Crabtree was a town that had lost its shine a long time ago. Once, it might have been quaint—a place where folks knew each other by name and waved when they passed on the street. But now, it felt like a waiting room for something better, something just out of reach.
It was tucked away from the world, a place that felt like it existed in its own time—somewhere between yesterday and a distant, forgotten stolen tomorrow that they missed getting too. The air was crisp, almost cold, and there was a stillness that seemed to hang over everything, like a held breath.
Lily stepped out onto the porch of her family's small cottage, her red fur catching the early light. She pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders. The jacket was a little too big, a hand-me-down from her older brother, but it was warm, and that was all that mattered this morning. Her breath formed little clouds in front of her as she stepped down onto the path, her hooves crunching on the frost-kissed ground. She was running a bit late, which wasn't like her, but she hadn't slept well the night before. Nightmares had kept her tossing and turning until the gray light of dawn.
walking through the misty streets, trying not to let the heaviness of it all settle too deep into her bones. The houses around her were silent, dark windows peering out like watchful eyes. Most of the villagers would still be inside, finishing their breakfast or preparing for the day, but us youth had to get up early to study all day for nothing; it just felt like a waste of time. There wasn't any opportunity here, and she didn't think there was any left for a deer in the rest of the world. There was nothing we could do that another animal could do better. So that's why most of the towns population stayed at a lower-middle-class job for their entire lives, like her mom before she lost her job.
Main Street was mostly quiet at this hour, save for the older folks who always seemed to rise with the sun. The shop windows were tired, just like the faces of the people who still worked here. The old pharmacy had a 'For Lease' sign that had been up so long it had started to fade. Next door, the grocery store had gone under months ago, its windows dark and covered with brown paper. There was a thrift shop that seemed to hang on, but only barely, with the same musty clothes and outdated knick-knacks lining the shelves.
She passed the hardware store, its owner—a gruff-looking goat with a long, gray beard—standing outside, sweeping the pavement with slow, deliberate strokes. He nodded to her as she went by, and she gave a half-hearted wave in return. It wasn't that she disliked him, but there wasn't much to say. No one really wanted to be here, not even the ones who stayed.
Now, there was talk of moving people to a new development the governor had been pushing—some fancy community up north, away from all this mess.
But she didn't want to go, even though her mom had told her it was a good idea. She didn't like the terms of that private neighborhood. It had so weird laws and the people running it, people her brother didn't talk nicely about, and she trusted him, so she stayed suspicious of them.
The town was more diverse than most places, with all sorts of ungulates trying to make a living. The antelope, cows, sheep, and goats had their own little enclaves, but there was tension. The deer were cautious around them, always on edge. The farm animals didn't like the deer or the antelope much, either. It felt like everyone was just one bad day away from snapping.
and she felt that maybe some people were waiting for it to happen with alot more enthusiasm than worry.
Lily pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders, feeling a slight chill with the weather. She glanced at the mall in the distance—the only place that still felt halfway alive in this dying town. The mall had a music store that sold the latest CDs, a movie theater with sticky floors and squeaky seats, and a food court with a new burger joint that all the kids said was "pretty good." But even the mall had lost some of its charm lately. Too many shops were closing down, and the ones that stayed open seemed to have less to offer every day.
Lily passed the diner, where a group of older deer hunched over their coffee mugs, eyes fixed on the small TV mounted behind the counter. The news was on, the volume low but the images stark—fires, smoke, and words scrolling across the bottom of the screen: "WAR IN THE SANDBOX: NO END IN SIGHT." The waitress, a gray-haired sheep, stood with her arms crossed, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else.
"How come we haven't won yet?" an old buck grumbled from his seat, shaking his head. "What are they even doing out there?"
"Wasting time and money, that's what," another chimed in, his voice thick with frustration. "And now they're saying gas prices are going up again. As if we didn't have enough problems."
Lily quickened her pace, not wanting to hear more. The war had been the only thing people talked about for months, and she was sick of it. Her brother, Josh, had volunteered to fight despite her and their parents' pleas. She still remembered that night, the argument, the way she'd cried and begged him to stay. But he'd looked at her, his expression cold, and said there were more important things than their family's feelings—said their species was threatened by outsiders and he had to do something.
She hadn't understood then, and she still didn't. It was like he'd changed overnight. A lot of the older kids had. Friend groups that had been tight for years suddenly fractured over arguments about the war. Some, like Josh, were gung-ho about it, ready to fight. Others thought it was a waste of time, a distraction from the real problems at home. Lily didn't know what to think, except that it felt like everything was falling apart.
As she walked toward the school, she passed groups of kids already caught in heated debates.
"It's not our fight!" a young antelope shouted, his voice cracking. "Why should we care?"
A sheep across from him shook her head, her face flushed. "It's about more than just us—it's about all of us standing up together!"
Others were quieter, whispering among themselves or staring at the ground. Lily noticed a small group of girls in the corner, their faces pale, clutching empty lunch boxes and looking at food stamps with tear-filled eyes. She overheard one of them pleading with a teacher, "Please, Mrs. Calloway, I just need a little… My mom lost her job, and I haven't eaten since yesterday."
