Archive of Our Own

"Daa-aad! Daa-ad!"

"I wish you wouldn't draw my name out like that, Lucy, I always get this vague idea you've turned into a sheep," Rabbit said - then he was running off again, leaving behind only a cloud of sand and shredded grass.

Lucy shut the door before the mess could blow in, and besides, she didn't really want Fox or Wolf to get it in their heads to jump inside; they were just going past, heading after the travelling dust cloud. She sneezed, and followed it with a groan of frustration - the dust had billowed in through an open window.

"So what would your father like for brunch, then?" Terrapin said as he popped his head round the door from the sitting room, vague triumph in his voice. From what he'd heard of the exchange, he suspected that he'd get to dictate the menu.

"I am this close to not caring at all!" She threw her hands into the air and stomped forth through the kitchen. "I try and help my father out a little and do something nice, I try to have a nice family meal, and for what!"

"To be fair, your father's off trying to avoid being a meal." Terrapin nearly huddled into his shell at the glare Lucy turned on him. "But never mind that! How about I make some suggestions as to what we'll have, instead?"

"Why would I make nice, proper food, if there's no one around to appreciate it? The twins have their porridge, and that'll be good enough for them!"

"I'm sure I would appreciate..." But Lucy had already marched to her room, and Terrapin slumped as she slammed the door.

He took a carrot from the fridge and went to stand by Lucy's door. "It's not easy, you know. Rabbit can't exactly ask Fox and Wolf to stop hunting him." He paused for a mouthful of carrot, and carried on, munching. "Stopping to ask if they want to come round to your debut dinner party really wouldn't be the best move. I think they had crossbows when they ran by just now."

The door slammed open, and Lucy caught it neatly with one paw as it rebounded off the wall. "It's just that I've been planning this all week. Bought all kinds of ingredients last time we went shopping, just in case."

"Mhhm," Terrapin said sympathetically around the carrot.

"And hasn't stood still long enough to tell me what he'd like."

"He probably would have liked anything," Terrapin mumbled.

"That's what he said the first time I asked! 'Oh I'll like anything, Lucy, just mind we don't get too much food poisoning!' Oohh, he makes me seethe!"

"There, there," Terrapin said, trying to use the stub of his carrot as a shield.

Lucy abruptly breathed in ... and breathed out. "You shouldn't talk with your mouth full."

"Thoo-" Terrapin hurriedly swallowed his last bite. "Too right, where are my manners? Now, er, let's relax. Shall we watch some telly?"

For a tense moment Lucy stood stock still, a mutinous look on her face ... then she sighed deeply. "All right. No point getting worked up about it. I think I'll have a couple of carrots too."

She walked over to the kitchen, calling across her shoulder, "Put it on channel six, won't you?"

As she'd turned away, she didn't notice a dark figure by the open kitchen window slip away.

The hunt had been far less than successful. They hadn't hit their prey, but it was probably a blessing, Fox thought sourly, that neither he nor Wolf had actually been injured by the crossbow bolts all the times they'd hit each other. Wolf had mentioned sulkily that he would have to try and pull off the tears in his leather jacket as part of a tough guy "look", or risk the jacket being taken by the Salvation Army.

Wolf was oddly moody today; normally he might bluster his way through such a statement, and at least make a token pretence to his sons that such tears in his clothing were caused by flexing his biceps. Fox ignored the moodiness, as such things might lead to fights and calling off the next day's hunt. He went so far as to call for pizza to keep the cubs from turning into full-blown whining annoyances.

The phone had made odd clicking sounds throughout the call, and the pizza delivery boy had roared up the driveway on a motorcycle completely unlike the normal, sedate scooter. Fox had dismissed it as the doing of an uncouth new employee - but now that he stood at the open front door, looking at the sheep with the pizza, his suspicions stirred.

The sheep wore a cap with a Pizza World logo and held three boxes of pizza; that was as it should be. Fox also noted, however, that there was a green fabric patch sewn directly into the skin around the sheep's left eye, and a zipper that ran from the chest wool to the sheep's chin.

Fox raised his eyebrows to an exquisitely cutting degree (it was at times like this that one felt the payoffs of careful plucking). He felt his intelligence was being insulted to a profound depth, and did not bother to disguise a great sniff.

