Although York could drive, he didn’t have a driver’s license.
So he took every precaution along the way, steering clear of patrol cars, keeping his speed steady, and praying nothing would go wrong.
But as luck would have it, the very thing he feared most came crashing down on him.
The light had just turned green and he was about to roll through the intersection when it happened.
A black sports car tore through the crossing like a bullet.
York slammed the brakes to avoid a collision.
From the back came a heavy thump, like something had been thrown hard against the compartment wall.
He ignored it, sticking his head out the window instead, and let loose a string of curses.
“Hey!
What the hell’s your problem?!
You in that much of a hurry to die?” The sports car was already gone, vanished into the distance.
York ducked back inside, fuming, and restarted the engine.
“Damn.
Could’ve been worse, I guess.
At least I didn’t hit anything.” He drove on, leaving the bustling heart of Zootopia behind.
The air outside grew noticeably cooler.
Whimper…
whimper…
At first, York thought he was imagining things.
But no, there was definitely something crying out from the back.
A knot tightened in his chest.
His job was simple: drive the truck to its destination and collect his pay.
That was it.
He wasn’t supposed to ask questions.
But if he didn’t know what was riding with him, he’d never shake the unease.
He pulled over to the shoulder, killed the engine, and stepped out into the cold.
The chill bit through his jacket, making him shiver as he walked around to the rear.
He swung the doors open and stepped inside, flipping open one of the pizza boxes stacked there.
Empty.
Just as he’d suspected.
The whimpering grew clearer now.
He wasn’t imagining it.
The sound was coming from beneath the pile of boxes.
He shoved them aside, and what lay underneath made his blood run cold.
His pupils contracted.
His breath caught in his throat.
That wasn’t “medical equipment.” That was a cage.
A big one.
And inside it were animals.
Rabbits.
Foxes.
Puppies.
Deer.
Most of them were sprawled across the cold metal floor, unconscious and filthy.
Only one, a young fox, barely more than a kit, was awake.
Her muzzle was taped shut.
The muffled whimpers York had heard were coming from her.
“Th-this is…
animal trafficking?!” His voice cracked.
His face went pale.
“Son of a bitch.
I’ve been set up.” He mentally cursed the client’s entire bloodline.
Getting caught running a trafficking ring wasn’t just a few months behind bars.
This was the kind of crime that got you life in prison.
The fox had stopped struggling the moment she saw him.
She just stared, her eyes burning with hatred sharp enough to cut.
‘What do I do?
Call the cops?’ The thought surfaced immediately, and just as quickly, he shot it down.
If he called the cops, he wouldn’t see a single coin of his payment.
Worse, he’d be dragging himself into the mess.
He wasn’t about to hand himself over.
‘Maybe I could just let them go here…
No.
I don’t have the key to the cage.’ He ran through every option, and each one circled back to the same dead end.
Thump…
thump…
The little fox started slamming her body against the cage bars.
When she had his attention, she jerked her head upward, letting out a series of urgent muffled sounds.
She was trying to tell him something.
York hesitated, then approached slowly.
He stopped just short of touching the bars.
“Listen,” he said, his voice low.
“I had no idea this truck was carrying animals.
If I’d known, I never would’ve taken this job.” The fox nodded.
Only then did he reach his hand through the bars.
With his sharp claws, he hooked the tape across her muzzle.
She lifted her head to help, and with a sharp rrrrip, it came away.
“Untie me,” she said, her voice young but eerily calm.
“I can pick the lock.” “You can pick locks?” York stared at her, skeptical.
She was about the size of Judy (Hopps), barely came up to his waist.
A fox that small was practically still a baby, the kind that should be playing, not cracking locks.
The little fox caught his hesitation.
Her eyes narrowed with impatience, and her tone sharpened.
“Stop wasting time.
Just untie me.” York gritted his teeth.
‘What the hell.
It’s not like I’ve got a better plan.’ He nodded, reached in, and worked the ropes loose.
The moment they fell away, the fox stretched her limbs, cracked her joints, and extended a single claw.
She slipped it into the keyhole.
Less than three seconds passed.
Click.
The lock sprang open.
York’s jaw dropped.
“Holy crap.
That was incredible.
How did you do that?” “Simple,” she said, tapping her nose with pride.
“You just have to find the right pin and turn.” York clapped his hands together in genuine admiration.
“Amazing.” But this wasn’t the time for applause.
Together, York and the fox worked quickly, freeing the other captives and shaking them awake.
All the while, York kept muttering under his breath, “I’m so screwed,” “what a mess,” “this job is gonna be the death of me.” Once he’d confirmed that every animal could stand and walk on their own, he let out a long breath.
“Alright, little ones,” he said, brushing the dust off his hands.
He pointed toward the road that led back to the city.
“This is as far as I can take you.
Follow this road straight ahead, and it’ll lead you right back to the heart of Zootopia.
You’ll be safe there.
Make sure to find a policeman and explain your situation.” A chorus of tearful, trembling voices answered him.
“Thank you, big brother!” “You’re so kind, big brother!” “One day, I’ll find a way to repay you, I promise!” York felt his chest tighten.
These little ones, with their soft voices and grateful eyes, melted something inside him.
‘Those bastards.
Traffickers who preyed on innocent little girls.
They deserved everything coming to them.’ “What about you?” the little fox asked, tilting her head.
“Me?” York shrugged like it was obvious.
“I’ve still got a delivery to make.” “You’re still going?” “Of course.
I don’t work for free.
If I don’t get paid, I’m out a whole lot of money.” “Then I’m coming with you.” “No.” He shut her down immediately.
“It’s too dangerous.” The fox scoffed, clenching her little fists.
“Danger?
Please.
I’ve been through worse.
I’m going to find the bastard who took me, and I’m going to kick his sorry tail so hard…” “That’s…
a pretty tame punishment, honestly.” York muttered the words under his breath, then shook his head firmly.
“Still no.” “Why?!” She looked genuinely baffled.
“Because you’re too young.” He softened his voice.
“A girl your age should be in school, not out looking for fights.” Her gaze dropped.
Her ears folded flat against her head, and she looked so small, so pitiful, that it nearly broke him.
“But I don’t have a home in Zootopia.” York went quiet.
No wonder she could pick locks at her age.
No wonder she had the cold, sharp composure of someone twice her years.
A wave of recognition washed over him, that hollow, familiar ache of being alone in a city that didn’t care.
His mind started painting pictures he didn’t want to see: a little fox, all alone, wandering the cold, indifferent streets of Zootopia.
Facing who-knows-what dangers.
With no one to look out for her.
His chest tightened.
Could he really just leave her to that?
No.
He couldn’t.
But what was he supposed to do?
He could barely take care of himself.
He was leaving Zootopia after this job, anyway, he had no plans to stay.
And yet, when he looked into those hopeful, desperate eyes, he found he couldn’t say no.
He ruffled his own head until it was a mess, let out a long, defeated sigh, and finally caved.
“Alright.
Fine.
If you’re not afraid of danger, you can stick with me for now.” ————•★•————★ Author Note: Thanks for reading!
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