The realization finally hit her thirty minutes later: Duke was unarmed.

Sure, he had his claws, but as he kneeled next to a blueberry bush she realized there wasn't a single conventional weapon anywhere on him - the raggedy clothes he wore didn't seem to conceal anything, besides a trowel and flask hanging loosely from his belt. Nick at least had a rifle, but this weasel was completely unprepared.

"And see, you sorta roll em' off," he explained, unaware of her sudden shock as he cleanly guided the fresh blueberries into a woven basket. "Not too hard. We ship these things off to the suburbs, cause they ain't enough to feed the bigger preds. You don't gotta worry about that part, though."

Judy nodded absentmindedly, mentally cataloguing his technique. She'd promised herself that she was done with servant work, but if this was what it took to keep going, she'd begrudgingly oblige.

Not that she'd do so happily. Her internal monologue was mostly a battle between her id screaming at her to stop and the rational parts insisting that this was worth it. Just a few weeks. Or months. Probably. Maybe more, if she was unlucky, and when had fortune ever failed her before?

"...and that's about it. When you fill up a basket, head back to that shed over there," Duke said cheerfully, pointing towards an oblong structure off to the side of the house. It seemed so small this far out. "Anything else, cottontail?"

Get her out of here. Don't let Nick bring another collar. Keep her hidden away until Ben is ready. Magically tell her where Dawn or Doug or any of the others have disappeared to, or bring them back if they were six feet under.

"Nope," she said evenly, not letting a single drop of turmoil leak out of her mask of calm. "I think I got it."

"You sure?" he asked plainly. "I know rabbits ain't much for physical... labor." She could see the bit-back comment bouncing around the inside of his mouth about the 'physical activities' a rabbit was expected to do, but thankfully he didn't say anything.

"I've got this," she spat, trying to ignore the prickling sensation grating across her fur like she'd bathed in expired milk. "Thank you."

Duke nodded, somehow completely oblivious to her sudden flare of anger. "Nice. Workday ends at sundown, but you'll get a break for lunch. Remember: head to the shed when you're done," he said, stretching as he stood. Leaving the basket, he began to walk off in the direction of the house, giving her a final wave goodbye as she glared holes into his back.

Whatever. Some preds wouldn't have even spared her a moment to talk, and he seemed to know this place well. If she were going to stay here, she would need frie- allies, whether or not they eyed her like their next meal.

Her gaze shifted to the basket, tracing the shoddy handle with her eyes. It was time to get her thoughts in order, and so with a mechanical edge in her movements she began picking blueberries and dropping them carelessly into the basket.

First off, was she safe?

...Debatable, but some long-buried shred of optimism in her leaned towards yes. Nick appeared friendly and clearly wanted her alive, but he was obviously hiding more than he let on. Surprisingly, nobody so far had actively tried to kill her, which was a nice change of pace from the last year.

Second, what was next? She'd been cut off earlier when starting to think about it, and yet she still didn't have a good answer. Waiting for Ben to get back to her was the most reasonable option, but she hated waiting. Admittedly, so far Badgerburrow was leagues better than the city, but there was no guarantee that would last, and certainly no guarantee she'd still be around to take advantage of that fact.

Offhandedly, she wondered if it was pessimism or pragmatism that always kept the thought of death nipping at her heels. Maybe both, but either way she was grateful.

A quiet creak broke her from her haze of thoughts, prompting a flinch. Glancing down to the sound's source - the blueberry basket - a few seconds passed before she realized it was filled to the brim. She'd done her job unconsciously.

Fine by her. Out of all the things to hold over from the city, knowing how to tune out in the middle of a boring task might be one of the more useful, and killing time might become a necessity in the near future. The sun hung high in the sky - by her estimation, it was about noon. Time to head back.

Heat and fatigue pooled between her ears as she began walking to the house; the last few days were finally starting to catch up to her. She'd managed to nap earlier, but not enough to scrape off the tiredness, and not nearly enough to call herself rested. Maybe she could persuade Duke to give her a longer break.

