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At times, it was impossible to tell which was colder: the winter chill or the tabloid newspapers.
Even in Savannah Central, winter had taken hold. Tundra Town was experiencing record lows so frigid they interfered with the operation of vehicles, and snow fell in Sahara Square in the dead of night. All over the city mammals were wearing coats over their fur or skin, and shivering as they exchanged platitudes about the weather.
It was in her thickest winter coat (a dark blue number from Elands Saint Laurent) that Canidae walked down Acacia street with a mind as far from the sidewalk as could be. The streets weren't as occupied as they would be on a summer's eve, but intermittently, mammals passed her by. She felt their eyes against her as she avoided their glances, and she couldn’t stop thinking about what she had seen on that news stand.
ICE COLD: Our Frigid Mayor Runner-Up
Canidae Christmas Cake – Too Old?
Enough to drive a woman to drink, and then some.
Canidae was drinking. Coffee. It was still hot, emanating through the cup and against her paw pads. She had just been to the café, a modest little spot good enough to stay viable in a Snarlbucks world. After a cup (and more biscotti than she would like to admit), she purchased another tiramisu latte and went on her way.
Now she was regretting ever leaving.
The café had a fireplace, it had soft music and warm lighting. It wasn’t like the cold streets of Savannah Central, the halogen streetlamps, and the passing din of cars. Occasionally, a glowing string of Christmas lights shone against her fur. With her apartment a fifteen minute walk away, she began to regret her desire for some brisk night air. This night wasn’t brisk; it was torturous.
The cold meant the streets were nearly deserted of pedestrians. Canidae walked by an alley, mind on the opinions of her constituents. Why should she be beholden to their words if cruelty was all their were interested in? The callous disregard for her feelings - oh yes, she had them. If only Swinton had made a few more missteps, if only she had waited to make her conciliatory phone call - out of her self-pitying stupor, a sharp sound startled her. She stopped in her tracks and nearly spilled her coffee. Slowly, she turned and walked toward the entrance between two closed, quiet businesses and poked her head into the darkness.
The alley was crowded with dumpsters taller than she was, and a seemingly endless array of recycling bins. Even with Canidae’s night vision she could barely make anything out. Just as she was poised to turn and walk away, again the shrill cry coaxed her in. She moved toward the source of the sound and, kneeling down, placed her paper cup on the pavement. A mass of off-white cloth sat in front of her. No. Was it moving? Or motionless? No no. She reached out, unsure of what her paws would find. No no no. If she picked this up, would it be yet another thing with which the press would find fault? Over and over she whispered no as she carefully unwrapped the fabric from whatever was inside.
Inside was a deer no older than two months, eyes as wide as Canidae’s as they beheld each other.
A moment later, the fawn began to cry.
Instinctively, Canidae gathered it up. She pulled the fawn under her coat protectively, shielding it from the cold air. She could feel it writhing and crying out, and she held it close to her body. In an instant, she turned to make her way back to the street, alight with the purpose of a woman's obligation. At the entrance to the alley, she paused. Her thoughts were racing urgently, conflicted.
What was she to do with a fawn? She couldn’t simply take it home. She had to report it, and if she recalled a precinct was just down the street.
Canidae hummed softly under her breath as errant snowflakes drifted down across her vision. She hadn’t planned the melody nor thought of a song, but she carried on just like that. She cradled the fawn and rocked it in time with her steps so that the jostling of the motion would disturb it less. Against her better judgment, Canidae pulled open her coat to take a brief second glance at the fawn. The doe.
She always wanted a girl, didn’t she? Or two? She could feel her resting against her chest, her cries faded to placated silence. It felt good to carry her, like her arms had always longed for the sensation. She never had any dolls growing up, and no one to teach her how to care for them.
As the police precinct came into view, Canidae’s steps grew slightly hurried. The snowfall was increasing, white powder gathering on her shoulders. She didn’t want to be outside much longer. The glow of the interior, like firelight, seemed warmer than she could imagine. Police stations weren’t exactly places of warmth, but compared to the streets in winter, anything was better.
The goat at the intake desk looked up from a newspaper as the snow-covered wolf pushed the doors open with her shoulders. Canidae stood there at the doorway, shaking her body to shift clumps of melting snow onto the floor. White snow tumbled off her black fur and hair.
“Great.” The goat muttered. Canidae peered at his badge. Officer Ruminski. “Everyone who walks in here in winter gets snow all over the precinct floor, and I have to get someone up here to put out the wet floor sign and mop it up. What’s the problem, lady? Coffee shop run out of doughnuts?”
Canidae took a few steps forward, peeking into her coat to make sure the fawn was still well. She answered without meeting the goat’s eyes.
“Pots have learned to talk and they’re calling kettles black; why am I not surprised?” She tilted her head up and watched with amusement as the goat’s expression turned from annoyance to realization.
