Part 1: Mac’s Perspective

     Grass and tough gravel crunched underneath Mac’s feet as he half-ran, half-stumbled down the side of the road, slowly becoming concealed under the darkness of night like a thick veil. Out of breath, he glanced behind him, his ears pricked as he heard the sirens slowly approaching closer towards the vehicle he left behind.

     I can’t believe I’m doing this! Running from the police! He thought all the while, struggling to process everything that was going on. He still didn’t know where Dendley went, and he could only pray that his longtime friend was safe, too. There was no time to turn back, however, as he forced himself to continue on, guitar on back, weaving through a thin grove of trees until the road was no more than a small line on the horizon. 

     Soon enough, a group of blinking bright lights would slow down onto it, and then another, each coming to a stop next to the small dot of a car. They were looking for him, Mac knew. Thinking back, he thought even then that robbing the Main Street Bank was a dumb idea, and yet he trusted Dendley enough at the time to go along with his plan. Now he couldn’t help but feel partially responsible for getting them both into this mess by not speaking up about it. At the same time, though, Dendley was stubborn and never the type to change his mind about something. He thought the robbery would be for the greater good for the both of them, and it’d be hard to make him think otherwise. 

     Thinking about it only made Mac feel more regretful that he wasn’t here right now, and he quickly shook himself from his thoughts, starting to run again. It wouldn’t be long before the police realized the car was empty and started searching for him. All in all, he clearly couldn’t stay here for long. 

     Suddenly, though, he heard a familiar roaring up ahead, and far off in the distance, he made out a railroad track built onto a slope. Thinking quickly, he picked up his pace, and halfway he began to see a large, old-looking train start to speed down the rails from his left side. His lungs screamed for him to stop, but he pushed on, not knowing any other way. After what felt like an eternity he was finally making it up the slope, but already the end of the train was catching up and soon it’d be gone. Heaving himself up the top and almost slipping, he finally managed to jump for the end of the final cart, and his claws gripped tightly onto the corner pole. Wind roared in his ears and pushed down his fur and feathers, but he managed to stay on. Soon the last of the city moved past him, making way for smaller markets and collections of neighborhoods surrounded by an increasing number of trees. Finally managing to catch his breath, Mac crouched to his knees, still gripping the pole, as he glanced back towards the shrinking skyline. 

     Somewhere back there was Dendley, all alone. The worst thing that could’ve possibly happened had happened, and now Mac could only wonder where his friend was now. If he were any stronger and not also on the run, then he’d do anything to go back for him, but right now there was nothing he could do to help. 

     I’ll come back for you, Dendley. I promise.

     He didn’t know how long it’d been since he’d gotten on the train. Despite the wind, he’d managed to doze off, squeezed between the pole and cart so he wouldn’t slip away. Still, though, as he eventually woke up to the sound of the train stopping, he felt groggy from the lack of sleep from the night before. 

     Wait… the train stopped?

     Mac forced his eyes open and he looked around, realizing where he was. Rather than the bustling city with its tall, grey buildings and big roads, he was instead in a small country-looking village. A few beaten trucks tugged along a dirt road nearby, and near the rails were a couple of wooden buildings while a field of wheat stretched off in the distance. The sky was bright with the morning sun, but dark clouds were visible overhead.

     Hey, wait- I know this place… I’m in the heart of the country! There was no way the police would get him here. He could live a safe, peaceful life until he got Dendley back again.

     Thinking quickly, he squeezed himself out from against the railing, struggling a little but managing to get off in time with his guitar before the train started moving again. Getting up and dusting himself off, he soon saw a small line of people in front of a two-story building with several windows a little ways away. It looked like one of the newest buildings here, but that wasn’t saying much. As he slowly walked closer, he managed to catch a conversation between a small hedgehog at the front and an armadillo behind a stand constructed into the front of the building.

     “What will it be, ma’am?” The armadillo asked.

     “I’d like a small room, just big enough for one person.”

     “Alright.” He reached down behind the stand, lifting up a key. “We got one available. That’ll be twenty now and thirty next week.”

     As the hedgehog reached into a purse, Mac was so perplexed by their strange accents that he was distracted for a moment from quickly guessing what this place was. It had to be a hotel, although it was definitely far smaller than any one he’d ever seen. Either way, where there was one, there was also shelter. 

