Turkki and Teacup would always remember the day they fled the farmhouse, because it was the longest day of the year. Having decided to quit their jobs as pet ferrets, there were certain things the sisters nevertheless resolved to keep in place, and sticking to a crepuscular schedule was one of them. So when they overslept and missed their dawn window, they had fifteen long hours to wait until dusk. Teacup napped the time away, but Turkki used it to mentally rehearse the getaway.
It should be simple enough. When the boy came to top up their kibble, they’d war dance extra hard to show excitement. The boy would then let them out of the enclosure, so they could stretch their hindlimbs and burn off some energy. They’d play as usual, casually moving closer and closer to the Portal. Turkki would keep an eye out for the dog (who could come and go through the Portal at will), and Teacup would be on watch for the boy to look up from his black beepyflash toy (which was highly unlikely to happen). All they needed was a few seconds of distraction, and they could dash through the Portal and escape to Outside.
That is, if that’s where the Portal actually led to. Having never gone through it, they couldn’t be entirely sure. They were just following the instincts that had been awoken by the exciting outdoors smells the dog brought inside each day. When Turkki and Teacup sniffed his undercoat, they detected geosmin and ozone, and even the pheromones of other burrowing animals. They could almost taste the minerals in the sandy Wyoming soil that settled into his paw pads. It intoxicated them. It called to them. And it had convinced them to give up their cushy lives as kept creatures and chase new dreams—even if they didn’t yet know what those dreams were.
These were the thoughts on Turkki’s mind when she finally dozed off. It seemed like only moments later that the steel bars of the cage were rattling; the boy was refilling their food dish. Turkki kicked Teacup. “Wake up,” she whispered. “Go time.”
The sisters bounced into action, arching their backs and hopping frenetically to and fro. They twisted and tumbled, sending their fleece beds flying, and splashing the water from their bowls. The boy quickly unlatched the door, and the sisters exchanged a meaningful look as they carried their antics out of the cage and into the front room of the farmhouse. Turkki glanced at the Portal, but she could see no signs of the dog. She scampered and skipped, inching closer to the smooth plastic flap. Until this moment, she’d never thought about the weight of the flap. Would they be able to lift it with their tiny bodies? They’d have to charge through side by side to have the best chance.
Teacup, meanwhile, was dancing and dooking softly, trying not to draw the attention of the boy (who had already plopped onto the couch with his beepyflash). She kept her eyes on him as she jumped backwards towards her sister, who was now just bouncing in place. But the boy was fully absorbed in his toy. It was now or never.
Just then, a shiny black nose came poking through the Portal, followed by a set of velvety jowls, two droopy ears, and a pair of inquisitive canine eyes. As was his custom, the dog was first checking to see if anything interesting was happening in the farmhouse before committing to coming inside. His head raised the plastic flap, leaving just enough space for two ferrets to slip through, which is exactly what they did, when the idea struck them both at the same time—which is a thing that can happen when you’re lucky enough to have a twin sister.
In a flash, the ferrets were gone, pets no more. The dog reared back out of the Portal and spun around, barking. But assuming they were just off to explore (as he himself did all day), he didn’t trouble himself too much about them, and went inside to perform his nightly inspection of the kitchen trash.
Meanwhile, Turkki and Teacup bounded across the prairie, hearts pounding, as their every sense came bursting to life with an intensity known only to newly free animals. The setting sun cast long shadows that ran close behind them, but the sisters looked only ahead.
- - -
“Lindy! Lucas! Snack time!”
Teacup set two strips of prairie dog jerky on the packed dirt floor of the burrow. The kits would come get the food when they were ready. At the moment, the pair were locked in a furry jumble of tooth and tail, deep in the kind of play session that War Dance Kitcare Center encouraged. After all, that had been another of the behaviors that she and Turkki had been determined to keep up, despite transitioning from tame to feral. It hadn’t always been easy to find the time. The daily pressures of hunting and the stress of staying safe Outside took their toll. But it was an important part of skill-building in a dangerous world, not to mention essential to bonding and socialization. Naturally it would be central to their curriculum.
Teacup marveled to think of all they’d accomplished in just two months. The kitcare center had been entirely Turkki’s idea. It was her sister who quickly identified the need for one to support the jills of the local black-footed population. She’d worked tirelessly to lay the undergroundwork, spending countless sunrises and sunsets introducing herself to everyone she met in the prairie’s vast tunnel system. That had been perhaps the biggest culture shock of all: the degree to which wild ferrets were solitary, even in kitrearing.
“Teacup,” she’d said, her eyes shining with entrepreneurial vision. “Their lives would be so much easier if they had someone to watch the kits while they hunt. We could teach basic skills like digging and stashing—oh, and shivering!” Teacup had been all in, of course, and had done everything she could to help launch the venture. It was Teacup who’d found the vacant burrow and done much of the work to convert it to a kit-friendly space. And it was Teacup who acted as main caretaker to Lindy and Lucas—as yet the center’s first and only students—while Turkki continued to drum up new clients.
Speaking of Lindy and Lucas, they had finally worn one another out and had moved on to snacking. As usual, Lindy’s excitement could not be contained, and she burst into a series of nonsensical squeaks that continued between bites. The little white kit was a handful, and Teacup had loved her silly personality from the minute she’d first arrived at the burrow’s entrance.
“Tiki!” she’d shouted merrily, mispronouncing her new teacher’s name. “Perky!” she’d shrieked, rolling into a ball on the floor and giggling wildly. “Perky turkey-keyyyyyy!”
“I think she means you,” Teacup had nudged Turkki, trying not to laugh.
“Vocalization,” Turkki had said. “Put it on the lessons list.”
Lucas had been an entirely different story, though equally lovable in his own way. Like Lindy, he’d been deposited at the center by a harried-looking jill. The sisters had reassured her that her little one would be happy as a weasel at an easel in their care, and she could come collect him whenever she was ready. Lucas had looked none too sure himself, though, and had gone to the corner and curled up tighter and tighter, desperate to disappear, until he was barely the size of a pinecone.
But Teacup needn’t have worried, because Lindy was far too excited to have a playmate to let Lucas be alone for a single minute much less be unnecessarily afraid. It wasn’t long before the two were inseparable.
Teacup was watching the furry friends munch their meatsticks when she suddenly heard rustling in the tunnel outside. Expecting Turkki and no one else, she froze when the noise grew louder—it was more scuffling and shuffling than her sister alone would make. Multiple sets of paws? One big set? She was about to send the kits out the back entrance when she recognized Turkki’s voice.
A moment later, her sister’s happy face appeared. And she wasn’t alone. Peeking their noses in curiously were three jills and their litters—twelve kits in total. Teacup gasped. She locked eyes with her twin sister, as once again they shared a thought at the exact same moment: it was real now. Not just two kits but a whole school’s worth. Their hard work was paying off.
Turkki herded the group into the warm, tidy burrow. She knelt down and spoke softly to the tiny, wide-eyed kits. “Welcome to War Dance,” she said, and smiled up at their mothers. “Where fun is serious business.”