“Oh, oh, miss, I’m so sorry, uh, Councilwoman. What can I do for you? Is this a surprise inspection?” His eyes narrowed and he quizzed with more incredulity. “Are you even on the committee that oversees precinct operations?”
“No. Stop speaking for a moment, please, Officer Ruminski.” Canidae raised one paw, while the other still cradled the fabric of her coat. Slowly, she reached down and opened it, revealing the naked little fawn in the cloth Canidae had taken with her. She was sleeping. The precinct, thankfully, was quiet. No one liked to commit crimes when it was snowing in Savannah Central.
Ruminski balked. “Is she- who is- where did you- do you-”
Canidae calmly held the fawn in her arms and spoke clearly, cutting the goat off. “No. I don’t know. In the street. No. I don’t know anything about her. I heard her crying from the sidewalk and went to investigate. What I found…” She shook her head, expression pained. “How could this happen?”
With a long sigh, Ruminski turned to the computer and began to tap away at the keyboard.
“Happens all the time. Single mother, poor family, unexpected pregnancies… This city isn’t all glitz and glamour. I guess a woman of your station doesn’t have any experience with that.”
Canidae gazed down at the bundle in her arms.
“I organize charity galas on a monthly basis, Officer.”
“So, you sip champagne and charm donations out of other mammals who have never seen the grimy side of Zootopia, great. Listen, lady, that’s all well and good, but all the money in the world won’t stop things like this from happening. Anyway, I’m looking up recent births and missing fawn reports, but these things take time.”
Canidae had been admonished into silence, and she chewed her lip as the officer spoke. The doe in her arms felt impossibly light; too small to make it through the season in an orphanage.
“If that’s all, just put it down, miss. I’ll have someone keep it overnight, maybe a day or two, and it’ll go to an orphanage if we can’t find the parents… But you know, even if we do, they may want to put it up for adoption officially.”
“There’s no need for that.”
“Miss?”
Canidae was holding her phone in one paw, the fawn in the other. She shot the goat a meaningful glance.
"I was just thinking how right you were. That donations don't do as much as actions could. Sort of like all those donations my estate has made to the ZPD, all the things my father has done to outfit the police with the equipment to do their jobs..."
"But I don't think you can-"
"I’ve texted my driver. I’m taking this fawn home. I'm perfectly capable, unless you think my donations and my attempts at help are unwarranted? Come now. At least until you find something out. You call me the moment you do. Yes? Amenable? Or do I need to file a complaint?”
Stammering, the goat began typing her name into the file he had opened. “Yes miss, I’ll take down the information from your file. Are you sure about this? I mean, I'm sure I can get a janitor to watch her.”
“Perfectly sure. Goodnight Officer.”
“Merry Christmas, miss.”
--
“Are you sure you don’t want some assistance, miss Canidae? I could call someone. Miss Sarchus, perhaps? She’s raised children.”
Canidae’s driver pulled open her door and she stepped out past him. The lynx dutifully pushed the door closed and turned to see her peeking at the fawn in her arms again.
“Don’t worry. I’d rather not disturb Andrea during her time with her family… I just want to do this, alright?”
If she called her bodyguard, she would doubtless convince her to let the proper channels do as they do. That hyena was nothing if not pragmatic. But this was only for a night or two...
“Yes miss. Don’t hesitate to call if you need a ride. We’ll have someone on staff.”
“Thank you.”
They parted ways, and Canidae heard the sedan pulling away as the wide-eyed doormammal greeted her and gestured to the entrance of the building. She immediately felt the interior warmth of her apartment and made her way to the elevator hastily, eager to get the fawn to her apartment so that she could take stock of the task in front of her.
A few minutes and several dozen floors later, Canidae arrived at the penthouse apartment and punched in her code. Inside, the air conditioning had kept the empty halls a cozy seventy-five degrees Fuhrenheit.
She gently placed the fawn onto the couch with a few pillows.
"Wait a moment, darling."
With that, Canidae began fussing around the house looking for an appropriately warm blanket to replace those dirty rags the fawn was wearing. Something from the kitchen - a towel? No, something softer. Her bedspread, no, that would be too much. Canidae even stood in front of her closet door gazing at her own clothes and opened drawers of unmentionables before deciding that, no, that would be absurd. At long last she settled on a throw blanket from the arm of a chair in the living room. She threw the rags away and wrapped the fawn up loosely and gently.
For a moment, she stared at her, unsure of what she had gotten herself into.
Canidae couldn’t bear to have left her in the brisk precinct for however long. With a bit of effort and some research online, it couldn’t be that hard to take care of an infant. Except…
It struck her suddenly. Formula. Oh no. She wasn’t a mother, and she couldn’t feed a fawn in the natural way. There were so many details she had conveniently forgotten, just like that cup of coffee sitting in the alley several blocks away.
