Serval and Sheep (Chapter 22)
Priya and Desmond take inventory on the gardening club's shed.
Desmond wonders if somehow, his wool has secretly smelled of catnip his whole life. Or maybe, he had been a cattail in his past life. Why else does he attract such complicated felines?
He reminisces miserably on these existential doubts while desperately trying to avoid contact, both visual and physical, with the large albino tigress with whom he shared a wide transparent umbrella. Fortunately for him, Priya's impressive stature made it so their gazes seldom met, and she seems to have the common sense to maintain a reasonable distance while also pacing her strides to match his shorter legs.
"U-um," The lanky feline starts (apparently she doesn't have enough common sense to keep quiet). "Thank you for helping me, Mr. Vice President."
"It's fine." He responds curtly. Her voice is as docile as a herbivore's; no easy feat for a tiger. Desmond starts to understand why Hafsa was so lovestruck with her.
Speaking of Hafsa...
He quickly glances behind him. Nothing. Carnies really know how to conceal themselves when they want to. Even though she had promised to secretly tail them, Desmond's instinctual unease at this entire situation still festers in the pit of his stomach like a virus.
Something isn't right. Rather, it's too right. The sheep prides himself on his judgement when it comes to carnivorous intent. He saw right through a certain serval's act day one, and his conviction was quickly proven right. The same goes for the caracal.
Carnies, no matter how friendly they may appear, always have ulterior motives. So why is it that, as much as he squints and scrutinizes, he can't seem to find a trace of ill intent on this tiger?
He had expressed his mistrust to Hafsa, but really, it was a knee-jerk reaction. Even now, this garden shed trip raises too many red flags to be innocent. Looking at Priya now, it's kind of shocking how honest she is. Her nervousness isn't pretend, her shyness isn't pretend, her gratitude isn't pretend. He begins to feel a little silly for roping Hafsa into playing bodyguard.
Maybe it was the rainy day washing away all of his senses, only leaving a gray cloud where his brain should be, but she genuinely appears to mean no harm. Maybe spending all that time with Hafsa mellowed him out in the worst way possible. If he loses his acuity in spotting problematic predators, he might as well be a newborn kid thrown into the black market.
Or maybe...
Maybe he was growing. Maybe he doesn't need to assume the worst anymore. All he can do is close his eyes and make the leap.
"We're almost there. See look, this is the garden." Priya says softly, almost drowned out by the pitter-pattering of the raindrops on the umbrella.
She points at the green around them. Patches of tulips, bushes filled with hydrangeas and chrysanthemums, and nests of zinnias neatly colored the wet soil. Further down, a lone scarebug stood guard over a barren vegetable patch. Too cold to grow veggies, it seems. It was a humble but comely scene.
"I always though the school took care of it." Desmond comments.
"I guess the club has never been that popular..." She puts on a pensive smile. "Just before enrolling here, I went to an open house of this academy. There was this big fair for all the after-school activities, and that's where I first heard about the gardening club. The only members were two seniors, a giraffe and a gazelle I think, and they needed new members to join or else the club would disappear when they graduated.
I-I wanted to help them, so I said I'd join. And they made me president on the spot! I was the president and only member before I even enrolled!" She giggles. "It's a funny story, isn't it?"
"I think you got scammed."
"Maybe..." she sheepishly fiddles with the tube of her nasal cannula. "But I like gardening, so I don't particularly mind."
Desmond silently watches the transparent tube twirl around, before quickly realizing how rude it is to stare. Priya's blue eyes narrow in amusement.
"Curious about this?" She unzips the small pouch that is strapped to her hip, revealing a canister-like object, about the size of a water bottle, attached to the other end of the tube.
"No, I didn't mean--" The sheep awkwardly protests.
"It's fine, I don't mind." She grins. "My lungs have always had some problems. Congenital. I use this to help out my breathing. It gives me extra oxygen." She gently pats the oxygen tank before rezipping the pack.
Desmond lowers his gaze to the wet pavement below. "I'm sorry. That sounds rough."
"Don't be." She chirps. "In sickness, one appreciates wellness. My strengths are as powerful as my weaknesses." Her icy irises widen, surprised by her own speech. "Sorry. That was weird, wasn't it?"
"N-no. It was... deep." Desmond says, somewhat dumbly. He truly can't make heads or tails of her. Her optimism is endearing, at least.
After a smattering of smalltalk, the odd duo arrive at the gardening shed, tucked away amongst some tall pines behind the main school building.
Priya hastily unlocks the ancient door and beckons her guest to go inside. Just from looking at it, the shed is murky, cluttered, and damp from the rain. All of Desmond's instincts are screaming "enter and you die".
But he enters. He shakily grabs his phone from his pocket to use as a flashlight and inspects the area. Old musty junk lines the rotting wooden shelves. Broken tools, expired seeds, gloves with half the fingers missing... the two seniors who swindled Priya into this club certainly didn't leave her with a beginner's kit. He absentmindedly kicks a dust-caked sack of fertilizer and sighs.
"I don't know what to tell you," he turns to face the tigress, who timidly waits at the entrance. "I really don't get gardening. But it's clear your club, even if it's just you, needs funding. Just list all of these items in the report and I'm sure we can move the budget around to at least afford some new seeds or something."
"Oh, I really don't need the money," Priya says, flinching at a raindrop that fell on her forehead from the leaky ceiling. "I bring tools from home, and most days, I only need to weed and water the plants. I suppose if I get new members I'd have to think about it, though."
She quietly inches closer to the smaller animal. "To be honest... this trip was mostly an excuse."
There it is.
Desmond's blood freezes. "An excuse... for what?" He croaks.
"Well..." She takes a step towards him. A carnie step. Within two paces, she's already in front of him. With the light of the entrance against her, her face is darkened into obscurity. Except those piercing blue eyes.
Hafsa, please help.
"I'm actually a huge fan of ram fighting."
...Huh?
"Gosh, this is so embarrassing!" Priya claps her hands to her fluffy cheeks. "I've actually been dying to meet you ever since that exhibition match you did back in January! It was so cool! When you had that ibex in a three-quarter facelock and then did that two-handed bulldog, I nearly fell out of the bleachers! And that final throw was impeccable!"
Huh?
"They said on the brochure that the ram fighting team in Noah's Arc was really good-- I mean you guys won the SWNT how many times in a row-- but live matches really are a completely different thing than just watching them on ZooTube!"
Huh???
"So I hope I'm not being too tactless, but I'm really looking forward to your match tomorrow! But anyways, look at me blabber on. Let's take inventory."
Huh??????
Hafsa ducks out of sight as soon as the tiger and sheep exit the shed. The former excitedly prattles on about throws and holds, spinning her umbrella merrily, while the latter blankly nods, caught in a daze while clumsily traipsing along.
Drenched and cold, she had positioned herself against the damp molded wall of the back of shed. With her superior hearing, she was able to safely overhear what went on inside without risk of being sniffed out (any animal's nose would be distracted by the stench of mildew).
For a second, she thought Desmond was in danger. But what happened next stopped her dead in her tracks before she could bust through the rickety wall.
She quietly watches the pair putter out of sight, fading into the misty drizzle.
Alone, with only the rain as her wetness, she allows her mouth to freely exclaim her thoughts.
"HUH?!"