PART THREE OF FIVE



It was a Sunday.

Field and Adelaide were having a party today. A race party.

For the Indianapolis 500 Mile Race. The Greatest Spectacle in Racing.

Audrey had been in the countryside for a full week, now, and ... this was her first social gathering with her rural neighbors. She was meeting many of them for the first time. The only one she really knew was Peregrine, and he was shyly avoiding her. Lingering near the tablecloth-covered card table (with all the bowls of chips and homemade foods on it).

They were holding this party outside. In the open area of the barn, and ... in the grass. In the shade of the sycamore in the lawn. Two separate radios were set up. One in the barn and one on the card table. Both of them broadcasting the race (which had yet to start with). They had a good half an hour before the green flag flew, but ...

... everyone had already gathered.

The sun was out. It was in the lower 80's. Good weather, this, for a race. And a lot better than the Pole Day weather a few weeks ago (but, then, the weather was ALWAYS miserable for Pole Day).

Audrey, a paper plate in one paw, began to drift around the food table.

"That's square corn," Adelaide said, nodding at the yellow dish. "Corn casserole."

"Ah ... thought it might be," Audrey replied, and spooned some onto her plate. Smiling. "You make that one, then?"

"Field did."

"Field? Your mate?"

"He likes to cook," she said.

The skunk nodded. "Well, everything looks great. All you furs are ... very kind," Audrey said, "to invite me."

Adelaide put some pretzels on her own plate. "Don't mention it." A smile. "I was gonna make a bug dish, but ... "

"A bug dish?"

"With insects. Bugs. Cause, you know, bats ... well, we eat bugs."

"I guess you do, don't you," Audrey realized.

"Uh-huh. I try to slip them into Field's food. He needs the protein. But he ALWAYS catches me doing it." A giggle. "His nose is too good. Better than mine. But ... sometimes, I slip them past his senses."

Audrey could only giggle. "Hmm ... well, you didn't slip any bugs into the corn casserole, did you?"

"No," said the pink-furred bat, shaking her head. "No, it's safe for non-bats." A toothy grin.

"You know," Audrey remarked, moving to another side of the table. Scooping some watermelon and cantaloupe balls onto her plate (which was getting to be rather full). "I've never actually met a bat."

"Well, we're rare. Only one point six percent of the furry population, so ... "

"What kind of bat are you? Like ... are there different kinds of bats? Like, I know there are different kinds of mice. Most of the mice around here seem to be field and deer mice."

"I'm an Indiana bat. Actual species. We're ... somewhat endangered, I guess you could say."

"Sorry to hear that," was Audrey's reply.

"It's okay. As long as there are still bats. But ... I don't know. I fell for a mouse." A pause. "Mice and bats are genetically close enough, you know ... we can reproduce."

"Oh?" The skunk raised her brow.

"Too young for that, though. Neither of us could handle it."

"Well, I'm sure you'll make a good mother someday. You seem to be very ... nurturing," Audrey said, smiling. Her plate now full.

Adelaide's plate was only half-filled. "It's in our nature," she said, of her own species. "Sometimes, a fault. Sometimes, we can be over-zealous in our ... protective instincts." A sheepish shrug. "I've been known to bare my fangs and ... pin a few furs to the wall," she confessed, "for simply looking at Field the wrong way. I don't know." A breath. "We each have our unique abilities and our unique ... flaws," she whispered. "In the end, it all evens out. We're all on equal footing."

Audrey nodded. "That's probably true," she whispered. Knowing that she, even with all her money and resources, and even being a skunk ... was no better (or better off) than all these rural furs (most of whom were mice and squirrels). But, then, she was no worse off, either. They were all alive, and ... " ... it's nice," Audrey said. "All of this. Thank you again," she told Adelaide.

"Well, again, you're welcome, and ... find a place to sit. Got straw bales set about to sit on. Overly rustic, maybe, but ... I don't have any lawn chairs, truth be told." A giggle. "So, it'll have to do. And the race will start soon."

"I've never really paid much attention to racing."

"Oh, you should. You're a Hoosier, aren't you?"

A nod.

"Well, it's in your blood. Your heritage. Something we all share, racing. Especially THIS race, so ... " The pink-furred bat looked around. And saw Peregrine sitting alone under the sycamore. "You might wanna go talk to him," she whispered.

"What?"

"Talk to Peregrine. He's lonely," Adelaide whispered, looking back to the bat.

"Alright."

"And he likes you, too, you know," Adelaide said.

Audrey blinked. "Well, how did you know I ... "

The bat tilted her head a bit. Squinted with a bit of an enigmatic smile. "Telepathic."

"Oh."

"Don't worry. I don't read thoughts. I just ... sense things. Emotions. Feelings. Attractions." A pause. "I can read thoughts, but ... that's a line I don't cross unless I'm invited." Her eyes darted to Field. The mouse. Her mate. "He's given me so many invitations they must be flowing out my ears. I'm gonna go be with him. Enjoy the party," Adelaide said, smiling, nodding, and padding off.

Audrey watched her go. And then looked around at some of the other furs.

