Zig Zag is Copyright © Max Black Rabbit. Sabrina, Darke Katt and R.C. are Copyright © Eric W. Schwartz. James Sheppard, Marvin Badger, Rhonda Badger, Yohni, Alexi, Michael, Esteban, Mia, Wanda Vixen and Tamara Rabbit are Copyright © James Bruner. Alex O'Whitt is © Tigermark. The B-Team is © Silver Coyote. Jean LeBrun, Gabrielle Ryder, Timothy Bigglesworth-Farthington von Salzburg, Malcolm Grazer, Doctor Fox Jones, Peter Spermophilus, Miranda Spermophilus, Dina Spermophilus, Leo Leon, Miriam Redtail, Lizzy Doe, Emma Grey, Professor Moose Nicholson, Professor Erica Belge and Pethouse Magazine is © Joan Jacobsen, 2005. All other characters appearing in this story, except where otherwise specifically noted, are likewise © Joan Jacobsen.

Legal Notice: This story is Copyright © 2005 by Joan Jacobsen. This story may not be sold or used for commercial profit in any form or fashion. This story may not be modified in any way. This story may not be posted on a mirror site or any other Internet site without the written permission of the author. This story may not be distributed on print, magnetic, electrical or optical mediums.

Permission to use characters that are Copyright other individuals was obtained prior to the appearance of said characters.

The author, Joan Jacobsen, hereby asserts moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is an independent work of fiction with no connection whatsoever to Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, E.S. Productions or James Bruner and is in no way meant to imply any connection with Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, E.S. Productions, or James Bruner. This story contains characters created by Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, James Bruner, Tigermark and Silver Coyote. Events and characters occurring in this story should not be considered part of the storylines for either 'Zig Zag', 'Sabrina Online' or 'Sabrina Online - The Story'.

In fact, as far as 'Zig Zag', 'Sabrina Online', 'Sabrina Online - The Story' and 'Zig Zag the Story' are concerned, this story does not exist. The artists disavow any knowledge of and do not officially sanction the events in this story.er nodded. "I'm sure."

How we came to be...

It had been three days since Leo had written to Lizzy, and he felt like he hadn't had a quiet moment since. It was impossible for him to recall most of the things he had done in detail, but he knew most of it had stuck with him. Especially the various meetings with the other officers, where the tactical and strategical position of US forces in the area was explained.

It was an important part of any artillery-officer's duties to know precisely where his allies were. Precisely. Preferably down to the yard and inch, if possible. Fortunately, it had been a quiet period, and no combat had actually taken place. It had given the troops time to get used to their new surroundings. Every fur in the platoon had started to relax a little. Even Corporal Twain, although he was obviously still twitchy whenever he got near a Fourth Platoon fur. Leo had instructed Sergeant Pardinus to keep a close eye on the equine.

As luck would have it, Leo spotted the corporal sitting by himself by one of the howitzers.

The lion changed direction and headed over there. When he was ten or fifteen yards away, the equine spotted him and jumped up and to attention.

"At ease, Corporal. Sit down, relax before you sprain something," Leo chuckled. "Mind if I have a word with you?"

Corporal Twain considered snapping off a salute, but remembered that they were in a combat-zone and that saluting wasn't allowed there. Instead, he nodded to Leo and sat back down. "Go ahead sir. I don't mind," he answered.

"Good, good..." Leo mumbled, mostly to himself as he found a place to sit down. "I wanted to ask a few things...after what happened in the common room."

Corporal Twain's face split into a grimace of discomfort. "I'm sorry, Sir. I was out of line and I know it. I should have kept my mouth shut and let you deal with it."

"Yeah, you should have, but...never mind that. You were agitated and with good reason. Incidentally, I have written to Gabby and asked if she could send a poster or something. All I ask is that you hang it somewhere where I can't see it. I don't like to see my friends in those kinds of...positions..."

"Understandable, Sir."