Oh no. Even worse, she remembered another detail of her planned evening. She had forgotten her arrangement to have a friend over for the evening, and he would arrive within the hour. A thousand excuses ran through her mind: I'm ill. I'm tired. I'm washing my hair. After much internal debate she came to the only conclusion that made sense, and pressed two on her speed dial.
“Aurelia?”
“Lucius, I’m terribly sorry, I know you’re on your way, but I need you to pick something up at the store.”
“Anything, my dear, just name it.”
“Fawn formula, diapers, and baby bottles.”
Canidae winced as she heard Lucius’ audible gasp on the other end of the line. There was a heavy pause before he spoke again.
“Is that all?”
“Ah… Um… Maybe something sweet?”
She could feel his smile glowing.
“I’ll try to bring something sweeter than you.” With a knowing chortle, Lucius hung up, leaving Canidae once again alone with the fawn.
Canidae returned to the couch and kneeled beside it. In her hurry to get the fawn somewhere comfortable and safe, she had forgotten to remove her coat. Slowly she sank onto the couch, resting her head next to the fawn and her arms around it as her knees pressed against the cream-colored carpet. Her lupine ears focused on the sound of the fawn breathing, and she gradually fell asleep beside her.
An hour of undisturbed slumber ended with a brusque knock on the door. Canidae flinched and pushed herself up with some difficulty, taking a quick look at the dozing fawn and hurrying to the door before Lucius banged it down in his typical manner.
“Your knuckles must be made of lead, Lucius.” Canidae grumbled as she whipped the door open and gestured him inside. She took off her coat while she was there in the entry way.
There was a dusting of snow on the good Doctor Howlgrave’s shoulders. He shook himself off in the foyer, getting droplets and snowflakes onto the walls and floor. Instead of his usual suit, he was wearing slacks and a thick, obnoxiously-patterned sweater. The large, heavy-set wolf grinned down at Canidae.
“I was running a bit late, and was so excited to see you. Do excuse the chill. Oh, but you should be used to it, shouldn’t you Aurie? Growing up in Tundra Town as you did. And you’ve certainly put on enough padding over the years to keep you warm, eh?” Lucius’ rumbling laughter rose to the roof as he gently nudged Canidae’s soft side.
Flustered, Canidae shushed Lucius harshly, waving her paws in a motion that she hoped would quiet him down.
“Lucius!” Her words were a punitive whisper. “Lucius. Look on the couch.”
Lucius’ ears raised up and he gingerly stepped toward the plush white couch, unsure of what he would find. The sight of the white-speckled bottom of a little fawn, even given that he was holding a box of fawn formula, shocked him. He marched to the kitchen island near where Canidae was standing and unloaded his cargo: the formula box and bottle, the diapers, and a tin of Christmas cookies emblazoned with a winking reindeer.
As Lucius adjusted to his surroundings, a perceptive smirk turned up the corners of his lips. His teeth revealed, he turned to Canidae and taunted,
“My dear, you don’t have a single decoration up. How can you expect to properly give this child a Christmas?”
Canidae fumbled for her words, half-scowling, and pushed Lucius gently. “You know I’m not the holiday sort. Now. Help yourself to the pantry and the bar and stay out of my hair for a moment while I fix this formula up, alright?”
“Whatever you say, Aurie.” Lucius lilted as half-danced toward the pantry to hunt for a bottle of wine.
Canidae carefully mixed the formula and warmed it slightly in a pot on the stove. Over and over she read the box to make sure of the appropriate amount, the perfect temperature. She could hear Lucius in her pantry behind her, moving things and clinking bottles together. As Canidae bottled the formula up, screwing the nipple on tightly, she beheld the object in her paws for a moment. It was an odd thing for her to hold, a baby bottle. She couldn’t quite recall ever having seen one in real life. She wrapped the thing up in a dish towel and knelt next to the fawn.
“Um… Hello.” She spoke awkwardly to her. The fawn had opened her eyes when Lucius first entered, as jovial as a seasonal commercial. The fawn cooed and squealed up at Canidae, and Canidae was unsure of how to respond. She moved to sit on the couch, then gathered the fawn up into her lap. She nudged the nipple of the bottle forward as the fawn’s lips parted.
“Time to eat, you must be hungry, hmm?” Canidae was surprised at her own tone, her words. She hadn’t learned to speak with such gentleness from any parent, that was for sure. Perhaps it was simply a nurturing disposition that was inside her all these years.
The fawn gratefully suckled at the bottle of formula, and Canidae found the sound to be oddly soothing for a few minutes. Then Lucius stumbled out of the kitchen with the wine and a pair of glasses, which he had already poured.
"Time to drink to our sorrows - and joys - eh, Aurie?"
