When the reptile woke up, he was in a jail cell. It was his first time behind bars, but not his last. His breaths were quick and unsteady. Everything hurt, but he didn't know why. The croc stared in horror down at his trembling claws. Blood stained them a reddish color, though they appeared as though they'd been washed. "Wha- what?" He croaked. He didn't scratch anybody, did he?

Finally, he decided to observe his environment. It was the only way to calm down. The bloodrush pounded in his ears, making it impossible to hear anything, but he could still see. It was dark. Three walls were made of concrete. One was made of thick iron bars. He couldn't see anything but darkness beyond them.

There were no windows. No, wait, there was one. There was no glass. Only three thick bars, with only enough space between them to place one's forearm through. On trembly legs, he stood. It took more energy than expected. Why was he so drained?

The hybrid animal sluggishly made his way to the window. He stretched a claw outside. The only welcome he received was the chill of moonlight. In the light, he saw his arm. It was scratched, all the way up the arm. One part of it looked burned, as though set on fire. The scales were blackened. The only fortune he had was his thick skin. Even still, it hurt bad enough for him to crave a bath of ice. After further observation of his other arm, and the way his body felt, he figured there had been some tussle that somehow, he didn't remember. "What hap- happened to me?"

"You went feral, Mr. Salazar. That's what happened." An unfamiliar voice called from behind him. The croc whipped around. He almost tripped over himself. His heart pounded heavily. In front of the bars, now visible as a light had been turned on, was some sort of hound, and a young alpaca. The dog wore a uniform. The alpaca wore normal clothes and a little sticker for a badge. He looked younger than Tyrone. "Kid, this is what I was telling you about. This is why he can't be incarcerated for his crime. Feral carnivores have no memory of what happened, or control of it when it happens. So at the time of their feral-ness, it's been considered to be that they were clinically insane." The dog spoke, not looking at the new officer, but staring emotionlessly at the croc.

That alpaca kid had his sight fixed on Tyrone. A look that said 'I'll kill you, and nobody will know'. It wasn't the first time Tyrone had seen such a look on an herbivore, but it was the first he'd seen on one that was only half his size. "I'm sorry, did you say 'feral'? What is this, the dark ages?" Tyrone yelped, claws hanging over his mouth. "I'm sorry, I- officer, can you please tell me what I'm doing here?" He swallowed hard. His mouth was so dry.

"We're still doing research on the topic. It's not new, just... covered up a lot in media. Psychologists are identifying it to be different than an intentional murder." The hound reached into his jacket. Tyrone flinched, but saw the officer pull out something much smaller than a gun. He just couldn't make out what it was. "Ignore the kid. He's just angry that you took a chunk of his fur when we detained you." The hound held out a flashlight. He flicked it on.

After his eyes adjusted to the light, Tyrone looked down at himself. His shirt was torn, and various patched-up wounds covered his body. There were also holes burned into his shirt. "You'd be amazed at how much electricity it takes to knock out a large feral carnivore. Even more so, alligators. Your skin is so tough, it's like trying to kill an elephant with a beebee gun. You're much more resilient than most of the criminals we detain. And you're just a halfway-innocent kid."

Halfway-innocent? What did that mean? "Officer?" Tyrone approached with caution. The alpaca beside the hound placed a hoof on his taser, ready if need be. Tyrone towered over the dog, but this pack animal had no fear. Not with the frightened croc behind bars. "You were talking about psychology, an- and studies and stuff, but uh... how and when do I get out of here? What... what did I do wrong?" He knew that was a stupid question. He remembered, biting, someone?

"Right. Carnivores about to enter a feral state don't usually remember that part." The hound brought a pair of glasses out of his jacket. Tyrone's eyes grew wide. They were his. They were broken. They were bloodied. "Listen up. You bit someone. You bit someone who bullied you. I get that, I do. Heck, I did it a lot when I was teething in elementary," The cop growled. His fangs were bared.

"But it doesn't mean you're allowed to. You're going to be sittin' pretty here for a while, croc. You went feral, and that complicates a lot of things. They're still trying to figure out whether to try you as an adult or not. Your grandmother has been notified, and we learned pretty quickly about your parents. We're going to keep an eye on you, Mr. Salazar. It doesn't matter what cause you had to go after that giraffe, not in the legal system."

"You're just lucky that the judge just so happens to be a carnivore. And that your grandmother hired a carnivore lawyer, too. Because of your feral nature at the time of incident, they might get you down to assault and battery, instead o-"

"Instead of attempted murder." The alpaca interrupted. He reached up, and grabbed the bars. Tyrone didn't know what to do. Why was this alpaca even here? He was too young to even be a rookie.

"Get back, now. Don't mix up bravery and stupidity, kid. He's scared and he's been violent before. Just because your mother raised you here doesn't mean you get to interrogate the prisoners!" The dog barked, and the alpaca backed off. He hung his furry head, long ears drooping behind him. He mumbled something like 'yes sir'. There would surely be a heavier scolding later.

"Attempt- atte-attemped murde-r?" Tyrone squeaked. He didn't know his voice could go as high as it did. "Are you... are you serio-serious?" He considered the words of the officer, his explanation for everything. It made sense, on a deeper level.

"It looks like our friend here needs some time alone. Let's go, kid. He's not getting out any time soon." The dog ordered. Within moments, Tyrone was left alone again.

He sat against the wall. He felt the sting and burn of his wounds. But that wasn't the weird part. The weird part was that, inside, he didn't hurt. His grandmother knew. She would be scared for his life. He didn't dread meeting her right now. He didn't long to go home, either. He pictured that giraffe, instead. It would finally end. The bullying. The violence. It would be over. There was nobody who would fight someone who was on the police's watch list, and get themselves involved in a crime spree. Not just for attention. No, inside, Tyrone felt something he hadn't felt in a very, very long time. He felt peaceful. He felt satisfied. He felt... fulfilled.

With a smile, he closed his eyes, and whispered. "If that giraffe ever comes at me again... I'll rip the hide straight off his back."