The whatever-it-was wearing the shoddy sheep costume hopefully raised the pizza boxes.

Fox looked down the length of his nose at it. "Yes," he said. "I'm sure that's what smells so rank."

He turned from the doorstep and spoke over his shoulder. "Wolf, come here, would you? There's some..." Fox let his eyes roam over the animal on the front door step. "Thing for you to attend to." It was best to let Wolf take care of it, in case it was dangerous. Fox was feeling the effects of the day's Rabbit-chase.

"What is it? Aw, Fox, I knew you wouldn't have just--" Wolf thundered into the room like a cub on Christmas.

"Oh. OH. Oh!" Wolf stopped and gazed rapturously at the sheep, then drew closer slowly. "I - I don't know what to say," he said, giving Fox a quick glance before giving his full attention to the sheep. "Won't you come in? While we get the money?"

The sheep skipped over the threshold, allowing itself to be ushered in the direction of the kitchen.

Fox shook his head in disbelief and fell into step alongside Wolf. "I think this is - no, I know - the best present ever!" Wolf said, teary-eyed. He seemed to have missed the little flap that had come unbuttoned over the bottom of the 'sheep', exposing a scrawny pair of legs in black trousers.

He's the brawn, you're the brain, and at the least, you should be used to it by now. It has been a year since you met, Fox thought. He tried on a grin for the benefit of Wolf and the 'sheep'. "Why don't I get the change and you make our little guest comfortable?" he said, heading for his purse.

"Oh, he's not little, Fox! Not at all!" Wolf was foaming at the corner of his mouth as he studied the sheep; it was really rather endearing, if pathetic. The sheep was looking around with interest at the oven and the knife rack, and Fox had to admit that it would have been nice for a leg of lamb to waltz so willingly over the doorstep. But Fox smelled a rat ... no, that was far too small, this must be some other animal.

"Can you make mint sauce?" Wolf asked him. "That's what we really need ... and maybe I should cut a few potatoes. Carbs to get our energy back up! Although we won't need much besides this--" He stared once again at the sheep, and then, overwhelmed, began to dither round the kitchen, pulling out drawers and opening cupboards.

"So," said Fox, slowly counting out the money for the pizza in coins. "Mr Sheep. How long have you been doing these deliveries?"

"Did you say 'mister'?" the sheep asked. "Curse it! I always lose the eyelashes - won't you gentlemen excuse me a moment?" Some rummaging in a small shoulder bag followed. The sheep gave a small "aha!" and pulled out a pair of fake eyelashes, which it then proceeded to put in place - easily and fairly convincingly on the costume's good eye, but on the other side, momentarily forgetting that it was covered by bad patchwork that left nothing to affix the lashes to. The spare eyelashes were rapidly pocketed.

"My name is Baaarbara," said the sheep winsomely. "With three A's, emphasis on the first syllable. It's a cultural thing."

"Indeed," said Fox, and considered letting Wolf simply go wild with the carving knife. He didn't want to waste any wiles on trying to figure out what kind of fool this was.

"Oh, I should call the boys!" Wolf said. "Barry! Simon! Dinner's here!"

The cubs appeared at the kitchen door immediately, jostling each other through. "I told you I heard the doorbell--" "No way! I told you-" "--can smell pepperoni from miles away!"

"Boys, boys, don't fight!" Wolf said, jovially sharpening some knives. "We've got something better then pepperoni!"

Both cubs groaned. "Dad, we told you that you're the only one who likes anchovies!" Barry said.

Wolf was too busy puttering around to take note. "Now, how high to turn up the oven?"

"We can use the microwave, Dad." Simon rolled his eyes with great exaggeration.

"You've got a lot to learn, son!" Wolf bounded over to punch him lightly on the shoulder, then leapt back to the oven. "A microwave wouldn't do justice to the taste of that."

"We always heat up the pizzas in the microwave," Simon pointed out.

Wolf only laughed. "You're in for a real treat today then, boys!"

"Is Mr Weasel invited too?" Barry asked. "We'll have to get more pizzas, if he is. Hey, Mr Weasel, why are you in that costume?"