As the shed came closer and closer, she realized it was almost the same as the house: vegetation crowded every nook and cranny it could amongst layered wood, dim and broken with age. The door was massive; big enough for an elephant, and the top hinge was shredded clean off. She remembered that the other shed - the one she'd slept in - was about her size, so it seemed reasonable to assume that this one was for larger mammals.

Luckily, the door was opened far enough for her to slip inside. The ground seemed to change consistency in an instant; her paws sank a quarter-inch into the earthy slurry that substituted a floor, like the top layer was quicksand.

Ignoring the mud coating her paws, she continued inside, marveling at the size. It almost seemed bigger on the inside, and she had to make a full 360 to catch the bare basics of the room. The sheer size was almost admirable; Nick and Duke couldn't have built it alone.

Spying Duke in the far corner, she slowly padded her way over to him. He sat on an overturned bucket, hunched twitchily over what Judy could just barely make out as a book. Maybe some sort of ledger?

"Hello?" she called warily, still a few yards out.

Immediately, he flinched, turning to her with a guilty smile and a quiet swear as he held the book behind his back. She motioned to the basket tiredly; whatever he was up to, it didn't seem to involve her, and her growing exhaustion decided she didn't care enough to find out.

"Oh! Hey, right, the blueberries," he fumbled, setting the book down on a nearby desk. "Thanks, cottontail."

Something in his eyes softened as he gave her a concerned once-over, his eyes catching on the fresh scars painted across her arms. They'd flared up in the morning sun, bright and rashy against her fur after working. With a furtive glance over her shoulder to make sure no other mammals were present, he took the basket from her paws and she stared back, silently goading him to offer the obvious question.

"You alright?" he asked bluntly, genuine concern lacing his words. "I know sometimes prey come in… beat up, but by the looks of it you got some serious injuries, rabbit."

She considered lying, but the weasel had already noticed her wounds, and besides that the question didn't exactly seem malicious. Lingering suspicion urged her to misdirect him anyway, but it was promptly crushed by a wave of bone-deep exhaustion.

"...I could use some rest," Judy finally muttered. The words felt alien and thick coming out of her mouth; when was the last time she'd asked - much less been granted - a break? It was a long shot, and asking absolutely could hurt, but she was running dry on patience.

To her surprise, the weasel nodded sympathetically. "That don't surprise me. Most mammals do for the first few weeks, and it's only your first day. How about I cover for you? On me. No favors or tricky shit like that, I promise."

Doubtfully, Judy weighed the offer. Something about the directness of it was comforting, in a sense, and Duke didn't strike her as the manipulative type. Then again, he was still a pred, and she'd met him today. That was not a very consoling combination.

"Thanks," she began decisively, forcing herself into a choice. Dithering back and forth wasn't going to help anybody. "That'd be great."

Duke nodded absentmindedly. "No problem, rabbit. Take as long as you need - I'll tell Nick you're done for the day. D'you know where you're going?"

Out of Badgerburrow, at the very least. She figured telling that to his face would not help progress their seemingly-budding acquaintanceship.

"No," she started, biting back a reflexive 'sorry'. "I didn't get to see much of the house. Is there somewhere safe I can sleep?"

He nodded again, with a nervous edge to the movement that caught her attention. "Go through the back door, head down the hallway, and climb the stairs. Guest room will be just to your right."

Stepping forward slightly, he made a gesture she couldn't even begin to interpret, but the tone of his voice told her all she needed to know. "Close the door. Some folk here aren't as… friendly as me. They're unfriendly," he whispered conspiratorially. Despite the hollow silliness of his words, a snake-like shiver slithered down her spine, pressing against the weight of her backpack.

"I understand," she said slowly, pawing at the outline of the knife in her pocket. Duke didn't catch the movement. "Thanks again. You'll tell Nick where I am?"

He offered a candid thumbs-up. "Will do. Go get some rest, rabbit," he finished, shifting his attention back to the desk.

Mirroring the thumbs-up as she turned back to the door, Judy gave one last glance to Duke as he opened his book again. Even though she was dead-tired, a creeping sense of wrongness began to grip her as she mentally replayed their conversation while walking back to the house.