“Lucius, please. Leave the wine in the kitchen. I won’t be having any tonight, but you’re welcome to it. I need to stay level-headed… for her.”
“Hmph.” Lucius grunted, wounded. He set the wine on the counter and paced into the living room. “Rather unbecoming, isn’t it? A predator nursing a prey like this? Surely they’ve got other prey to help them.”
Canidae turned her head up and shot withering stare in the old wolf’s direction. “She had no one that I could see when I found her in that alley.”
Lucius paused. “I hadn’t realized. Well, it is a nice thing to do, I suppose. For Christmas. But you’ll need to get some decorations.”
“Lucius…”
“And a tree.”
“Please…”
“And a load of wrapped, ribboned presents!”
Canidae was silent.
“What’s the matter, I- …oh. I’m sorry Aurie, sometimes I forget about the circumstances of your…”
“My what, Lucius?”
“Your childhood. Your father. He was just… trying to protect you, you know, raise you to be as smart as him. And without your mother, it was hard.”
Canidae closed her eyes, trying to focus her ears on the fawn’s gentle suckling.
"A birthday cake on your birthday, a present under a tree - but you're so lucky to have grown up in that house, under that great mammal's guidance."
“Don’t. Just… Stop talking about my father. I’ve heard enough about him. I’m done. You know the reason I don’t care for this season and all this holiday ridiculousness is because of him. You know full well he cared more about the bottle than-”
“Come now… Aurie, dear, you can’t believe that.”
Canidae grimaced. She had to avoid raising her voice. She had to consider this fawn in ways she herself had never been considered.
“When she’s done eating, I’m going to make a bed for her, and you’re going to take a moment to collect yourself before we discuss anything further.”
Lucius sighed. He was defeated. “Yes, Aurie.” He decided it best to give Canidae her space, and slunk off sipping his wine.
For another few minutes, Canidae let the fawn nurse the bottle until it was empty. She set it aside and pulled in her lips, fighting the urge to cry. The fawn looked up at her with bright eyes unblemished by her own predicament. Her broad black nose glistened with a few drops of spilled milk.
“You have the most beautiful eyelashes.” Canidae whispered reverently as she cradled the fawn’s head in her paw and stroked the short fur there with her thumb. The fawn gazed back up at her, too young to laugh, but not too young to smile. It melted the wolf’s heart.
“You deserve a chance, yes you do. You’re so cute.” Canidae spoke gently and rocked the fawn, who yawned and gradually began to fall back asleep. What a relief. With a grunt, Canidae got to her feet and moved closer to the glass-covered electric fireplace near the seating area. She placed the fawn, still wrapped in a blanket, on a cushy chair close by and clicked the fire on. Immediately, licking flames popped up and emanated a cozy warmth.
“Aurelia?” Lucius was standing on the other side of the room, holding a plate of cookies. He had emptied the tin, he must have, and was presenting them with the tip of his tail wagging. “You asked for something sweet, and a Howlgrave never fails.”
Canidae couldn’t resist a smirk, a wry one, if only to signal that she wasn’t entirely at the end of her rope after the slight altercation earlier. She drew away from the deer with a palpable hesitance and walked over to Lucius, taking a cookie when she neared him.
“Gingerbread? Lucius… You’re a regular Christmas cretin.”
Lucius chuckled and raised an eyebrow skeptically. “You admonish me as if you didn’t know. Who is it that organizes the Bared Fang’s annual Christmas party hmm? Me. Who is it that the kiddies mistake for Santa Claws? That would be me, my dear, thanks in no small part to our fine dining.”
Canidae took a large bite of a gingerbread fox and hid her laughter behind her chewing.
“And you stink of alcohol. What is that aroma?”
“Eggnog, Aurie, hot and spiced.”
“You brought eggnog into my home? You lummox.”
Lucius grinned, holding the plate of cookies in one paw and wrapping his other around Canidae’s shoulders, leading her back toward the kitchen.
“It’ll loosen you up. Don’t you know anything about the holidays? About Christmas? Of course not; every year you fight me tooth and nail over a tree in this dreary apartment and I’ve yet to convince you.”
Canidae was between embarrassed and indignant as Lucius sat her down on a stool at the kitchen bar. He placed the plate on the counter and nudged a mug of warm eggnog toward her. She could smell the nutmeg drifting off the surface of the stuff. She made a face.
“What is it about this that you like so much, Lucius? And keep your voice down, I just got that dear little deer to fall asleep. She’s as darling as any wolf cub.”
Lucius snorted in displeasure and knocked back a few gulps of rich nog.
“Everything. And I’d hardly say that; wolves are evolved to be uncommonly cute from infancy to, ah, adulthood.” He averted his eyes from her face just as Canidae looked up from her mug. “And you know me, my mother was so very enthusiastic about the holidays; she all but forced me to howl carols door to door with her and her knitting circle.”
