More a matter of Barbara and such than Nick and Judy's love life.

Looking for Love 4

Mara Anlef regarded her current mission. Escorting a refugee Vixen and her Cub around the City was hardly the role she might envision at this point in her career. Though to be honest, she never though she'd live long enough to have a 'this point in her career' moment. On the other hand, the cumulative attrition of surviving so far had left her able for little more than these leisurely walks. And she had a telescoping cane in her purse if things got aggravated.

It was too nice a day and her charges were too pleasant company to dwell on the past. Barbara was charming and witty and much too enthusiastic in life for her age and Mara marveled more than envied that they were only days apart in birth. Moreover, the Vixen had a past not so different than her own, well not as bloody, but loved ones and homelands lost. But she now also had a delightful Son and was free from fear in a new home.

A bonus to these excursions was that it allowed her to visit all the locations around the city that she would have liked to have seen but never took the initiative to do for herself. Today was a walk through a temperate woodland zone bordering the arctic Tundra Town habitat. As the baseline climate for Zootopia was a bit warmer than she was accustomed to, this was particularly welcome.

"Would you like to stop for some tea?" Barbara asked. It was a bakery with signage touting goodies and teas from around the world. Little Bernard was getting a little wiggly and something to teeth on could keep him occupied.

"That does sound good." Mara wasn't going to mention that her knees thanked her for the suggestion as well, but suspected Barbara already knew that. That Fox was perhaps too observant for her own good. An Agent was not suppose to have 'tells', but this Vixen, not unlike that fool of a Fox, Wilde, seemed to be able to read her all too well.

And there was something else.

She knew that these civilians had some inkling of her troubled past. Likely, that Damned Dave had told them things. How else could they have known to be patient with her on her dark days, never trying to draw her out or pry into her past. And do so with such gentle grace. It was the Two Fools, Hopps and Wilde, who had unwittingly swayed her with their genuine affection to not take that One Last Mission.

The bakery seemed true to its words. A marvel of scents buried them, and the pair began to point out all number of unusual and exotic goods in the cases. "How is it that you know of all these?" Mara was widely traveled, but knew Barbara had not been so lucky.

"Before the change in government closed it, we had a wonderful International School at our university. All the kids who could, ran an informal cafe with their favorite foods and such from home." She yummed with a happy memory. She began pointing out treats for Bernard, who squealed in delight, as much from her Mother's enthusiasm as much as the overwhelming sight and aroma of all those goodies.

The Vixen saw something and paused, glancing over to Mara. In a slightly guarded tone, she pointed out, "They have boobushies, both kinds."

Mara froze, but only for an instant, then looked for somewhere to sit down. Little wrought iron cafe furniture was just fine. Barbara knew, at least some small part. She took a deep breath to clear herself. The Vixen's face showed concern, even pity. "You alright?"

Mara's professional mask was now on, but she did concede one thing. "Order two of each, and some black tea for me, please."

Barbara handed off Bernard to Mara, who did her best to merely hold him up to watch his Mother fetch the treats. How much she wanted to hug him, enfold him in her, smell his little milk-fed body mingled with hers. Especially in a moment like this. But that kind of thing was dead and gone. Mercifully, Barbara was back in a moment, with tea for the two and the innocuous little round pastries.

"You know about boobushies."

"Uhm, about how they represented the uncertainties of life, identical on the outside but so different inside, but both to be eaten and savored?" Barbara answered warily. "We had some Ashai students in the class. And I recognized your accent."

Mara closed her eyes. That name had likely not been uttered by a living soul in a generation.

"I'm sorry. Have I said too much?" Barbara was concerned, almost alarmed. Mara waved such away.

"It has just been so long since..." Mara gave a weak little smile. "It is not terrible. Anymore." She collected herself. "Yes, I am Ashai. Born and raised. But, being a female, I wasn't taught all the old ways, was expected to just be a Wife and Mother. I even was for a little while."

Mara could tell Barbara likely knew what was coming next. At least in general. Genocidal civil war had made her people extinct, not a species, but a culture, an ethnicity just different enough to be labeled 'alien' by a cynical government seeking 'national unity'. But she was not going to tell her about her personal costs and one terrible talent, brought out those worst of times.

In close, personal combat, passions could be stirred to bring out the savage, bestial nature in opponents. Often hand-to-hand fighting became a primeval battle of tooth and claw. Not so with Mara. She fought smart, emotionless, exploiting her enemy's desire for direct contact, she countered with steel or lead. But at a cost. Wilde had seen her ruined coat, a history of deathly contacts in scars lacing her body.

"Please do not tell Wilde and Hopps about me. While they know I came from a bad place and time, they don't know exactly where or when."

Barbara reached across the little table and gripped her paw. "Whatever you say." Then considered a moment before continuing, "Do I, does he... I don't know. Is this assignment - tough?" Mara felt a stab of regret for her sake, but Barbara pressed on. "I can tell you had a Son too..."

Mara wanted to hug, kiss the silly Vixen for her concern. But that would not do. She did smile, a real gimpse of joy. "That you are here with your Son, with such love, is all bright future. It gives me some hope for us all." She wiped her face. Such emotions.

They sat for a good while. The tea was warm and the boobushies as good as any she could remember, and she indulged in just a tiny bit of nostalgia. They were not all bad days. A worry free childhood in a tiny rural village. A Loving Mate in a time of peace. Even some down time with that Damned Dave. He was such a wonderful exasperation. Well, viewed from a distance, maybe.

Before they left, she had to ask the baker, "How, where, did you get the recipe for the boobushies?"

The baker, a middle-aged badger responded, "Ah, boobushies," getting the accent right upon hearing her pronunciation. My Grandmother started the bakery, from a collection of old recipes she had found and traded. She was really keen on obscure stuff; especially it had a history or special tradition behind it. I'll show you." He went into the back and came out with an over-size album. Inside the clear plastic leaves where innumerable scraps and sheets, most yellowed and stained for years of kitchen use. He turned to the one in question. There were the instructions; neatly written out in the old tongue, ink faded to only a few shades darker than the ancient paper it was on, with a translation and additional notes off to the side, only scantly younger.

"Didn't know anything about its history, just followed the instructions. Took a while for folks to catch on to it, but once they give it a try, they either love it or leave it. Not the hottest seller, but enough to keep it on the shelves."

"Can I make an addition? It comes from my people."

"Please!" the baker was delighted, but wanted any additional information on a separate sheet. It made sense, as the original looked like it dare not be touched.

Mara wrote out a brief bit as to the regional source and a more complete explanation of the symbology of the two types, in both the old tongue and modern Zootopian.

The baker was amazed. "I didn't know. Ought to put up a little sign to better explain it. Thank you ever so." He offered them a whole batch more, but Mara waved them off, promising to come back again soon. Maybe not too soon or too often. Not all the memories were good. But, it was still a treat of a discovery.

Then back to work. And a bonus for the break, her knees were not biting her anymore. "So, where to next?"

For those who haven't dug deeper into the gallery, here is a bit of wrenchingly awful bit of back story - http://www.furaffinity.net/view/20467542/