     Fixing his hair as much as he could with just his hands, he walked towards the line, slowly shifting his way to the front. He remembered what Dendley taught him about needing more than the fortunate folk, and even though some of the animals shot him glares, he ignored them. By the time the hedgehog was walking through the door into the building, he was already at the front, and the armadillo’s eyes widened when he saw him. At first, Mac thought it was because he’d noticed him cutting through, but he cleared his throat. 

     “Um, hello? I’d like a room, please. One person.” 

     For a moment the armadillo said nothing, just staring at him even harder after he spoke. 

     “...Okay. You got any money?”

     That was different from what he said to the hedgehog; this time he didn’t even look to see if he had a room available. Looking down and shifting around in his pockets, Mac would realize with a start that he was empty-handed. He was in such a hurry to escape the authorities that he didn’t even think to bring any money before he left. Reluctantly, he started to reply.

     “Well, no, not at this moment. But,” He looked back up, “I can pay you later.”

     The armadillo grunted, “Nice try, but we don’t pay later ‘ere. I know what you’re tryin’ to do.” 

     “What?”

     “Y’know what, boy. I can tell by your accent you’re not from here, and you’re a hybrid.”

     At this point, Mac could feel his neck feathers starting to bristle. Maybe he really didn’t plan on paying the fee, maybe he did, but either way, he found himself getting defensive from the way he was getting talked down to.

     “Just because I came a little way to get here doesn’t mean I don’t plan on paying back. And what’s this whole hybrid thing about?”

     Suddenly he heard someone clear their throat behind him and he turned. The people he’d cut earlier were standing there impatiently, a large bobcat with a bandana on his neck and scar under his eye giving him an intimidating glare.

     “You’re holdin’ up the line, busker.”

     Slowly Mac turned back towards the armadillo at the stand, leaning in close as he spoke in a quieter tone.

     “Listen, I have to help someone. I won’t even need to stay in that long. So come on, please?”

     To his dismay, the armadillo’s expression didn’t change, and he snorted, shaking his head.

     “Well, you’ll have to find somewhere else to stay tonight. I got customers waitin’, now git.” 

     With that, he waved his hand, and the bobcat behind Mac pushed forward, almost knocking him to the ground. Stepping from the line, he bit back a curse and eventually started walking off. Whatever, he could just find another place like the armadillo said, right?

     Right?

     Head half-down as he continued down the dirt road, exhausted and disheartened, he passed a few other increasingly spotty buildings, people outside and on the porches giving him weird looks. Have they really never seen a hybrid before? He wondered, thinking back to what the armadillo told him. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen any hybrids at all since he got here. 

     Over time the sky started to grow dark, and Mac looked up to notice dark clouds forming even more above the town. Before long, rain started to sprinkle down, and he probably wasn’t going to have much time before it started to pour down. He quickly picked up his speed, seeing a dark wooden barn nearby, its door yawned open. Seeing no other options, he left the dirt path behind and dashed inside. As he was finally safe from the downpour, he stopped to catch his breath, watching the rainfall as he slowly took a seat on the wooden floor. 

     This place wasn’t nearly as nice and peaceful as he would’ve hoped. It’d probably be weeks before he’d have enough to get back to Dendley. Eventually, Mac would get back to his feet, stumbling to the opposite end of the dark barn. At the end was some sort of curtain, and he grabbed one end, slowly pulling it open. Behind the curtain was a battered old couch with a thick blanket and a messy bedside table next to it. A few rufous-colored hens sitting on top clucked in alarm and jumped off, flapping their small wings. It had to be for the birds only, but he knew what it was like being homeless already. This would just have to do for now.

     And so, pulling the curtain shut again before lying down and pulling the blanket over himself, exhaustion soon took over and the world went to black.

     Part 2: Delilah’s Perspective

     It was another usual morning at Delilah’s job, and she carefully stacked the last of the clean plates and pans to prepare for today. She already had just about every recipe memorized from potato and broccoli soup to the stuffed brussel sprout recipe she’d made herself. So far, it was the longest job she had kept, and yet she’d only had it for three months at this point. Sure said a lot about how every other job she picked up around town went. Meanwhile, Ms. Madra didn’t really have many options, but considering her nature that was the only thing Delilah could count on right now.