It wasn't suspicion - although she certainly harbored a fair amount of that, too - but rather an inkling of incongruity, like she'd somehow fit a square peg into another peg. There was something off about the way they'd talked, but she figured that would be best investigated once she was rested.

Following Duke's instructions to the letter, Judy listlessly opened the house's backdoor and ascended the wooden stairs at the end of the hall. Each footfall seemed to echo with a uniquely pitched creak, like the ragged steps were part of a broken piano.

The thin veneer of silence returned as she reached the top, wearily headed to the closest door. "GUEST" was printed in messy white paint across the front, and so she pushed into the room, hoping to at least find a nest of hay to sleep on.

To her surprise, the room contained a bed - a real bed. There were (admittedly cheap, but she could hardly tell) blankets and pillows scattered haphazardly across the mattress, and as she closed the door behind her she could smell the faint scent of clean fabric.

Her jaw dropped. She'd never slept in a real bed before; Zootopian prey weren't given the luxury, and she didn't know a single one that dared to sleep in their masters' bed. A strange mixture of excitement and trepidation bubbled in the pit of her stomach, but her conscious brain demanded she take the opportunity while she could.

Climbing carefully onto the sheets, Judy marveled at the softness - it was somehow fluffier than even Dawn's wool, and nearly as warm. Was this really what preds used to sleep with? She wondered how they could ever feel tired.

As her thoughts finally drew to a stand-still, Judy raised the covers over herself and let her head hit the pillow. Fortunately, the room was unlit when she came in, and so soon the clutches of sleep won a very one-sided battle against her consciousness. A slight snore filled the room.

The door stayed firmly closed.

The hallways of the manor were never empty. Subdued, maybe, but she'd never seen anywhere inside completely devoid of mammals. Even the tucked-away corners have their cleaners, which strikes her as awfully inefficient.

Ugh. Clearly, she had run out of things to think about. JH, sighing, rechecked her mental map for the fourth time. Yes, she was going the right direction. No, there weren't any faster routes. Sprinting from the backside of the house to the outside was always time-killer.

Out of the corner of one eye, she sees a cheetah waving her over. Everything twists as her mind curls in on itself, retching violently as the memories are dragged to the surface. She's suddenly standing still in front of him, nearly out the front door of the manor.

"I- uh… Hi. JH614040, right?" the cheetah recited uncertainly, holding both paws behind his back as she adjusts to the new setting. Unease radiated off him in waves, choking the air with a thick haze of awkwardness. JH's ear twitched.

"JH614030, sir," she said quietly, bowing. Whatever this pred wanted, she hoped it would be fast. Wasn't she in the middle of something?

"Ah. I don't know if you know me, but I'm Edgar Clawhauser's son, Benjamin Clawhauser. Please, call me Ben."

"I don't think we've met, sir," JH replied mechanically. "But I do work for your father."

Clawhauser - was it really okay to call him Ben? - nodded as his tail flicked nervously from side to side. "Y-yeah. I know. Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about… that. Could you get your sheep friend - DB617150, I think - and meet me at my office? It's three doors down from my father's. Don't worry about your errand."

Pain contorted her face into a long-suffering smile, rife with pure fear. She wanted to scream. "Of course, sir. I'll go get her now," she said, before darkness swallows them both.

The dreamscape abruptly skipped an hour, walls and floors shuffling like a deck of cards in a tornado. JH, recoiling from the shock before forgetting it altogether, walked slowly down the main hallway, side-by-side with DB. The rabbit wore an expression of hopelessness, but the ewe's was made of knives.

"What do you think he wants us for?" JH asked miserably. As far as she remembered, neither of them had misbehaved recently; most of her bruises have faded.

"I don't know, JH, but I'm not letting him do anything to you. Enough is enough," DB snarled. Her voice is sharp as a nail and twice as pointed.

"You'll be killed!" JH whisper-shouted, horrified. "You know I can't lose you. Please, DB, be reasonable." Utter desperation drips each word, only throwing more gasoline onto the sheep's smoldering anger.

"I've had enough 'being reasonable' for a lifetime," the sheep muttered, finally reaching the door. "Let's just get this over with."

