came, son. Doctors said his condition is stabilizing."
They all turned to face the slumbering sheep resting on the bed. Even in sleep, his face was creased with exhaustion, with only soft breaths in and out of his parted mouth indicating life. His right arm, positioned over the white sheets, was wrapped up tight in gauze, a reddish tinge permeating the center.
"He's out cold, huh?"
"Doctors said he's entered a state of shock." Enan sighed. "He didn't lose that much blood but he probably got so startled that his body just... shut down."
"What a nifty defense mechanism." Desmond muttered. He glanced towards the ewe, who had been keeping her silence since Desmond has arrived. It's clear she did not want any of them there.
"Mom, you told me over the phone that he passed out on the street. Did some random person call an ambulance for him?"
"...That's right. The hospital staff called me after finding his ID. Your father and I rushed over as soon as we heard."
"She called us when she was in the waiting room," Oran added. "It's good that we're all quick on the trigger."
"Had I known you would all recklessly endanger yourselves by coming here, I wouldn't have told you at all." The ewe said in a quiet, trembling voice.
"Now, now, Orla, there's no need to be so worked up." Desmond's father reached for her hand. "They're all here, safe and sound. You boys had no trouble coming down here, right lads?"
Before the rams could answer, the ewe snatched her hand away. "Just because they got here fine doesn't mean it's safe outside! For God's sake, have you not watched the news?! Kane was walking down the street in broad daylight and look what happened to him! Mauled! Bloody carnies aren't even restraining themselves to the night when doing their killings now!" Her rant was cut off by choked sobs. She buried her face in her hands while heaving pitiful tears. The rams all circled around her.
"Ma, please don't cry..." Oran soothed. "We're all alive, all here. Even Kane."
"Yeah!" Enan chimed in. "These sheep killings are just a passing incident. You'll see, by next month, it's like this never happened."
Their mother only shook her head, still not lifting her face from her hands. "It'll always be like this. There's not a place on this Earth where herbies like us can live without fear. You'd think what happened to Desmond would be enough for this family--"
"That was different." Desmond interrupted her curtly. "Kane's injury is just... being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Some things just can't be predicted."
The ewe raised her head to stare at him, eyes still watery. "But it could have been avoided! All this talk of coexistence and inter-species integration... nothing but a load of rubbish that makes it easier for carnies to slaughter us!"
Desmond's father placed a reassuring hand on her back. "It's true carnies can't be trusted with a stick of gum, let alone a herbivore life. But it's only right for the lads to visit their injured brother."
The ewe said nothing to this. The five remained in silence as the collective gaze returned to the unconscious Kane.
"Desmond," his mother murmured after some time. "Come with me to fetch some water."
The rams exchanged nervous glances, but Desmond nodded. The two made their way through the hospital hallway in a tense silence. He knew what was coming next.
They arrived at the water cooler in the main waiting room. While Desmond grabbed a paper cup and began to fill it, he could already see his mother begin to fidget out the corner of his eye.
"Desmond. I want you out of that school."
"That's absurd and you know it. Moving back in with you won't change anything."
"It would change everything! A young sheep, living in a school filled with carnies roaming free! You've nowhere to run if they try to do something!"
"This is my future we're talking about, Mother. Noah's Arc is prestigious, and their reputation wouldn't be so golden if herbies were being gobbled up every day."
His mother scoffed. "Don't be naive, Desmond. I'd expect you of all people to understand the danger. The only reason you didn't die that day is because we lived so close to that school. Imagine what would become of you if that happened in Noah's Arc--"
"It wouldn't!" Desmond bleated. His outburst attracted the attention of the seated animals, forcing him to lower his tone. "I'm not a child anymore, and I'm not a fool. I know better than anyone what carnies are capable of. But if I want to get anywhere in life, I need to learn how to work alongside them."
"It's not worth it! Do you know how much sleep I lose, thinking about how you're all alone over there? I'm tossing and turning into an early grave! I heard a sheep went missing there and they're acting like nothing ever happened! Do you expect me to just sit around and wait until you're next?"
As much as Desmond wanted to explode with frustration, he had no choice but to heave a long sigh and close his eyes. He wrapped his arms around his mother, trying to still her shaking breaths.
"I don't want to worry you, Mother." He said softy. "I know it hasn't been easy raising us, especially me. But I need to stay there. I've been learning...a lot. About herbies and carnies. There are some things I need to know more about. Things I want to know more about. So I can't go home yet."
The ewe sniffled and gripped his back, tightening the hug. "You're brave, Desmond. That's what scares me the most."
Once upon a time, a hare named Mendax fell down a deep well. The well was so dark, the hare could not see his paw in front of his face. But a voice rang out from the darkness, and he knew he was not alone.
"Who goes there?" The voice cried out.
The hare feared for his life, knowing that if it was a carnivore, he would surely be eaten. So in the bravest voice he could muster, he declared:
"I am Mendax, the bear! Approach me and I shall devour you!"