"I think you forgot to tug the legs of the costume into your boots. They're trailing along behind you, and it kind of ruins the effect," Simon pointed out helpfully, as Fox stared at him and his brother. Idiot savants, indeed.

"Will Weasel," Fox guessed, looking the fake sheep in the eye. "That famously innovative detective, here in our humble town and Wolf's even humbler kitchen. For what reason for, one might wonder?"

"Huh?" said Wolf. Then he screamed, as the sheep unzipped and yanked its head backwards.

"That's Wild Will Weasel, if you don't mind," Weasel said, whipping a finger at Fox in censure as if he had delusions of being a quickdraw gunslinger. "And I am here to follow up on some ... complaints."

"Does this have anything to do with the other day when you spoke to us at school?" Simon asked. "Because you gotta know, Barry and I totally didn't do anything in the Glue Gun Incident--"

"That was just part of my investigation," Weasel said, at the same time as Fox said, "You may leave, boys," just to get them out of the way and carry on. The cubs vanished with one of the pizzas and more garbled protests of innocence.

Fox and Weasel eyed each other. Finally Fox said, "I believe you mentioned something about complaints? 'Wild Weasel'."

Weasel's eyes narrowed. "Did you two think you could get away with it? With all the wary sheep around here? Well, let it be known that the eyes of the law are watching you!"

Fox looked at the sheep costume and looked at the flapping woollen legs that Simon had pointed out, and could feel nothing but underwhelmed. He turned to share a disbelieving look with Wolf, but Wolf was looking at the floor, shattered. "No sheep..." he murmured.

Fox looked back to Weasel. "I can't imagine what the law would want with us."

Weasel pulled himself up to the fullness of his height. "You can't? Of all the lawless, foul... I know out of the way rural areas like this - you predators think you can get away with anything. But I'll give you a hint as to the problem." He was trembling and paused to regain control of himself, and then he hissed: "You don't eat your neighbours!"

"Oh," said Fox. "That."

"Wolf!" Weasel cried. "Your own sons are better than you! Peaceably, they keep to pizza, while you, you, you bare your fangs at any innocent you come across..." Words seemed to fail him.

"No eating..." Wolf said, still devastated.

"Of course you eat - but only of designated, donated meats. You can't go tearing anyone apart as if you know nothing more than a kitten going after a string! Why, I--"

"You," said Wolf ... and suddenly there was a wide-awake look to him. He frowned at the detective. "Hey, you're a weasel! And you're telling me that you ... are rounding us up for hunting?"

"Of course I am!" Weasel said proudly.

"You - a carnivore. A predator. A weasel!"

"Never a predator!" Weasel cried. "I am a city animal, and I will never do something as barbaric as hunting - even in the Canadian backwoods." Wolf growled at Weasel's sneer. "The authorities trust me so much as to give me a warrant to enter Rabbit's house and search it, though he has three young ones!"

Weasel put a paw to one eyes to catch a stray tear. "You don't know what you've done to that household. My investigation has revealed that the children have been all but abandoned by their father - the eldest can't so much as talk to him for days on end, with you harassing him!"

"Oh," said Fox, in a voice dripping with compassion and shock. "A warrant, you say? To enter Rabbit's house without a single legal complication? Why, I can hardly believe what you say Wolf and I have done to the happy little family. And with that warrant, this the perfect chance to show us."

"Show you?"

"That we may repent. And ask Rabbit and his family to forgive us."

"Fox, are you nut-- I mean," said Wolf. "Us. In Rabbit's house, where he is right now, exhausted from the chase."

They were all silent for a moment, Weasel and Wolf contemplating, and Fox making silent but heartfelt wishes regarding this unexpected chance.

"We could even do some cleaning," Wolf said. "Wouldn't want young, uh, Whatshername, I mean Lucy to be stuck doing that all alone while her daddy's ... out."

"Out being chased by you!" Weasel said. He began to tremble with indignation as he said, "Yes, I believe I will show you. Then you can look at what you've done and feel all the shame you deserve."

As they walked next door, Wolf began to look dejected again. "So ... there wasn't really any big, special meal delivered to my door, huh?"

"In a manner of speaking--" Fox said with a toothy grin, and broke off when Wolf shook his head, and sniffled. No self-respecting sniff to catch a scent - just a rather embarrassing, sad sniffle.