“And your father?”
“He dressed as Santa to surprise me more than once as a cub, I do remember that plainly. And he could certainly clean a plate of cookies.”
“Like father, like son, eh, Lucius?”
“And like daughter, you strong-willed girl you.”
Canidae bowed her head. “Ugh, don’t say such awful things.”
“Alright, alright my dear. No need to be obstinate. It’s Christmas time! A wonderful time for indulgent folk like us to swap stories and stuff ourselves with expensive dinners and all manner of annual goodies.”
“Is your brain in your head or in your stomach, Lucius?”
“Sometimes I wonder that myself.”
Canidae fidgeted, brushing her hair back with a restrained sigh. She raised the eggnog to her lips, but the smell forced her to resist taking a sip.
“The difference is clear, Lucius. Your family loved you. What little family I had simply did not care for me. I was a secret, an anathema.”
Lucius tutted and shook his head. He took another swig of alcoholic nog before responding.
“Oh, no anything but. Your father just had an… interesting way of displaying his affections.”
Canidae rested her elbows on the bar and averted her eyes. What could he know of her father? They merely worked together. She saw the man all hours of the day, falling down drunk, barking obscenities at her and worse. How could a father addicted to work and to alcohol ever have shown her anything resembling a normal childhood, let alone a normal Christmas?
“Come on now. Why don’t I call a brother and get you set up with a tree in here? You’ve got the weekend to yourself, I hope. Just me, and you…"
Lucius drew closer and closer to Canidae, meeting her eyes and raising his eyebrows.
"We could trim the tree.”
“Trim?”
“Decorate it with a plethora of twinkling baubles! I could have someone fetch a box or two. Oh, and one mustn’t forget the lights!”
Canidae could see her old friend getting excited, and it would break her heart to put a damper on his mood. He was better company when he wasn’t sulking, and here he was, rocking on his heels like a pup.
“So be it. We’ll do as you suggest. Now… Do you know anything about fawns?”
Lucius paused with the mug of nog at his lips and opened one eye. “Other than their disproportionate enrollment in top primary schools versus wolf cubs? No.”
Canidae rolled her eyes. What did she expect? He had been spouting vehemence like that for years. Couldn’t he see this was a harmless little fawn, as much a victim on the street as any predator? Then again, if she argued that, he’d go on about how easy it is for prey to be adopted. Sometimes she felt as if she couldn’t win with Lucius – and he was the most tolerable member of the Order.
The Sacred Order of the Bared Fang. The coterie of wolves governing heritage and heirship, power and privilege among blooded lupines. And as she thought of her distaste for how they had insinuated themselves into her life with meetings and dating arrangements, Lucius was pacing on the other side of the room calling a brother of rank to come and deliver a tree to her apartment. Who would it be? Packsley? Fangden?
“James Lupinter, you old so and so!” Lucius’ booming laughter caused Canidae’s ears to stand on end, and she worriedly tip-toed over to the little doe in the chair by the fire to make sure she hadn’t been startled awake.
Canidae’s paws carried her across the room with a dainty sort of forcefulness – she wanted to show Lucius she meant business, but she didn’t want to wake the fawn herself.
“Lucius!” She hissed, just as he hung up the phone.
Lucius turned his head with a look of earnest innocence and a confused yelp.
“If I have to tell you one more time to keep it down I’ll… I’ll… No drinks at The Brass Hinge for a week! I’ll just do more paperwork instead of coming to see you.”
Lucius’ ears fell and he stared at her dolefully.
“I mean it.”
The old wolf stuffed his paws into his pockets and turned away, grumbling something that sounded like “yes Aurie.” He stumbled over to the couch with his eggnog and flopped down indolently. As he sipped the steaming mug, his eyes peeking over the rim, he would occasionally flick his glance over to the fireplace and the fawn who snoozed near it.
“You don’t suppose you’ll be keeping her?”
The words struck Canidae like she had walked into a door.
“Keep her? It didn’t cross my mind. The police are looking for her parents as we speak.”
“On Christmas Eve?”
Canidae hesitated. “Is it? Already? Leave it to you to obsess over dates and all that.”
“Aurie, most mammals know when it is, whether or not they celebrate it. Didn’t you wonder why you had the day off?”
“I thought Swinton had pulled some strings to get me out of her sight.”
Lucius snorted with a curt chuckle. “Well now I wouldn’t put that past her. But no, tomorrow is Christmas, and you’re getting a gift from me this year if from no one else.”
Canidae picked up the mug Lucius had left for her and grabbed another pretty, decorated cookie, then headed to sit next to him. She found herself leaning against him on the couch as if he was a pillow himself.
