FSE

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Hafsa is on top of the world. Just a few weeks ago, she had been contemplating dropping out of school, such was the barrage of drama and humiliation her sophomore year had brought her. Yet here she stands now, with every obstacle that had been thrown her way triumphantly defeated.

She has stellar rapport among her treasurer and secretary, the latter perhaps even something more. And by far her biggest headache, the vice president, no longer hates her, and yes, even seems to tolerate her company. Sure, there was the fiasco during Lupercalia, but the general consensus had laid it to rest as a freak incident.

With her popularity at an all-time high, Hafsa relishes in the idea that her dream of being adored by the masses is drawing ever closer within her reach.

But of course, complacency is a trap. She knows better than to sit back, relax, and await some other comically horribly debacle to challenge her presidential seat. The never-ending tightrope walk of being the ideal carnivore has no safety net.

An idol to the carnies, an exception to the herbies, Hafsa spends her day helping the weak and being helped by the strong. Just reliable to be depended upon, but just frail enough to be charming.

"Pres, can you help me carry this?" "Hey President, you were awesome in the pep rally!" "Do you need help handing those out, Pres?" "Let me get the door for you!" "President, thank you so much for lending me your study notes the other day!"

These are the sort of comments that she would hear as she struts down the halls, her personal catwalk. Always equipped with a smile and a wave, the serval commutes from class to class swarmed by her subjects.

"Thanks, Pres, you're the best!"

The best? Well, I guess I must be, huh?

With the kickoff of the spring sports season, Hafsa has her hands full cheering during each match. Like they had agreed upon beforehand, Desmond takes care of most of the event planning itself, giving her more time to focus on her routine.

Having elicited standing ovations from the football game, basketball game, and track and field race, the next game on the chopping block is none other than Desmond's first official ram fighting match. While Hafsa continues to feel nothing but complete disinterest in the sport, she finds solace in the fact that this time, she will at least be cheering on an "almost friend". That thought alone boosts her motivation.

The match is tomorrow, a Wednesday, and thankfully will be held indoors. Despite being early spring, a recent wet spell had fallen over Noah's Arc Academy, drenching the school in sporadic cloudbursts once or twice a day,

Hafsa despises the rain. Putting aside the feline's natural aversion towards wetness, the increased humidity in the air does nothing but heighten her sense of smell. She often finds herself having to put on two or three nose strips just to dull it down to its normal level. That and the constant stench of petrichor irritates her senses like a pungent perfume, leaving her head muggy and listless.

She is in such a state during the student council meeting. Struggling to maintain her arched seating posture, she flips through paperwork without much conviction while chatting with Desmond.

"Excited for your debut match tomorrow?" She asks.

Even Desmond's sardonic eyes cannot betray a glimmer of giddiness. "I've been waiting for this all year. It's a shame ram fighting is one of the last sports to debut each the season."

Brian hobbles past him, in pursuit of a runaway apple he knocked off the coffee table. "I'm quite excited myself. Seeing Desmond's match finally gives me an excuse to see what ram fighting's all about!"

The sheep swivels his head to glare at the bird. "You've never seen a match before? What happened to 'Olive Pride'?"

"Ram fighting is only really popular with bovids." Solomon speaks up from the back of the room. "No offense, but it's not very entertaining to the non-horned."

Desmond shoots him an icy look before returning to his work.

Just as Hafsa opens her mouth to attempt to salvage a friendly atmosphere, she is interrupted by three quiet knocks.

"Come in!" She announces.

A brief pause. The door slowly gives way to a very tall presence, one that takes the serval completely by surprise.

Before them stood a tigress, lean and gangling. Her pale blue eyes surveys the room while her hands, awkwardly beefy compared to her thin arms, fidgets with the tube of a nasal cannulas that goes all the way to her pink nose. Though her legs are concealed by a long black skirt, they too appear to be twitching in anxiety.

Hafsa can't help but stare. Not at her eyes, her hands or even her nasal cannulas, but her fur. A gorgeous pearly white made only paler by the clouded atmosphere, slashed by intricate black stripes. She had never seen a white tiger before, but she had heard the rumors of their gorgeous fur, truly unlike any other tiger. Though the girl's features may seem off-putting and frail to a normal Bengal tiger, that glistening ivory fur endowed her stringy appearance with a newfound sense of grace, like how a lily remains beautiful even when wilting.

