Zootopia: Runaway: Gazelle's Story

Chapter 9: Club Fur

"Gazelle, can you please pick up the last of the equipment?"

Tabby's voice reached into Gazelle's ears and pulled her out of the mire she was wallowing in.

"Yes, Tabby. Got it," she said as she dejectedly began to unplug and pick up cables and wrap them around her arm. It was a monotonous exercise, but it was necessary to keep everything organized for their concerts and practices.

It had been about a month since the night Gazelle had witnessed Bobby Catmull's daughter's ghastly taming party. She hadn't said a thing to anyone about it, since she reasoned that all they would say is "I'm sorry you had to find out like this," and also, since the majority of them were predators, they had probably experienced the taming parties firsthand as youngsters. She had decided to go it alone, making a decision on her own.

And it had been one of the worst decisions she had ever made. In addition to the painful memories of her parents' death and the harrowing memories of the riot at Koslov's Castle, she now had a third, equally disturbing memory implanted firmly in her mind: the crushed and terrified look on little Madilynn Catmull's face.

Gazelle was beginning to get tired of all these secrets. Her heart was heavy and her spirit stifled as she contemplated all the horrible things she had seen. If only she could just tell someone.

'But I can't,' her mind shrieked in panic. 'I can't tell the others!'

And yet, at the same time, she wanted so desperately to tell someone. Anything to ease the burden on her heart.

After she managed to help Tabby pack up the stuff for practice, Gazelle told the others she would be along in a few minutes.

After double-checking the lighting booth to make sure that Solomon hadn't left a light on anywhere (something he was prone to do) and turning off the radio system from the master switch backstage, Gazelle headed into the lobby to make sure the doors were locked.

She was surprised to see Symba standing next to the front doors, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Symba! What are you doing here?" she gasped, a tad bit unnerved to find that Symba was hanging around in the theater after practice.

The cheetah looked sheepish as he nodded over in the direction of the restroom. Her question answered, Symba spoke to Gazelle, and had a strange look about him.

"Hey, Gazelle," he said, talking awkwardly around his words, "I was just, um, getting ready to head into town for a while."

"Oh, really? Where to?" Gazelle asked as she tightened up the lock on the front door. She had noticed, over the past few weeks, that Symba had been leaving the apartment a lot more often and going for walks. She hadn't questioned it until now, since she knew where he was going.

"Well," Symba explained, "I need the fresh air from time to time. I hear that Capital City Center is beautiful at night. Do you want to come?"

Gazelle's first instinct was to say no. Symba wasn't being specific about where he wanted to go. For all she knew, Symba could take her into a bad neighborhood, like the infamous Phylum Plains, a hangout for dealers in all sorts of nasty things. Or worse.

However, there was something odd that Gazelle noticed about the young cheetah. There was something... anxious in Symba's eyes, as though he was afraid of something that was imminently approaching. Something urgent. Almost like he desperately had to tell her something. It was the same look Gazelle had seen in her own eyes every day for the past few weeks, staring at her reflection in the mirror while brushing her teeth.