“I do appreciate that, Lucius. You keep my head on straight sometimes…” She paused, then took a bite. Once she swallowed, she asked, “Do… Do you think she’ll be alright? The fawn? What if they can’t find her parents?”
“Alright? My dear, ungulates are one of the most common prey in Zootopia. If anything, she’ll have a loving family within a week of being up for adoption. Prey all coddle each other so much, after all. Not like us wolves, having to live paw to mouth.”
“Lucius, my father had millions.” Canidae replied flatly.
“Ah… Yes, well, you’re a special case. Although now that I think about it, all the other Orders members are quite well to do…”
“It’s almost as if you’re blind to some things, hm, Lucius?” Canidae hid her smug expression with a drink of that hot eggnog. It tasted foreign, but not altogether unpleasant. At least he had remembered not to spike hers.
Lucius responded between laughter, “Not everything. Not yet. Speaking of which, you’re wearing your intentions like a necklace. I can see how you look at that fawn, Aurie. You want to take care of her, don’t you?”
“I want to take care of every citizen…”
Lucius didn't miss his opportunity to scoff. “Save the speeches for the next election. Go on.”
“And… Maybe part of me wants to be the mother I never had.”
Just like that, it came out. She had felt it the moment she picked up that defenseless little creature, lying there in the cold. The way it warmed against her body, the way it whined and depended on her. It was an astonishing feeling she wasn’t quite sure she had ever felt before. Her focus had always been on career, and while she did know successful mammals with children, she…
She had other issues preventing her easily having children, or even a relationship.
Lucius had put his arm around her. To her surprise, she was resting her head on his shoulder as she let her thoughts and emotions come to the forefront.
“It’s alright, Aurie. You’re a very sensitive woman, despite the fronts you put on for the voters. Strong but kind. You know I’ll always be a-“
A knock on the door had Canidae up on her feet before Lucius could finish talking. She set down her mug and half-eaten cookie and made her way to the door.
“Make way!” Came a familiar voice. A fir tree was pointed at her like the barrel of a gun.
Canidae stepped aside as Lupinter came barging in with the tree, six feet tall and reeking of pine scent. James wasn’t quite as portly as Lucius, rather he had the build of a wolf who went to the gym. He was a few years younger as well, with beige fur.
“Where do ya want it, miss?” He grunted, looking around for an empty spot.
“O-oh, anywhere,” Canidae stammered, “How about here?” She gestured to an empty bit of space between two arm chairs and breathed an audible sigh of relief when her suggestion was followed.
Lucius had gotten up, and after he helped Lupinter get the tree standing upright he clapped him on the back.
“Always a man I can count on, Jim! Let’s share cigars next week, my treat.”
“Sounds good. I got some boxes of lights and ornaments right outside. And-”
“Thanks, Jim! Come on now, come on, let’s get everything inside and on the tree.”
As the wolves got to work, James nodded his head to Canidae, smirking. "Happy to see you doing well, miss, despite what the papers are saying."
Canidae suddenly felt a mix of shame and fear at the thought of this Order brother seeing the fawn in her house. What if he saw her? The rumors would be vicious. They’d all think she went mad and adopted prey, or had a relationship with a deer who had a child. She’d be kicked out of the Order if enough of those old know-nothings knew anything about the little fawn.
Cautious to a fault, Canidae scooped up the child while the two older men were making crude, holiday-themed jokes in between piling lights onto the tree. She made her way down the hall past a few framed originals to her bedroom, where she knew they weren’t likely to follow. In the darkness, she placed the fawn on the bed and lay next to her.
“I’m sorry about all the noise.” Canidae whispered, as if the fawn could understand her. She lifted her head up from the bed when she noticed a tight pressure around her index finger.
The baby had grabbed it on reflex. Canidae bit her lip, smiling and struggling not to verbalize her adoration.
“Now now… You mustn’t get attached to me. You’re going to be a Christmas present for your parents. Once we find them… Your mother must be worried sick. When you grow up, you’ll get to tell everyone that you spent some time in Aurelia Canidae’s apartment.”
Canidae sighed.
“If my name means anything by then.”
What will she be doing when this fawn is all grown up? Would she be mayor, and the child an ambitious assistant? Or would she be here, drinking with Lucius and his friends, still chained to that vile organization? She turned it over and over in her head, feeling helpless, angry.
A soft rap on the door came ten minutes later, and Canidae moved to it with the fawn bundled in her arms.
“Lucius?”
“The tree’s done, Aurie.”
“Is he gone?”
“Jim? Why, yes.”
Canidae pulled open the door and gently pushed the fawn into Lucius’ arms as she moved past him.
“Now let’s see what you two have done to my living ro-”
It was beautiful.