Leo smiled and removed his cap, before running a paw through his hair. "What I wanted to ask, Twain...has to do with equines in general. Y'see, apart from you, I only know Gabby, and I've come across a mustang serving drinks at a nightclub where I live. That's it. You're not that many, are you?"

Corporal Twain shook his head and shrugged. "Nope. As far as I know, there are only three kinds of us out there. Percherons, like myself..."

"I kinda guessed...given your anti-authoritarian streak."

"Thank you, Sir, I take that as a compliment. Anyway...Percherons, like myself, Broncos...or Mustangs if you would...same deal really...and Arabians. God knows why, but we were the only ones who got lucky when it came to brains and opposable thumbs."

Leo nodded. He'd heard something similar before but he had never asked Gabby. He didn't really know why. It had just...never seemed important. He looked sidelong at the equine again. Corporal Twain was a huge fur, even by equine standards. He'd stand easily half a head taller than most wolves and that was saying something. His arms were as thick as most fur's thighs and it was all muscle. A model soldier, physically speaking.

The corporal kept talking though, looking like he was trying to recall something he'd learned a good long time ago. "I know there were more equines once. I mean, look at the canids? There are so many different kinds out there it's unbelievable. And you felines too...'e Gods, Lieutenant..." he chuckled. "There were more of us...but all but those three lines have died out by now."

Leo nodded. He knew about that kind of thing. Like some species in nature could be wiped from the face of the planet, so could entire lines of furs.

"I think I heard once that you were numerous in the middle ages. Until the black death. That took a particularly hard toll on the equine population of Europe for some reason," Leo said, sadly. "How come those three lines survived then?"

Corporal Twain looked like he didn't quite know how to go about answering the question delicately, and he scratched his neck with a crooked grin on his face. "Weeeell...y'see, Sir, it's got something to do with the femmes. Apparently, the femmes of the lines that remain are...ahem...very fertile, Sir. But that's also why you'll see very few mixed-species couples including an equine. Most of us are brought up with the knowledge that we've got a responsibility to make sure we don't vanish completely. Of course, mixed-species relationships still happen. Not that it bothers me in particular, Sir..."

"Heh...that does explain why Gabby's parents were such rotten scumbags about the whole thing..." Leo mumbled.

"Excuse me, Sir?"

"Oh, nothing. Ancient history...something that happened just before I met Gabrielle."

Corporal Twain grinned again. "Heh...what's she like, privately? I mean...you know her. I don't know any celebrities, Sir...certainly not pornstars."

Leo chuckled. "Oh, she's a pawful or two..."

"I'd say so," the equine next to him grinned and made a suggestive move with his paws as if grabbing the bosom of a femme in front of him.

Leo blinked...then laughed. "That wasn't EXACTLY what I meant, Corporal. She's got enough attitude for the entire state of Ohio is what I meant."

"Lucky male that lands her, then..." Corporal Twain mused. "I like femmes with attitude."

Again, the lion laughed softly. "Ah well...Gabrielle is well spoken for, by one of her colleagues."

Corporal Twain snapped his fingers and smiled. "Damned...here I was, getting my hopes up."

"No point, Corporal...her girlfriend would probably chew your kneecaps off if you tried anything," Leo pointed out and brushed his paws off against one another. He could really do with a straw to chew. It seemed like the right kind of moment for it.

The statement hung in the air for a long time. Clearly, Corporal Twain was digesting it. At least he looked like he'd been hit by a two-by-four.

"You're telling me she plays for the OTHER team??"

"According to Gabby herself, who happens to be extremely outspoken about such things, she plays for the entire NFL, Corporal."

Another moment went by. Then the equine nodded, sagely. "Good for her then. None of my business, as long as she's happy. Hell, could've fooled me though...she's not a bad actress then."

Leo grinned and shrugged. He wasn't entirely sure how the conversation had turned onto this track but he decided to try to get it back to something a little more decent once again.

"Twain isn't a French name, Corporal. I thought Percherons were French..." he said.