Reluctantly, JH nodded, knocking on the gilded metal twice. The door's six times as tall as her and eight times as wide, but nonetheless the sound echoed eerily in her ears. A few beats of silence passed, and after a shared glance of worry the cheetah poked his head out. The smile he wore was infested with an unsettling amount of warmth, causing both of the prey to flinch.

"Oh, good! You two made it. Come inside, quickly," he whispered furtively, gesturing for them to come inside. Without hesitation, DB took the first step over the threshold, holding JH by the paw.

Clawhauser's office was… quaint. She could hardly imagine him working in such a small environment - it was more of a closet than anything fit for a predator. Preening silver and glazed wood wrapped the room in a tight grip, and a pair of stylized lights dotted the top. Scattered paper was strewn about the floor like a second carpet, and both prey took special care in avoiding each piece.

Closing the door quietly, Clawhauser turned slowly back at them, keeping his eyes drawn away. "Okay, first off, I need you to promise not to tell my father what I'm about to say. That's an order."

The concern that had mired their faces gave way to curiosity. "Of course, sir," they said unanimously.

The cheetah took a deep breath in, then a shaky one out. Gathering every bit of courage he could, he finally focused his gaze on JH's eyes, saying the next words very slowly.

"I want to help you escape."

Judy woke up to two distinct knocks as her fatigue fell away. Sleepiness clouded her brain, but she felt more rested than she had in weeks, and as her eyes slowly opened she was reminded why: she'd slept in an actual bed. Hesitatingly, she let her paws run across the fabric in a silent assurance that they weren't part of a dream.

Two knocks again, this time a touch more insistent.

"Coming!" she called. Taking a few more seconds to appreciate the comfort, Judy hopped out of bed, carefully making her way to the door. Even though the remnants of sleep pulled at her mind, she remembered Duke's advice, pausing as her paw instinctively reached the door handle. "Who is it?"

"It's Nick," an unsurprisingly Nick-like voice answered. "Good morning to you too. Everything alright?"

She checked herself for injuries. Some of the scars had begun to set, and flecks of dry blood caked the tops of her paws. Nothing new.

"Yeah," Judy said back, unused to the question. Honestly, she should've been expecting the unexpected - what wasn't going to be a new experience today?

She let that thought wither under a razor-sharp resolve. Whatever was going to happen, she would defend herself and damn the consequences.

"Great. C'mon out whenever you're ready; it's a short walk," Nick said casually. She could almost envision him leaning lazily against the door.

Taking a quick inventory - backpack, knife, etc. - Judy padded over to his voice, cautiously letting the door open. It shut noiselessly behind her. The fox was standing against the opposite wall, amused at her wariness, and with a gesture for her to follow, Nick made his way to the stairs, his head disappearing below the pawrail. Hesitatingly, she followed, barely catching a view of his tail as he wound down a hallway towards the front.

As she jogged further to catch up, she couldn't help but notice that the house seemed less active than yesterday. The windows had their fabric shades drawn, and the shoddy electric light bulbs above cast a duller light on the pale floorboards. Even the distant hum of mammalian activity she'd noticed before had gone, like the house was about to be demolished.

After only a few minutes of walking, she realized they'd navigated back to the front, and she spied the phone still sitting patiently at its perch. Only a day or so before, she'd managed to escape the city and get back in contact with Ben. Duke and Nick, although certainly not trustworthy, were at least not outwardly trying to kill her. That had to count for something. As Nick slipped through the front and Judy followed, she let an aura of calm settle over herself.

Until she saw what was outside. Mammals of all shapes and sizes, pred and prey - she assumed some were farmhands, based on their clothes, but others seemed better-dressed - sat in front of the house, whispering to each other. All of their eyes turned to Nick as he strode confidently across the porch.

"You wanna know why I need to hear your story?" he asked smugly. Judy, open-mouthed, couldn't even manage a stare in response. How many mammals were here!? Less than a hundred, but that was still enough to floor her.

Nick smiled broadly, amused at her confusion, before gesturing to the small army of mammals in front of him. "We're going to overthrow Zootopia."