"E-excuse me..." The tigress's voice snaps the serval out of her shock. "I'm sorry to interrupt."

In a flash, Hafsa becomes all business. With a warm smile, she beckons the taller feline inside, grabbing a nearby chair and offering it. "Not at all! Student council doors are always open!"

The tiger gives a small wave of acknowledgement to the other members and gingerly sits down at Hafsa's behest, squeaking out a tiny "thank you". Desmond, Brian and Solomon intently look on in the distance, trying to stay out of the way. With the two felines settled on opposite sides of Hafsa's large desk, the discussion can begin.

"So, how can we help you?" Hafsa starts.

"W-well, it's about the gardening club... Yesterday, I received this notice about the club being shut down--" She quickly reaches for her skirt pocket and pulls out a tightly folded piece of paper. Unraveling it, it reveals a printed note, one that's familiar to the president.

In fact, she had written this very note herself. She vaguely remembers last week's student council activities, which were reading though all of the after-school clubs' monthly reports so they could reassess their budgeting later on.

There was one club, a supposed gardening club, that was only one member strong, and who had little to no reported activities within its records. Without much thought, Hafsa had sent out the dissolution notice convinced it was simply an abandoned club the head had simply forgotten to formally report.

Hafsa scratches her chin. "So you must be..."

"Tiger Priya, freshman. President, a-and only member, of the gardening club." The tigress ducks her head curtly.

"Really..." Hafsa's eyes remain fixed on the notice. She never would have imagined the only member of the gardening club to be such an odd animal.

"S-so," Priya stutters. "I was wondering if it would be possible for the gardening club to... remain active."

The serval's ears flatten as she closes her eyes to think. "Well, as much as I'd like to help, a club should have at least three members and submit the proper monthly reports in order to be given funding..."

"Oh, no, I don't need funding!" The tiger jolts up, frantically waving her hands as if to dismiss the very thought. "I really just need the official status as club. The school won't give me access to the gardens otherwise."

Noticing the student council's look of perplexing, Priya puts her hands on her face, shyly twirling the tufts of fur on her cheeks. "I-I know it's a little bit odd, b-but I really hope you could reconsider. I haven't been here for very long, but taking care of the plants here means a lot to me."

Her icy blue eyes lock on Hafsa's for the first time. "If it's a question of more members, I'll try to get some. I-I can even write down the reports, but there usually isn't much to say. So, c-could you please help, Ms. President?"

Hafsa struggles to hold back tears. Mentally, she takes a knee, and peers up to the high heavens.

Thank you, God, for once again teaching me humility. When I became lost in my arrogance, you sent me this angel in white to remind me what I should be striving for in my holy quest! She's an even larger feline than me, but she's so dainty and soft-spoken... and CUTE!

"Priya, I will do everything in my power to help you." The serval grabs her much larger hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. Priya's eyes widen before closing as her face melts into a gentle smile. Hafsa tries not to cough up blood in jealousy at such a smile.

Solomon suddenly clears his throat, startling the other two felines. "Of course the student council will help you officialize this club. You can focus on getting more club members in April. A good first step for now is to write up your official monthly report for March. It may be a bit late, but we'll make an exception this time."

Priya tilts her head. "T-the thing is I'm not entirely sure how to do that."

Upon hearing that, the caracal swiftly moves towards the large wall of binders and, after few seconds of scanning the shelves, pulls out a hefty white accordion folder. He gently sets the beast of a folder down on Hafsa's desk, and from it, retrieves a blank form.

"This is a template for what you will need to report. As you can see, it's simple things, such as supply stock, spending and/or earnings, notable activities, and so forth. The exact format is not mandatory, but it's a good start for animals who don't know where to begin."

He slides the sheet towards the white tiger and gives a courteous smile. Priya inspects the document curiously.

"I-I see. Thank you very much, Mr. Secretary. I'm afraid I can't fill this out right now, since I'm not certain of what supplies are in the shed. Since I'm the only member, I tend to only use the old material that was left over. Is it alright if I give this back to you later on in the week?"