"Ahh, yeah..." the equine said and nodded. "That confuses a lot of furs. When my great-great-great grandfather...or something along those lines...came to America from France, he thought it was better to fit in, than to have some name from faaaar away. So if you look in the archives at Ellis Island, you won't find him under the name Twain. He tried to make a living in New York for a number of years, but he wanted land of his own, so eventually he moved west, to Dakota Territory. He had a book in his pocket, for reading on the way, I guess. Brand new copy of Mark Twain's 'A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's court'. He took his name from the author. He spoke English perfectly by then...hardly any accent. When he got there, he learned that Dakota Territory wasn't Dakota Territory anymore, but North and South Dakota...and he had to get registered as a citizen of either state. He ended up settling in ND, under the name of Julian Twain."

Leo listened carefully. He smiled, eventually. "Y'know, my girlfriend would like you, Corporal. She's a historian. She likes furs who know their own history."

"I'd be glad to meet her one day, Sir," Corporal Twain answered, honestly.

"Who knows. Maybe you will," Leo said and got to his feet. "I'd better get on with things. I have an early morning patrol tomorrow. O-five-hundred...going out there to see what it's like, for myself."

"Heh...lucky you, Sir," the equine chuckled, irony dripping off his words.

Leo smiled and turned, heading towards the office of Captain Cervus.

###

Jean looked like she could use another few days of sleep. She felt like she could, as well. If she had her way, she'd fall flat on her face in bed when she got home, and sleep for a week straight. Esteban would probably not approve, though.

Her classes were progressing according to schedule. The day before, she had given the students their first home assignments. She'd be grading papers in a week. It wasn't official. It was voluntary work, but, as she had told them, it was the same kind of assignment they would face for their finals. No harm in preparing, the way she saw it. What was wearing her out though, was the steadily increasing pressure from the protesters. Father Rufus had promised to help, but Jean didn't really believe he could stop it all on his own. For one thing, not all the protesters were Catholic. Why would the rest of them listen to him, especially when some, for instance the Methodist preacher on campus, were backing the whole affair a hundred percent.

The whole mess was starting to wear on her nerves. To her own relief, however, it wasn't making her tired of teaching. It was making her angry. That, at least, was better. Anger meant stubbornness and stubbornness meant she wouldn't back down. Why should she? She had as much right to teach as anyone else.

Yesterday, one of the protesters had shouted at her that she was infecting the other students. Another had sneered that gay people just tried to make everyone else gay too. That last fur had at least made Jean laugh out loud. The statement was so enormous in it's stupidity that she couldn't even bring herself to explain to that fur that she wasn't gay. What would've been the point anyway? They weren't interested in a debate anyway.

She looked at the front doors, and took a deep breath. It was time to go home and while she knew she'd run the gauntlet by even setting foot outside, she would do so with her head held high.

"This is harassment," a voice said next to her. She didn't recognize it.

"Yeah," another one answered. "Good grief, let the femme teach. If she's qualified she's qualified..."

Jean turned her head and saw a couple of felines walking down the stairs. They looked like a couple. At least they were holding paws. The male shrugged and sighed. "This is University. We should be the best and the brightest," he muttered. "Makes me ashamed of studying here..."

The female looked about to answer, when she spotted Jean. Instead of answering her boyfriend, she nodded to the vixen and smiled. "Don't let them win, Miss. Your students say you're a good teacher and that's all that matters."

"Thank you," Jean replied, politely. "I appreciate it."

The male feline nodded. "Did you consider calling in the press on this?" he asked.

"The press? What good would that do me? This is the mid west...there are a lot of furs out there who think those like me shouldn't be allowed to breathe the same air as the rest of the population. And I really just want anonymity. I don't want to be a celebrity..." Jean said, sighing. She had considered it, but had pushed it aside since she knew she risked spreading a localized, campus protest to the rest of the city.