"I do not wish to incur your ire, Mendax. I am but a humble serpent, who has fallen into this well. There are some loose stones here that perhaps could lead to a way out, but alas, I have no arms, and cannot move them. It appears you are my saving grace. If you move the rubble, we can both escape from a watery grave."
"Very well." Mendax replied. Feeling around the walls, he notices the loose bit of cobblestone the serpent spoke of. As hares are exceptional diggers, he makes quick work of the rubble, and soon, he uncovers a secret tunnel.
"Excellent work, noble bear! It is to be expected of a predator of awesome strength such as you."
Mendax was filled with a strange sense of pride and power hearing this. Nevertheless, the two animals made their way through the tunnel until they could see light. Free from the darkness' cloak, Mendax's lie was exposed, and the serpent beheld his true form.
"Normally, sir hare, I would devour such a pathetic creature." The serpent hissed. "But as you have saved my life, you may flee from me and I shan't chase you."
But Mendax only laughed a terrible laugh. "Flee?!" He roared. "Why should a bear such as I flee from a puny serpent? I shall have your head for such insults!"
The hare charged towards the serpent, and swiped at its head. But lo, his claws were so short and dull that it did not even break through one scale. Mendax realized he had become lost in his delusions, and was nothing more than a hare.
The serpent shook his head sadly. "Had you chosen to accept your role with grace, you would have lived to see another day." And in one swift strike, Mendax was swallowed whole.
It's a cautionary tale. A tale warning herbivores that bravery born out of deception is nothing more than sheer folly. That a hare should never act like a bear.
I hated that story ever since I first heard it.
Mendax never stood a chance. If he had been honest from the start, he would've been devoured in the well. And why should he have fled? Is a life of active cowardice the best a herbivore could aspire to? Have herbivores no power even in a fairytale?
After elementary school, I vowed to live like Mendax. If all I can ever be seen as is dinner, why should I not strive to be a diner? If there is no honor in being a hare, why shouldn't I live like a bear? I'll grow up so strong and righteous, I'll snap every serpent in two and eat them like noodles.
...Is what I thought. Have I been so filled with anger my entire life?
I was right to, at least at first. All my life, a central rule has always held true: carnivores are strong, herbivores are weak. A carnivore will eat a herbivore if they can, because according to survival of the fittest, they have the right to do so. Any animal weak enough to die has only itself to blame.
"You're brave, Desmond. That's what scares me the most."
I'm not. Mendax was a coward and so am I. I train, and study, and fight, and conquer so that one day, I can finally strip my sheep's wool off my body, and be reborn as a powerful bear. I want to be feared, and adored, so that I would never have to flee again.
But maybe I was wrong from the start. Maybe I had been raised on a fallacy. Because no one ever told me that a herbivore could be strong too.
It still seems ridiculous to me. I am a weak, pathetic creature. Only my wool and my meat are worth anything. I have four horns, but none of them can protect me.
But she said I inspired her. She wanted my honesty. She wanted me alive.
And if she can find something of use to her in a sheep, then a sheep must be worth something.
"So, it turns out he was part komodo dragon--"
"Hey guys!"
Hafsa's speech is cut off by Brian, who sets his tray down opposite to her.
"Ah, you're here." Solomon greets, wiping his mouth delicately with a napkin. "The vice president asked to see you after today's meeting, no? What did he want?"
"Well..." Brian tilts his head, gesturing towards the lunch line. A certain Jacob sheep finishes grabbing his dessert (two cups of pudding and a fruit salad), and stalks next to the pigeon, offering a curt nod.
"I'm a little hungry tonight." He begins, his voice an awkwardly stiff drawl. "I can go elsewhere if it's a problem."
"Not at all!" Brian chirps, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We're all student council members; it's only right to have you here! Please, sit, sit!"
"We'd be happy to have dinner with you!" Hafsa adds a bit too cheerfully for Desmond's liking.
Solomon gives a quiet nod, his demeanor cooler than ever. "Naturally."
Brian pulls the chair next to Hafsa out for Desmond, and beckons him to take a seat. And suddenly, all four student council members are having dinner together. The chatter is lighthearted and the meals are tasty. Although Desmond keeps quiet for most of it, it's as if he had always eaten with them to begin with.
When everyone is finishing off dessert, and Solomon and Brian enter a rather intense debate of whether plums have pits or not, Hafsa suddenly rests her elbow on the table and slides it, leaning towards the sheep next to her.
"Hey," she whispers. "How's your brother? Sorry I couldn't ask before."
Wow, she's close.
"He's fine. He woke up after a while and went straight back to his idiotic ways. Doctors said he'll be out by tomorrow."
Hafsa breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank God. That's really great to hear."
"Yeah." He pauses. "And um... thank you."
The serval raises a brow. "For what?"
"Your advice. Back at the water fountain. It was helpful."
Hafsa grins, the sort of smile he had been waiting all day to see.
"Anytime."