"Why, yes that's perfectly fi--"

"There's no need to wait!" Hafsa cuts through Solomon's speech, jumping up from her seat. "Why, you and I can check your shed right now and I can help you fill out the form today!"

While Priya interprets this as the president's earnest attempt to help out an underclassman, Hafsa's mind was already swarming with Machiavellian strategies to analyze, deconstruct and repurpose Priya's demure mannerisms. And of course, she needs to get closer to her in order to do that.

"That's very kind of you, Ms. President..." Priya's looks away bashfully, and instead turns to face Desmond. "But, if it's alright with you, I'd like the vice president's help for this."

All eyes fall on Desmond. The sheep doesn't move.

"Huh?"

"W-well, you see..." The tigress explains. "I think I would need a herbivore's expertise when it comes to gardening and whatnot. I don't even know what half the things in the shed are, I'm afraid."

"I can guarantee I know way less than you." Desmond responds hastily, grabbing his lower horn as if to steady himself.

"Well, it doesn't really matter who goes," Solomon interjects. "So if Tiger Priya wishes to be accompanied by the vice president, I see no reason why he shouldn't."

Both Hafsa and Desmond stare at him dumbfounded, but he simply picks up the white binder and goes to return its rightful place on the shelf.

Priya lowers her head. "Um, I promise this will be very quick. I'd hate to waste more of your time."

Those words jostle Hafsa back into her peppy demeanor. "No, no, not at all! Desmond's happy to help, and you can take as long as you need to!" She shoots the sheep a sharp look underneath her enthusiasm. "Right, Desmond?"

He swallows a grimace and nods in agreement. "Of course."

As tiger and sheep prepare to leave for the gardens, Hafsa catches Desmond's sleeve, pulling him aside to the corner of the entrance.

"Desmond, whatever you do, do not harass this poor girl in any way, shape or form, do you understand?" She hisses. "This girl is a saint, and if you get on her case, so help me God, there will be a second attempted predation coming your way very soon."

Desmond chokes back a scoff. "What makes you think I'm going to harass her?!"

"Need I remind you of our very first conversation?"

He flattens his ears. "Why am I the bad guy, anyways?! If you ask me, a random carnie asking a herbie to go with her to an isolated location on a rainy evening is a bit suspicious!"

"You're way too paranoid! She would never do that!"

"How can you be so sure? Have you even met her before today?"

Hafsa winces. "N-no, but fellow carnies have a feel for these things. I mean, is she not the most perfect feline you've ever seen?"

"She most certainly is not. And is your only basis for trusting her the fact that you think she's cute?! Are you six?"

"She IS cute!"

"She's creepy, is what she is!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

Desmond groans in frustration. "Now I'm six apparently."

Hafsa looks down at his disgruntled glower, and finds herself unable to stay mad. After all, Desmond has every right to be distrustful of carnivores, especially felines. It was not long ago that he was assaulted by the very same one he is arguing with now.

"Look," Hafsa whispers. "I'm sorry. You have a point. And even though I know she has no intention of hurting you, you deserve to feel safe. So how about this?"

She leans closer to him, putting a hand to her mouth. Desmond fights the urge to instinctively back up.

"You go with her, and I'll follow you guys from a distance. With this rain, there's no way she'll notice me. If she tries anything, I'll step in. Your very own secret bodyguard. Not bad, right?"

The serval gives him a toothy grin, and Desmond knows he can't say no to that.

"...Fine." He sighs. "This is beyond stupid, but maybe that's just where we are now."

---

With Desmond off to the gardens with Priya, and Hafsa having mysteriously excused herself to "discuss something with her cheerleading squad", Solomon and Brian alone remain in the student council office.

"Hey..." Brian speaks up after some time. "Why did you stop Hafsa from going with that tiger?"

Solomon smirks. "I don't want to encourage bad habits."

Brian has no idea what this means.

"I know exactly what you mean." He nods his head sagely. "But you know, I'm a herbie, too. And I know tons about gardening. I could've gone instead."

Solomon gives him a sly look. "I know. That was selfishness on my part."

"I have a feeling you're secretly a sadist, you know, Sol?"