     As if the thought summoned her, the large pampas cat would enter the kitchen, wearing an off-white work uniform. She looked over Delilah’s work with that serious look she always had, and Delilah turned around and smiled.

     “Good morning.” She said in a cheerful tone, making sure she always kept the attitude at work in hopes of appealing to her boss, “We’re going to get a lot of customers I bet, they’ve been going up recently. I got myself all prepared for-”

     “You’re not working today.” Ms. Madra interrupted. Delilah blinked, taken aback. 

     “What?”

     Ms. Madra pulled a folder out from a drawer on the island, taking some of their recipes out from it and walking towards the cabinets to stick them up.

     “Thomas is cooking today.” She told Delilah as she did so, “He needs the experience.”

     This wasn’t the first time Ms. Madra had said that. Thomas was her son, a little younger than Delilah, but far less of a cook. Last time she at least let Delilah shadow him while he worked, and he’d nearly burned down the whole kitchen. She thought that’d be the last time, at least in a while, that Ms. Madra insisted on having him be the cook again, but that was only a week and a half ago. She doubted he learned much in that timeframe.

     “But Ms. Madra, you can’t be serious.” Delilah protested, indignance spilling the words out of her, “You’ve seen the customers, they love my cooking! And Thomas- he can barely cook even with someone looking over him.”

     Ms. Madra gave her a hard glare, the words coming out in a growl as she grew defensive, as she always did, whenever they had conversations about this. 

     “Are you insulting my son?”

     “No,” Delilah paused, suddenly starting to regret what she’d said, but still, she decided to stand her ground, “I think he needs experience, too, but not here, especially when our sales are only just getting up.”

     There was a long silence between them, and for a moment Delilah worried if she’d pushed it too far this time. Usually, she tried not to talk back to her boss, but something almost came over her and she couldn’t help herself. Eventually, though, Ms. Madra would sigh, turning away. 

     “Well, alright.” She spoke, going back to putting the recipes up, “I’m at least a little more glad I planned on telling you.”

     Delilah frowned, “Telling me what?”

     Ms. Madra turned towards her once more, “I’m dropping you from the restaurant.”

     Hearing that, Delilah’s eyes widened in shock. “You mean you’re… firing me? For saying your son’s not a great cook?”

     “No. There are many reasons. Let’s see… You talk back too much, you won’t even give Thomas a single chance at this place, all your recipes are far too expensive with ingredients,”

     “I’m just trying to make this place seem a little less cheap…” Delilah muttered.

     “And you’re a mix-matched hybrid.”

     This wasn’t the first time Ms. Madra mentioned her hybridness, Delilah knew from experience living here that many older folks didn’t approve of hybrids simply existing, and probably due to that, there weren’t many hybrids, to begin with. It always frustrated her that the stubborn cat somehow thought that looking a little like a squirrel and looking a little like a hen would somehow affect her work performance, but at this point, her anger from before had quickly melted down and was instead replaced with fear at the prospect of losing her job. 

     “Please don’t do this, Ms. Madra. You know I need this job. My dad already plans on moving from here, and if I don’t get enough money soon I’ll have nowhere to stay.”

     “Well, I’m sorry.” Ms. Madra replied, albeit with not a hint of compassion in her voice, “I decide who works here by how good their performance and obedience is, not by how much they need the money.” 

     Suddenly she picked up Delilah’s hand, opening it up and putting a few of the recipes inside. She could see before her boss even spoke that they were the ones she made, even the stuffed brussel sprout that many people who came to the restaurant lately got. 

     “These are yours. Go ahead and use them at your next job.”

     Although Ms. Madra seemed to have meant it in a nice way, the fact she was going to stop using all those recipes just like that made Delilah angry all over again and as she clenched her claws into fists the recipes crumbled in her hand. 

     “Fine, then. Good luck finding someone even as good as Thomas, because you’ll regret this.”

     And with that, she stomped off towards the exit, grabbing the door handle.