There was Chester. And his mate Juneau. A mouse and a squirrel.

And there was Wren and his mate Rella. Both of them were squirrels.

And a few others that Audrey hadn't been introduced to yet. Didn't know their names. But the majority of furs here were mice. And then squirrels. There was a chipmunk. And Audrey was a bat. And she, of course, was a skunk, so ... and Aria was here, too. Audrey's staff had been invited. Aria, the rabbit, had come. And was chatting with a shy mouse. But, then, ALL mice were shy.

Most of the furs farmed. And, on top of that, worked part-time jobs in the nearest small town. Which was seven miles to the north-east. From talking with Adelaide, Audrey had found out that the bat had a part-time job at the library in town, for instance.

Audrey, standing in the sunlight, reached for a can of soda. Grabbing a vanilla-flavored cola. And she padded through the light and into the shade of the sycamore.

Peregrine looked up, his grey fur seeming more shadowed ... being that he was sitting in the shade.

"May I join you?" Audrey asked delicately.

Peregrine gave a shy smile and nodded. "Um ... sure," he said. They hadn't really talked or spent any time together since that storm last weekend. Not because neither had wanted to. But, maybe, they'd both been a little apprehensive. Or ... well, who knew. Regardless, there was a bit of a tension in the air between them. Not the bad kind. But the baited breath kind.

Audrey lowered to her knees. And set her plate and soda can down. Her angular ears cocked and hearing the other furs chattering. And hearing the sounds of the radio.

"I've been to the race before," Peregrine said. Poking at some steamed carrots.

"Yeah?"

A quiet nod.

"Well ... what's it like?"

"Well, it's hard to say, really, if ... you've never been," was the mouse's response. He chew-chewed on a piece of carrot.

"Oh." Audrey picked up her soda. And after a small pause, she opened it. With that familiar click-fizz sound. And she took a tiny sip. "Well, I was telling Adelaide that I don't know much about racing. Maybe you could teach me."

A shy smile. The mouse looking to the grass. "Nothing much to teach, really. It's ... just watch and listen, and you'll pick it up fairly quickly, I'm sure. Just like any other sport." A pause. "Not that auto racing is LIKE any other sport. I'm just saying that ... if you can follow one sport, you can follow ... " He went quiet. What was he trying to say again? Shut up, Perry. Shut up.

The skunk nodded. Taking another sip of her drink. And setting it down between her thighs (so it wouldn't topple over and spill).

"I'm glad that the weather's good today," the grey-furred mouse commented.

"Mm." Audrey nodded and swallowed some of the corn casserole. "It's beautiful. Yeah." She closed her eyes and breathed deeply through the nose. And opened her eyes and gave the mouse a warm, happy smile.

It was contagious. For he smiled back, unable to help himself.

"You have dimples," she realized, nodding slightly. Smiling. "Mm ... that's cute, you know? I mean, if you don't mind me saying ... "

Peregrine put a paw to his own cheek, in a self-conscious manner. "Um ... "

"Why are you sitting here all alone?" Audrey asked.

The mouse lowered his paw from his cheek. Back to his fork. "I'm not alone," he said quietly, staring at his food.

"Well, before I came over, I mean ... you were by yourself. In the shade here."

"I just never know what to say."

"Well, Peregrine, most prey are ... shy, you know. I mean, most of the rest of the furs here are mice and such. So ... "

"I know, but ... the way they look at me," he whispered.

"What do you mean?" she asked. Confused.

"They feel sorry for me."

The skunk was quiet.

"Cause of how I lost ... " He hesitated. "Cause of how I lost Bell-Bell ... and all. And I don't know." He poked at an unsugared, sliced strawberry. And brought it to his muzzle. "They all tried to help me after, and I ... shut them out. It's not the same," Peregrine whispered. And he put the strawberry in his mouth. And chew-chewed.

Audrey took another sip of her soda, her paw-pad wet from the condensation on the aluminum can. "They all seem to like you. They all seem to care about you."

"They do," Peregrine whispered. And he closed his eyes. "But I don't deserve it," he whispered.

"That's not true," Audrey whispered back.

The mouse opened his eyes. Briefly looked to her. And then looked away. "They're getting ready to sing Back Home Again."

"What?"

"On the radio. At the track. The race," he reminded.

"Oh."

"Should go into the barn so we can hear the radio better. The one out here," he said, nodding to the radio on the card table, "is in the sun, and the breeze carries the sound in the opposite direction from where we are."

Audrey nodded quietly. "Alright."

The mouse got up, and ... hesitated. And then extended a paw to her.

She smiled gently and took it.

He helped her up, and then twitched a bit, and took his plate and soda can and scurry-walked back to the others.

Audrey lingered beneath the branches of the sycamore. Lingered in the shade. And then took her own can and plate and followed him.

And she wasn't wearing a watch, so she had no idea what time it was, but it couldn't have been that much after noon. And she felt this lazy, sunny tug at her heart. The kind of pull that slowed a soul. And she took a deep breath.

Were all race days like this?

She guessed, in the back of her mind, that, yes, they were.