The teacher, a tired-looking antelope with dark circles under her eyes, patted the girl's arm. "I'll see what I can do, sweetheart, but we're running out of resources too."
Lily felt a pang in her chest. She knew that pain, that worry. Her family wasn't doing well, either. There was never enough to go around, and now, with her brother gone, it felt like they were missing a piece they couldn't replace.
The school building loomed ahead; old bricks darkened with years of rain and neglect. Once, it had been well-kept, the pride of the community. Now, the paint was peeling, the windows were cracked, and the playground equipment was rusted and broken. The rumors were that this year's budget had only come through at a quarter of what it should have been. There wasn't enough to keep things going.
Inside, the halls were a mess. Lily saw more students crying, teachers whispering anxiously in corners. One teacher complained loudly, "We haven't had a single new part for the computers in months! Everything's breaking down, and nothing's being replaced."
The principal, a stern-looking goat with a tired expression, shrugged helplessly. "The shipment was on a container that got hit by a missile. There's nothing we can do."
Lily glanced over at a group of students huddled around a table, talking quietly. Cassie, the white-tailed deer who always seemed to be at the center of everything. Cassie had a kind of beauty that drew people to her—blonde curls and a confident smile—but there was a sharpness behind her eyes, like she was always looking for something to tear apart.
"I don't know why you all worry so much," Cassie said, her voice carrying across the room. "If people leave, who cares? It's not like they were doing us any good staying here."
Lily's sika friend, Nia, was hunched over, looking at a pile of forms with a teacher, trying to fill out an application for food stamps. Cassie's eyes flicked over to her, and she smirked. "Oh, look, Nia's begging for scraps again."
Lily felt a surge of anger but forced herself to stay calm. She walked over and sat beside Nia, nudging her shoulder. "Hey, ignore her. Let's get this done, okay?"
Nia looked up, her eyes wet but determined. "Thanks, Lily. I just... I don't know what else to do."
Lily gave her a small smile. "We'll figure it out."
Across the room, Elara, the elk girl, was holding court herself, surrounded by a few others. She had no lunch with her, but she didn't seem bothered. She was tall and strong, with a kind of ruggedness that made people think twice about messing with her.
"What's everyone so stressed about?" Elara said with a grin. "I got all my food this morning, fishing down by the river. Plenty of stuff if you know where to look. And I don't need to do homework, either—I just barter with the school for the food bank. Works for me."
Lily couldn't help but smile a bit. Elara had always been like that—tough, self-sufficient, taking on the world with a grin and a shrug. She admired it, even if she didn't always understand it.
The bell rang, and they shuffled to their seats. The teacher, Mrs. Hargrove, stepped to the front of the class. She looked more tired than usual; her gray hair pulled back tight. "Okay, class, settle down. We've got a lot to cover today…"
Lily tried to focus, but the worries swirled around her—about Stacy, about her brother, about everything. She glanced over at Mara, the maral deer who had been close with Stacy. Mara was staring down at her desk, her face a mask of unreadable emotions.
Lily tried to pay attention, but her mind kept wandering. She glanced over at Mara, a maral deer who had been close friends with Stacy. Mara looked lost in her own world, her expression unreadable, her dark hair hanging around her face like a curtain. She hadn't said much all day; she just sat there, staring out the window.
Lily tried to pay attention, but her mind kept wandering. She glanced over at Mara, a maral deer who had been close friends with Stacy. Mara looked lost in her own world, her expression unreadable, her dark hair hanging around her face like a curtain. She hadn't said much all day; she just sat there, staring out the window.
The hours dragged by, the ticking of the clock loud in the quiet classroom. When lunch finally came, Lily felt a wave of relief. She grabbed her bag and headed to the cafeteria with Nia, Mara, and Elara trailing behind her.
The cafeteria was a gloomy place, the ceiling lights flickering and buzzing. The food line was long, and many trays were already empty. Lily picked through what was left, grabbing a half-stale roll and a bruised apple, some salads of freshly green browse, some young pinecone jam, and whatever was left of the roasted acorn stew.
Getting the last bit of that stew made the girls behind me upset, claiming I was hogging all of the food to myself. I never felt that way before; there was always food on the table for me. It was a foreign feeling and one I wasn't comfortable with because, what if that happens to me too one day?
She spotted Mara sitting alone at a table in the back, her tray untouched. Lily hesitated for a moment, then made her way over, sliding into the seat across from her.
"Hey," she said softly. "You okay?"
Mara looked up, her eyes hollow. "Yeah… I guess."
"Have you seen Stacy?" Lily asked, trying to keep her voice light. "She wasn't in class today."
Mara shook her head. "No… not since yesterday.
Lily frowned. Stacy had never been the type to just disappear, not without saying something. She was bold and outspoken, always in the center of conversation. It wasn't like her to vanish.
"Maybe she's just skipping," Elara suggested as she joined them at the table, plopping down with a sigh. "You know how she is, always doing her own thing."
"Maybe," Lily said, though her stomach tightened. Something didn't feel right. "We should check on her after school. Make sure she's okay."
Mara nodded slowly. "Yeah… yeah, we should."