     “The apron is mine, though.” Ms. Madra spoke from across the room. Out of frustration, she tried to thrash it off, failed, and grumbled to herself as she had to pull off the pin before tossing it across the room. Whatever, she didn’t need that stupid job. She shut the door behind her and walked down the steps behind the building, walking off without looking back. Outside it was already starting to rain, and by the time the restaurant was long gone behind her, she was already getting drenched.

     Just my luck… She thought miserably, looking around for a spot to take shelter. A little way off was a large dark shape, and knowing the route she could pretty easily guess it was farmer Jeb’s barn. He liked to make himself known through rumors around the town, and she knew as well as anyone that the old bulldog didn’t like folks going onto his property. But at the same time, her home was a long way from here, and the rain surely couldn’t last that long. 

     Making up her mind, she picked up speed as she ran for the open barn, stepping off the road and down on soaked grass that squelched beneath her feet. It wasn’t long before she made it under the shelter of the barn’s awning, and making sure there weren’t any noises inside to suggest Jeb was there, she headed in. 

     Inside, the barn was ominously dark and dusty, but she was glad to finally catch her breath, crouching down neat to the entrance. She thought she heard the rain starting to slow down, but she couldn’t be sure, and it was clear she was probably going to have to stay here for a while.

     As she was starting to rub off her hair a little and shaking out her tail, just trying to get as dry as she could get right now, she suddenly heard a cluck from in the barn and turned. In the corner were a few hens, some rufous-colored and others slate grey. These must be farmer Jeb’s… She thought. Knowing that she felt a little hesitant to mess with them, but she couldn’t help but notice how scared they looked all squeezed up in the corner. 

     After a moment she’d reach in her pocket, pulling out a small bag of sunflower seeds she had. As she laid a few of them out in front of her, the chickens would slowly approach, cautious at first but, upon deciding Delilah wasn’t a threat, they were all out pecking the sunflower seeds before long. Although she smiled at first while watching them, thinking back to the events of earlier that morning, her smile fell and she sighed to herself. She tried her best to keep that job, she really did, but it seemed like even when she gave it her all, few restaurants wanted to have a hybrid working for them. 

     Reaching into her other pocket, she pulled out her recipes, crumbled slightly from when she clenched them. Go ahead and use them at your next job. Ms. Madra’s words echoed in her mind, and with a huff, she tore them apart between her hands, reaching her hand out the barn door and letting the wind carry them away. If no restaurant wanted her cooking for them then fine, she’d just give up. 

     Quickly, though, she started to regret what she had just done, but it was hopeless trying to get those bits of paper back now. Sitting down on the wooden floor, she pulled her legs close to her and started to blink back tears. 

     She wished she wasn’t born a hybrid. It felt like no matter where she went, she couldn’t escape the fact she was different.

     Delilah sat there for a few more moments, but while she did so she started to imagine the sound of snoring. Wait… why snoring? It took her a minute to realize, but she wasn’t actually imagining it. There was someone else in the barn.

     Suddenly forgetting her strife from earlier, she quickly got up, worriedly fiddling her hands. There was someone else in the barn and she didn’t even notice until now? At first, she felt like leaving out of fear it could be Jeb, but unless he really wanted to get out of the rain he wouldn’t have much reason to sleep outside his home.

     Treading quietly past the chickens, she followed the source of the sound, discovering a curtain in the darkness at the other end of the barn. The snoring was louder there, and it was clear whoever it was had to be on the other side.

      Hesitantly she approached until she was close enough to grab one end, before starting to pull the curtain back, slowly at first but beginning to speed up. At any moment she expected to see a short, wrinkly bulldog snout, or an earful if she was unlucky. Instead, though, sticking outside a thick wooly blanket, was a long, orange snout, big eyes, and brown hair. It wasn’t a bulldog, but a fox, and judging by how young his face looked she could pretty safely assume she got Jeb’s species right. No, this fox must’ve come in from the rain like her, too. Thinking for a moment, she decided to try and get his attention.

     “Um, hello?” Slowly she reached out a claw and tapped his face, “Sir?”

     As she did that, he started to stir, grumbling, “Hhgh… What…”

      He yawned and eventually opened his bright red eyes, but when he did so, he quickly let out a small shriek and backed up against the wall, still holding the blanket up to his chin.

