Zootopia: Runaway: Gazelle's Story

Chapter 12: Tragedy At Midnight

Gazelle worked on the basic tune of her song until her eyelids had begun to fall under their own weight. After many hours of slaving away over the keyboard, she finally went back to bed, enlightened by the situation in the musical world she now felt called to reform, and ridiculously tired.

This repeated lack of sleep was beginning to affect Gazelle's appearance physically as well as mentally. This became apparent to her the next morning as she washed her face in the sink. The bags under her eyes were self-evident, and no amount of rubbing them with her hooves would get rid of them.

I need energy, her body told her as she headed for the shower. She quickly told her body that she would probably have more energy by the time she headed to breakfast.

Breakfast was where the trouble started.

Solomon, Tabby and Britt were already up by the time Gazelle stepped into the kitchen, as was Symba. The kingfishers, Dylan and Adam were still asleep, in the other room. Britt was busy trying to wake Solomon up, since he'd fallen asleep in his bowl of Froot Lupis and was now snoring into his milk.

Symba was busy staring at the counter like he'd just woken up, his brows wrinkled and furrowed.

"Good morning, Symba," Gazelle said cheerily to the big cheetah as she began to gather together her breakfast.

"G'morning," Symba replied hoarsely, and went on staring at the counter absentmindedly.

Gazelle took a second look at his face as she removed a pair of waffles from the box in the fridge. Symba's eyes didn't have that same spark that he had had all this time; that sort of warm, friendly glimmer which had inspired both perseverance and love in her heart.

The two waffles slid effortlessly into the toaster.

"Trouble sleeping?" Gazelle asked, turning the toaster's dial up to three as she did.

Symba's response was a low, unintelligible growl. It was almost like he was muttering in his sleep.

"Symba?" she asked, a little concerned.

"Hmm?"

"I asked if you had trouble sleeping."

The cheetah nodded.

"My back hurts," he admitted, his voice still hoarse and growl-y.

Gazelle grabbed her plate and a glass of water as she sympathized with the big cat.

"Well," she said, "I can get you some of that painkiller stuff in the store room."

Symba shook his head: "I'm fine, Gazzy. I don't need the trouble."

"No, really, it'll be no trouble at all," Gazelle continued, but then Symba shot her a look that was totally alien—one that was angry and full of rage and full of everything that Gazelle knew Symba was not full of. It was like being stared at by another animal entirely.

But then, Symba seemed to see the alarm in Gazelle's brown eyes, and that alien look in his own eyes began to fade away rapidly.

"I guess that would be OK, Gazzy," he said at last, and Gazelle was reassured that the love of her life was feeling all right. However, as she retrieved the wondrous waffles from the toaster, she made a metal agreement to leave him alone until before practice. Something gave her the feeling that Symba had not slept very well the previous night, and she knew that cheetahs without sleep were prone to irritability.