The female shook her head. "I don't think you understand, Miss. If you don't go to the press, they will. And if they get to tell their story first, they get to dictate the terms of the debate. Believe me...I happen to be majoring in media."

Jean swallowed. She hadn't considered that part yet. "I see," she said, quietly. "I guess I have no choice then."

The male feline smiled crookedly. "Hey, wait a second. What if you didn't go to the press and they didn't...but someone else did first? Then it's not you whining to the public, and it's not them throwing garbage around. Eventually, they'd have to ask both sides of the story, that way...and you could tell your story. How you came to teach here, and who you really are. You get to defend yourself with dignity that way."

Jean blinked. That was it! That was the way to go about this. "You're right!" she said. "Thank you."

She was halfway out the front door when the voice of the male called out behind her.

"YOU'RE WELCOME MISS!"

###

It wasn't getting dark. It already was. Almost completely so, in fact. Gabrielle was sitting on a folding chair, legs crossed and yawning with intense boredom. In the background, Esteban was swearing up a storm. Fortunately for everyone around him, he mostly kept it in Spanish, and he was speaking so rapidly that he clipped half words at times. No one but himself understood a word he was saying, but everyone understood the meaning, clearly.

"MARVEEN! THEES FEELTHY PIECE OF CACA STEELL EESN'T WORKEENG!" the maned wolf roared. His mane was all but standing on end from rage, and his lips were curled back to show long, sharp incisors. It gave him a wild, highly dangerous look. Obviously, this wasn't simply annoyance. This was real anger.

Gabrielle looked up and in the direction Esteban was shouting. Marvin threw up his paws and went back to work on what looked like a group of large batteries.

Esteban raised a threatening finger at his camera. "¿Que chingandos quieres, you no good maleton camera abadesa?" he sneered and looked like he was about to kick it.

"HEY...LOBO...TRY THIS!" Marvin called back and looked up from the batteries.

Esteban looked dubious for a moment, then tried turning on the camera. At first, he was smiling as various lights came on in the camera. Apparently, it seemed to work. He looked up, giving Marvin a thumbs up...only to rapidly retract it and scrunch up his face in a grimace of rage.

"¡¡Estoy hasta LA MADRE!!" he shouted and jumped back from the camera, almost as if it was some hostile thing about to attack him. He pointed his accusatory finger at the camera again, shaking with frustration. "¡ANDA LA PUTA QUE TE PARI!" he then roared and kicked the base of the camera in anger.

Gabrielle just smiled and shook her head at the sight of Esteban hopping around on one foot, whimpering. She recrossed her legs the other way around and looked at the chair next to her.

"Do you think we'll get any shooting done tonight, Mia?" she asked.

The red panda next to her yawned a little and shrugged. "Who knows. It's not Esteban's fault...nor Marvin's, really. There's trouble with those batteries every time we go outside. Ever since Esteban got that new toy of his..." she said and pointed to the high-tech camera "...we've had that problem. They usually fix it in the end..."

Gabrielle nodded. "That's true. Where's Alexi anyway?"

"Trying to calm down that new actor. It's his first time in front of a camera for real. He's a bit nervous."

"What for? It's just sex."

Mia grinned and shrugged. "Spoken like a veteran, Gabby. Ahh look, there they are."

She pointed down a gravel path and smiled. Alexi, the studio's Siberian Husky and heir to Esteban's position as 'Heart breaker Extraordinaire' came towards them, followed by a well muscled and graceful Bengal tiger. His step was relaxed and calm, but his tail-tip, twitching left and right behind him, betrayed his nervousness.

"Heeey...fresh flesh," Gabrielle said, teasingly, nudging Mia with an elbow. She was quite certain the tiger could hear her.

The tail twitching increased somewhat.

Mia laughed warmly. "Hey, behave Gabby! Be good."

"Aww...no sugar-lump for the filly?"

"Only if you're nice to the new guy."

"Meanie! Alright, I'll be REALLY good to him. Can I have two sugar-lumps then?"