     “Woah-oh-oh, hey-” He smiled nervously, “... Is this your barn?”

     Delilah was a little surprised hearing him speak; his accent was very different from anyone she’d heard here before, or at all, really. He must’ve come a long way. 

     In any case, though, she decided not to mention it as she replied slowly.

     “Um, no…” 

     “Oh,” Although he seemed relieved, his smile faded as he laid back down, “Goodbye, then.”

     Despite herself, Delilah was a little amused and huffed. “Well, I assume it’s not your barn either, is it?”

     “No, but what’s that got to do with you?” He shot her a look.

     At this point, she started to get a little annoyed and crossed her arms. Quite the smart aleck, wasn’t he? “Guess you don’t know who owns this place, then. Farmer Jeb doesn’t fancy people going into his stuff, and especially not sleeping in it… unless you mind a broom to the head, or worse.”

     For a moment the fox went quiet, and she thought at first that she’d managed to finally reach him. “Well… you’re here, too.” He then point out, however, a smirk starting to rise on his face.

     Finally, reaching her limit, Delilah let out a huff. “Suit yourself, then.” She told him before reaching for the curtain and swiftly tugging it back in its place. If he wasn’t going to listen to her advice, then he probably deserved whatever was coming when Jeb got back here. Just as she was walking away, however, the fox suddenly called back.

     “Wait! Wait! You’re a hybrid, too?”

     Quickly, Delilah turned around, the word hybrid causing her to boil over before she even released what he said.

     “Yes, I get it- I’m a hybrid! My father was a squirrel, my mother was a hen, and my grandmother was a… wait, ‘too’?”

     As she was looking back, the fox’s face popped out from behind the curtain, and as he slowly stepped out with no blanket covering him this time, her eyes quickly widened as she realized this wasn’t a fox at all, or at least, not completely. His neck was lined with shiny red feathers, and instead of a white-tipped foxtail, long, dark blue feathers tapered down behind him. A fox-rooster… If she wasn’t a hybrid between the same kind of bird herself, she imagined she’d laugh at just how unnatural it was. Instead, there was something so familiar about finally seeing someone similar to herself, like meeting a long-lost twin.

     They both said nothing, and eventually, he reached out his grey paw- no, claw, out towards her. Slowly Delilah pulled out one hand as well and for a moment the two clawed hands touched, the two, different colors aside, a perfect match. It was as if the world magically paused for just a little while as they both lingered there for a while before finally, the fox-rooster pulled his hand away first. 

     Upon being pulled away from the trance, Delilah backed away a few steps, feeling oddly shocked. Judging by the other hybrid’s face, he seemed to feel the same way, and quickly he tried to awkwardly laugh it off.

     “Heh, that was… weird.”

     “Uh, yeah,” she agreed, deciding to laugh it off along with him as she moved a strand of hair from her face.

     As the two went quiet and awkwardly stared at each other for a few seconds, Delilah would look away and suddenly realized that the rain had stopped at this point. The fox-rooster spoke first.

     “I, uh, best be going now. Don’t want to run into Farmer Jeb, right?”

     As he started to walk towards the door, Delilah reached out, “Um… see you around?”

     Stepping onto the edge of the grass, he’d slowly look back, and soon, gave her a small smile. “Sure. Why not?”

     Afterward, he headed off into the field in the direction of the road. Delilah said nothing as she stared after him, slowly walking towards the barn’s doorway before coming to a stop. A surprisingly large part of her felt disappointed that their meeting had been so short; she wanted to know more about him. His life, his interests, where he came from… perhaps they could even be friends. At that moment, however, she only then realized she’d never gotten his name. The thought had completely slipped her mind.

     Upon discovering the fact, she considered chasing after him at first, but quickly she thought better of it and as she finally set out, she continued on her trip back home. Perhaps she really would see him around. It was a small town, so it couldn’t be that hard to spot one fox-rooster hybrid. Maybe word would even go around about the new citizen moving in from far off. 

     Whatever the case, she hoped it wouldn’t be long before the next time they see each other. Maybe they really could be friends, and then she wouldn’t be as different anymore. And at that moment, despite everything else that had happened, the future ahead seemed brighter than it usually did, and somehow she knew that small chance encounter was just the start of a very big change.