"Anyway," said Wolf determinedly, "Sheep's clothing to trick your way in... Have we ever used that? It's a pretty good idea."

"Well, we won't need to trick our way in here today," Fox said. He put on a reassuringly placid face as Weasel looked around suspiciously.

Weasel couldn't open the door fast enough for their tastes, his skeleton key jiggling the lock ferociously. "Hang on," came a muffled shout from inside, all unsuspecting, "who's there?"

Then they were in, two members of the party wearing enormous, toothy grins.

It had been a long time since Rabbit had been afraid of timber wolves, what with two members of the species being beaten up by his daughter on a semi-regular basis, and one being completely incapable of catching him. But as one stood there in the entrance to his house, the walls seemed to press too close and make Wolf far too big.

"Dad, who is it?" Lucy called out after a moment's silence. "Dad?" she repeated as she went over. "Oh, hello, Mr Wolf and Mr Fox ... and Mr Fake ... Sheep ... Clown? If this has anything to do with Barry and Simon, they did it. I'm being framed."

"M-my name is W-wild Will Weasel. Excuse me, please, just a moment." Weasel's eyes shimmered with tears to finally speak to the poor, burdened child, and he turned aside to get himself under control.

"Would you like to sit down, Mr Weasel?" Lucy asked, concerned.

"No!" Weasel suddenly whipped into a pose, arms akimbo and standing with his legs apart. He turned his head to look at Fox and Wolf, who had been caught by his elbows as they crept closer to the trembling Rabbit. "Do you see now?" he cried. "How could you harm such an innocent little girl, even indirectly? I'm afraid I can tell you now, Fox and Wolf - the both of you will have to be deported far away from here!"

"Far?" Rabbit gasped, reaching for the hope like a swimmer reaches for air. "Not here? Getting closer? There are walls everywhere why can't I run I can't run I--"

"Deported!" Lucy said, no longer sweetly concerned. Her eyes were narrowed in fierce suspicion. "Look, what's going on here?"

"May we sit?" Weasel asked. "I'll explain."

"This way," said Lucy. As the entire party stepped forwards, Rabbit scraped together just enough brainpower to dash ahead of them - and there, on the sitting room couch, he saw safety.

"Lucy," said Terrapin.

"Oh dear!" said Lucy.

"I've heard good things about turtle soup," Fox said in an undertone to Wolf. "I'm sure terrapin-rabbit soup would be interesting..."

"Your father appears to be in my shell." Terrapin made a straining motion away. "His top half, at least, while his bottom half is kicking me into a concussion."

"I can see that," Lucy said. "Can you both fit? Doesn't that hurt? Dad! Can you hear me? Are you all right?"

"WOLVES!" boomed out of Terrapin's shell, echoing. "FOXES! WEASELS! Before you know it, bears, panthers, eagles!" And then in a conversational tone, "Just so you know, Terrapin, I'm moving in."

"My neck just broke," said Terrapin.

"Mr Rabbit, you misunderstand!" Weasel said, leaning over to speak at the area around Terrapin's chest. "I'm here to help! The others are here to repent. But that's all right too--" Here he turned, to glare at Fox and Wolf. "Look what you've done to him!" Then he turned back to Terrapin's chest. "They have too many transgressions not to be deported! Over thirty attempted murders with intent to ingestion - they'll never ever come near you again!"

Rabbit popped from Terrapin's shell like a cork from a bottle. "'Never', you say, Mr Weas- Wea- Wild Will?"

"Never?" Lucy said. "Does that mean Barry and Simon too? Are you going to make them leave as well?"

"Of course," Weasel said. "Though they're good kids, it wouldn't do to have them running around alone - that would be tempting fate after the example they've grown up with."

"Well said! When do they leave?" Rabbit asked. "Only I think these two are getting ready to leap across the table at me."

"Us? No. Don't be ridiculous," Wolf said, as Fox smiled charmingly and eased out of his pre-pouncing crouch.

Weasel stared balefully at them. "They will leave immediately once I present my evidence. My superiors will have no objections under circumstances such as these."

"Right!" Rabbit said. "Attempted ingestions, and whatnot! These are murderous, foul creatures, my good Wild Will!"