A stark cone of glittering starlights and glistening bells and balls. Lucius had turned the room lights down, and the multicolored beauty of the tree bounced off the walls and ceiling. All across the tree were ornaments of countless shapes and sizes. Each must have had their own special meaning, or they were simply chosen for their appearance. Canidae, amused, likened them to city council members.
Lucius saw the look in her eye. "Not bad for a first time... isn't it? Now do you see what I've been getting at?"
"Yes..." Canidae stared at the tree, at the care with which each light and ornament was hung. Did Lucius purposefully create that pattern with the lights? That colored clustering of ornaments?
Lucius followed Canidae out of the hall with the fawn in his arms, and when Canidae looked over her shoulder, she saw him twirling his finger slowly around her nose, causing her to giggle and squirm.
“Can’t we feed her a cookie?” Lucius asked, moving over toward the kitchen. Canidae followed him.
“No solid food. She can have formula, that’s all.”
“Then… Can I feed her?”
Now the illustrious Lucius Howlgrave wanted to bottle feed a baby deer? Canidae was beside herself. Nevertheless, she scooped up the empty bottle and set to making another batch of formula. As she worked, she found the extra wine glass Lucius had poured for her and emptied it into the sink unceremoniously. The last thing either of them needed was wine, or, in Lucius’ case, more wine.
“Now then, a few guidelines: if you squeeze the bottle, do so very gently. Let her suck. Don’t jostle or move the bottle; you want to keep it level. Don’t pull it away until she’s done, and don’t hold it there if she turns her head.”
Lucius had picked a chair to sit on across the kitchen bar from Canidae. She passed him the bottle and watched him closely as he brought it to the baby's lips.
“When did you become such an expert? Are you ready to step out of office and become a mother?” Lucius smirked playfully as the fawn reached for the bottle with her snout.
Visibly rattled, Canidae replied, “Any fool can use their phone to look up proper bottle feeding procedures. If anything, it’s a testament to my adaptability.” She found nothing but uncomfortable silence as she finished talking, so she blithely added, “Besides. Common sense is all one needs to take care of such a sweet little doe.”
The feeding had ended, and Lucius first handed the half-full bottle back to Canidae, then the fawn herself.
“Well…” Lucius began with a grunting sigh as he stood up from the seat and placed his paws on his back, arching and stretching it. “It’s getting late. Why don’t you take her to bed and I’ll tidy up around the kitchen?”
“You don’t intend on sleeping over, do you?” Canidae was gently bouncing the fawn in her arms.
“Come now, your spare bedrooms are more comfortable than my car! I’m tired, Aurie, and halfway pickled, if I do say so myself.” Lucius elbowed Canidae suggestively.
“Fine. Just keep the racket down. You know, I think I’ll curl up on the couch, keep the fireplace on. Turn off all the lights when you’re finished – alright? Except for that tree. Keep that on. I want to see this Christmas magic you’ve been hammering into my head all these years.”
Lucius was already working on cleaning up, starting by emptying the plate of cookies one by one into his craw.
“Of course. Good night, you two.”
First, Canidae placed the fawn on the couch, then went to her bedroom to change. When she came out wearing her Gazelle-decorated pajamas in carnation pink, Lucius couldn’t help but cackle. Canidae offered little more than an annoyed glance before she curled up on the couch with the fawn in her arms. An expensive, textured blanket heavily covered them while the warmth of the apartment’s heating and fireplace kept them cozy. It was odd at first, sleeping with another mammal, a fawn. It reminded her of when she slept with the stuffed animals hidden away in her closet, none of which she would admit to even owning. The fawn was soft and small and her breathing relaxed the stressed politician holding her.
It was half past three in the morning, Christmas Day, when Canidae blearily woke to a rustling and the sight of movement in the sparkling light projected by the tree’s myriad sources. She opened her eyes and felt around with her paws to check on the fawn, who was breathing normally. She groggily scanned the room and could see a figure next to the tree.
“Lu-“
He turned, his red clothes a dark maroon in the shadowy apartment. The white trim was obvious. The pudgy frame of a man she knew very well was hidden entirely by some sort of Christmas getup, and Canidae did all she could to keep from groaning.
There, under the tree, two presents had been placed, and without a word and little more than a hearty chuckle, the figure waved at Canidae.
Canidae blinked to clear her vision and noticed movement below her. The fawn had somehow managed to poke her head out from within the blanket. She was smiling, and her large blue eyes sparkled in the dark with reflections from the tree’s lighting.
“Ho-ho-ho,” The figure grunted, ears twitching beneath an oversized red cap. “Back to bed you two, I’ve got a lot of work to do.” His tone was cheerful, but not too loud.
Canidae huffed, pulling the blanket over her head anew and struggling to go back to bed. It wasn’t difficult – she had barely been half awake for the event, and for the rest of the early morning she was sure she had dreamed it.
That was, until she awoke.