"I'll consider it."

"Oh goody!"

Alexi followed the exchange with a growing smile on his face. Somehow, he had expected something like that. Eventually, he cleared his throat and tried to get the attention of the two femmes.

"Yeeees?" Mia asked, batting her lashes.

The husky laughed and shook his head. "Stop trying to look innocent, Mia. It doesn't work."

"I'm better at it than Gabby!" Mia protested, batting her lashes again.

"That's because Gabrielle singes the eardrums of any listeners by even speaking the word 'innocent'. Anyway, let me introduce you to our newest male cast member. I know neither of you met him before since Tamara and Sapporo helped with his test-filming. So...please, meet Sean. Sean, the bombshell in front of you is Mia, and the vision of loveliness next to her is Gabrielle. We call her Gabby for short..."

Sean extended a paw, smiling warmly. A set of sharp, pristine white teeth lit up his striped, handsome face. Mia raised an eyebrow and took the paw, shaking it. Every move the newcomer made was typical of large, predatory felines. Smooth...almost silken.

"Bohunk alert!" she chuckled, glancing sideways at Gabrielle.

"Definitely. You can have him though, I'll stick with Yohni," the equine winked, before taking Sean's paw and shaking it, when offered. "Pleased to meet you."

Sean was about to speak up when a shriek of triumph broke the conversation.

"EET WORKS!!"

Esteban, still limping, looked incredibly happy with himself as he pointed to the camera.

Marvin came out from amongst the batteries and scratched his neck. "Well, my old mother always said that if something doesn't work, kick it. Then if it still doesn't work, call a repair-fur. I guess we stick with the kicking. I'll talk to Zig Zag about this, when she comes back. We really need a better transportable power supply for this baby."

Looking smug as a kaht with a full bowl of cream, Esteban sat down on the chair on the camera, swinging it left and right. "I'll test thees one more time, then we're readee."

Marvin nodded and turned to the actors and actresses. "Hey...we're about to start. Get ready."

Then he sat down in the director's chair and leaned back. He had his skull-and-crossbones mug standing next to him on a small table, alongside an industrial sized thermos, presumably filled with a liquid that Marvin would call coffee...and everyone else would call bloody dangerous.

Sean smiled crookedly. Gabrielle noticed he had the kind of face that went well with smiling. As soon as he quirked the corner of a mouth, his whole face lit up. The tiger looked back to the femmes in front of him.

"Dreadfully sorry about that, ladies. I think we were all interrupted," he said in a thick British accent.

"God...pinch me and tell me I'm not dreaming," Mia fawned and pretended to faint. "Alexi, you've got some real competition there!"

Alexi laughed again as the femmes got to their feet and hooves. "Oh, but he doesn't have my boyishly cute eyes and fantastically soft fur," he said and flicked his hair back theatrically, striking a super-masculine pose with his paws on his sides.

Gabrielle covered her eyes and groaned. "Good grief...someone call the nearest dairy plant and tell them we've found all the cheese that was stolen last night. In fact, I don't care if nothing was stolen...tell them to come and get their cheese anyway!"

"Oh, I don't know, I was thinking of calling someone in the meat-business about the gigantic ham that suddenly materialized in front of us," Mia chuckled.

Alexi just deflated and muttered something about femmes with attitudes, before heading towards the camera.

Sean smiled a little. He was clearly relaxing. His tail had stopped twitching. "Weren't you a little hard on him, ladies?" he asked. "I mean, he's a better-looking chap than me, for certain."

"He doesn't have your accent though," Mia grinned and jabbed a thumb at Gabrielle. "As long as she's in the vicinity, this is how we tend to talk to one another. The only safe fur around here is Zig Zag herself. Gabby doesn't make fun of the Boss."

"...much."

"Alright, maybe a little good-natured jest now and then, Gabby. I know, you have a reputation to maintain."

"Thank you."

The tiger chuckled and smiled, heading for the camera as well.