"Foul," Fox said indignantly, returning from the kitchen with a knife for cutting vegetables. "I hardly think someone with that shirt on is capable of judging what is 'foul'."

Lucy dragged Weasel around to face her by the sheep's head hanging from his back and shook her head vehemently. "Don't listen to my dad. Never listen to my dad. It's a lesson I learned from long experience."

"She's at that age," Rabbit said hastily. "Always thinks she knows better than me, her father, though I'm older, wiser--" He was cut off by two dollops of porridge that flew across the room to smack into his forehead. "Peter! Emily! How could you?"

He turned back to Weasel with a simper. "They're all at that age? Albeit ... different ... that ages."

"We're all friends here!" Lucy said. "Barry and Simon are my very best friends, and Dad gets along really well with Wolf and Fox!"

"What?" came from around the room in four voices (Terrapin was the odd one out who stayed silent, as he was mostly moaning softly on the couch and massaging his head). Fox and Wolf even dropped the knives in astonishment.

"That's why I get so mad at him sometimes - he's always out playing about with them," Lucy said. "It's all one big game of chase with them, no matter if no one gets caught and no one gets rendered unable to keep making the chase. It's been a whole year since the Wolf family moved next door - don't you think there would have been permanent damage by now, if they were serious?"

Rabbit's mouth simply opened and closed, and Weasel looked astonished. Fox felt as if he were about to forget himself entirely and say something uncouth to the girl at that utter rubbish.

Wolf said, "She remembered."

Now they gazed at him. "Pardon?" said Weasel.

"Lucy remembered about the anniversary of when we moved in. Obviously it's important to her." He was staring straight ahead, but then his gaze flickered towards Fox - and then turned indignantly away again.

"Is there something you're trying to get at, Wolf?" Fox asked suspiciously.

"You barely even said thank you for the crossbow! I don't think you even know why I got it for you. I thought you got me a big mutton meal, so fresh it walked up to the front door ... and it's fake! You ... you didn't get me anything for the anniversary, did you?" Wolf seemed one more word away from howling.

"I did remember the day, I just didn't know--" Fox began, but Wolf shook his head impatiently.

"My previous wife complained about how I forgot special days - and you know what? I think I understand now!"

Fix stared fixedly at Wolf. "Did you say previous wife?"

"Yes, I did," Wolf snapped. "Previous, as in former, as in ex. Don't you try and change the subject - this is about you and me!"

Wolf's voice was trembling dangerously. Fox knew that though Wolf prized manly dignity while possessing very little, and judged it best to allow Wolf to keep a touch of it.

Besides. He had other things to think about: the connotations of words, the nature of the partnership of a year, and a gift to get in the next half hour.

"I planned your gift to be a surprise," Fox said, sliding to in front of Wolf and putting a soothing paw on his shoulder. "But those incompetents at the delivery service seem to have decided the surprise will be if it shows up before the day is out."

"You mean you did remem--?"

"Oh, I'll sort out the delivery right away." Fox stepped over to Weasel. "Mr Wild Will Weasel," he said. "You have taught me my lesson utterly. I hope your kind of hunting - without bloodshed - continues to be as successful as it's been today."

He left Weasel beaming and saying goodbyes to Rabbit with a glad heart, and Wolf confounded, fit only to be ushered out of Rabbit's house by Weasel. As for Fox, he immediately went home and left it shortly afterwards with a reel of fishing line, and then followed the track of Wild Will Weasel's motorbike on the dirt road to a place where two trees stood close to the road, on opposite sides. He strung several lengths of fishing line up tightly and low.

A weasel is a sly and ferocious creature, capable of tearing apart an animal far larger than itself, never mind your average, slinking fox.

A weasel in a sheep suit is a creature trapped in a skin thrice its size that offers limited vision, and this is certainly not an average Fox.

The woods were too deep for anyone to hear the roar of a motorbike engine - and a squeaky scream - cut abruptly short.

But the cries of delight at Wolf's house over his new motorbike, with only a few scratches that were hardly visible, travelled far.

Fox ignored the likelihood of indigestion and took a triumphant bite of pizza, eyeing Wolf revving his bike.

Hunting had gone well indeed.