The fawn was nestled in the crook of her arm, silently sucking her thumb and slumbering. Around the room, everything looked as it had the previous night, save for the two presents beneath the tree. Each glistened with shimmering wrapping paper and elegant ribbons. Cat King Cheetah was singing Christmas tunes on the stereo system connected to the television.
Canidae remained on the couch for some time, loathe to remove the blanket from her body. She kept telling herself five more minutes in her head. Fifteen minutes later, she knew she couldn’t use the same excuse again. Slowly, she raised her torso up and removed the blanket, gently waking the fawn and carrying her over to the tree. The clock on the wall read nine.
“Look at this, here. Someone’s gone and left us some gifts. You don’t suppose it was Santa Claws, do you?” Canidae’s voice was an awed murmur. She reached down and pulled up the tags from the presents while the fawn rested on the floor. “One for me and… One for you. It says right here: ‘Little Fawn,’ how sweet.”
Carefully, Canidae pulled at the ribbons until they popped off the first gift, then she unwrapped it.
“Baby Beau Boutique? Oh! It’s a little onesie.” She held it up and tore off the tags. “Just the right size for you.” It sported pink and white horizontal stripes, and Horns Incoming was emblazoned on the front. She slipped the fawn into the outfit – a perfect fit - and held her in her arms. “Beautiful, just perfect! You’re even cozier now, I’d wager, aren’t you?” The fawn squirmed in response, all smiles.
Canidae placed the fawn on the floor next to her, one paw on her belly. The second, smaller present was left, and Canidae opened it with a bit more excitement. When did Lucius have time to buy these? As she pulled the golden ribbon from the box, the lid popped off.
“How do you like it?”
Lucius was leaning against the kitchen bar, silently sipping what had to be coffee – the aroma suddenly became apparent. Even his mug couldn’t hide the enormous grin on his face.
Sitting there, swathed in bubble wrap, sat a limited release Gazelle Christmas ornament. The elegant, willowy figure of Gazelle wore a shimmering green dress and wielded a microphone in one hoof.
“Th-this is… I…”
“You missed the release last month – you had to work late on the budget proposal for that works project. I was there, and I bought one. For you.”
The first tentative tears crept into the corners of Canidae’s eyes. She lifted the ornament from its packaging as if handling a piece of delicate snow that might crumble in her paws at any moment. How better to celebrate the gift than to put it on display? As she rose to her feet, she searched for the ideal spot amidst the green needles.
“Right there looks lovely.” Lucius stated proudly, sauntering over to admire the fruits of his efforts. “You always did have a soft spot for prey, didn’t you?”
Canidae felt her ears blushing, and to hide it she bent down to pick up the fawn. She lifted her up to see the Gazelle ornament.
“See? This is Gazelle. She’s beautiful. She’s my favorite.”
“Maybe she’ll be her favorite too, eh, Aurie?”
“One can hope…”
Canidae slowly turned her gaze from the ornament to the green in Lucius’ eyes.
“Lucius, I’ve-“
The chorus from Gazelle’s She Wolf interrupted her. It was coming from her phone as it danced the dance of vibration across the coffee table. Without a moment of hesitation, Canidae pressed the fawn into Lucius’ arms and made for her phone.
“Canidae speaking.”
“Miss Canidae – good morning. Uh, about the fawn you showed up with last night?”
“Ruminski? Yes?” As Canidae spoke she paced the room, apprehension growing inside her. Lucius distracted the fawn by sticking out his tongue and shutting his eyes.
“She’s got parents. Apparently, someone picked her up at a park, then tried to ransom her to her parents. When they discovered they weren’t rich enough to pay anything they must have left her in the alleyway.”
“How terrible! So… They want her back?”
“Of course they do, miss. They’re here now! They’re absolutely beside themselves. If you hadn’t found her…”
“I’ll be right over. Quite a long shift you’re working, Ruminski.”
“Christmas, miss.”
“Right.”
When she hung up, Lucius and the fawn were staring at her expectantly.
Canidae’s emotions swirled. She had learned so much about herself – that she could be nurturing, even motherly. That she could care so much about someone and still be able to return them to their rightful place. She knew it wouldn’t be fitting to arrive at the precinct crying. She had to be strong for the fawn and for herself. She took a look at the baby; at Lucius; at the tree. Here in this room felt like all she had in the world. If she walked out that door, the magic of her first true Christmas morning would end.
Yet, there was so much more to consider than herself.
“Come on Lucius, grab your coat – we’re going to give this beautiful little girl back to her parents.”
“Thank goodness. You’re too young to be a mother.” Lucius offered a painfully deliberate wink.
“Please. Hurry up! Every minute she’s here, she’s missing this special day with her parents!”
“Alright, alright. Coming.”
“Oh, and Lucius?”
“…Yes?”
“Merry Christmas."