###

Malcolm sat down at the edge of the stage, dangling his hooves. The troupe was rehearsing a new ballet, and his legs were hurting. They always did after a long day's rehearsals. New combinations that he wasn't used to yet always made him ache. By the time he got used to it, it was time to perform the ballet before an audience. That was how it went. It was painful but gratifying.

He pulled up his right leg and rubbed his ankle, smiling a little. He'd gotten very good reviews and he had certainly made a name for himself. There had even been a nice letter of congratulation from the furs at the New York City Ballet. While he didn't dance for them anymore, and hadn't for quite a long time, it was a matter of pride that they acknowledged his work.

Rita sat down next to him and held out a bottle of mineral water.

The stallion took it, gratefully, and nearly emptied it in one long gulp. He was very thirsty. Not only was it hard physical work to dance like he did, but the lights coming down on the stage made the heat up there invasive. He couldn't even show that he was uncomfortable.

"Even if the critics hadn't loved you, Malcolm...I would have," Rita said, smiling crookedly. "We have some really talented dancers here, no doubt about it, but damned, you dance like your life depended on it. Every night."

Malcolm grinned and patted his Boss's shoulder. "Well, sorry but I'm spoken for," he teased, finishing the rest of the water.

Rita chuckled and nodded. "I know. I didn't mean it like that. But I reserve the right, as your employer, to think you're the best invention since watermelons!"

"Permission granted."

"Thank you."

The panther took a moment to relax. She closed her eyes and stretched her legs out, before letting them flop back down over the edge again. "All the world is a stage, and all the males and femmes merely players..." she mumbled.

"They have their exits and their entrances, and one male in his time plays many parts..." Malcolm continued, a crooked smile playing on his lips.

"I didn't know you read Shakespeare..." Rita said, thoughtfully.

Malcolm shrugged. "I enjoy his dramas more than his comedies, admittedly...and I don't like most of his sonnets, except the ones written in honor of 'That Fair Youth'...whomever it was."

"Somehow, I can't say I'm surprised you like those in particular," the panther chuckled. "So...what will you do now? You have great reviews. Any company would give you a chance now. You could even go back to the New York City Ballet. They'd have to give you lead parts now," Rita said, looking at the stallion next to her.

Malcolm shook his head and smiled. He looked...happy, Rita thought. Content was a better word.

"I belong here, Rita. It's not about the money. It's about doing what I love. When I get too old for this...when I can't perform this way anymore...I want to be able to look back and say I gave the world something, in my own little way. Not in someone else's big way. Could I do that at NYCB? I don't think so..."

Rita smiled and looked at the empty rows of seats. "You're right, of course. And I'm glad you told me this. You always seemed so private...I didn't want to ask or intrude on your privacy in any way."

"That's okay. It's just...you know, I didn't like sharing, because I didn't want to risk the rest of the company thinking badly of me."

"For what?"

"Rita, I'm gay, if you hadn't noticed."

The panther chuckled. "Yeah, and you're a dancer. You're a walking cliché, Malcolm, but you're a fantastic cliché at least. Give the rest of us some credit. It's not like there is a single fur here who doesn't know by now. Do they treat you worse now than when you first arrived?"

Malcolm thought about that for a while. "No. They don't. I guess I've just been used to guarding my private life."

Rita got back up and nodded. "Well, I for one am glad you opened up. Anyway, we start rehearsals in two days. Take some time with your boyfriend in the meantime and relax. You earned it."

"Rita?"

"Yes?"

"I'll need some time off at some point. Some furs I know are getting married...in Ohio. I've been invited, but they haven't fixed a date quite yet."

"Just let me know a couple of weeks in advance and we'll find a way to cover for you. Maybe it'll be between shows, or something."

Again, Rita turned to leave. Malcolm remained sitting on the edge of the scene.

"Rita?"

"Yes Malcolm."

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"For being such a decent fur."

Rita smiled and headed backstage without another word.