There was always plenty of work to be found in Rhubarb City. Sure, the streets were clean and the lawns clipped and green, but when night fell, a foray into the back alleys presented an array of pain and profit. Plenty of strays and runaways who had left who knows where and never looked back were in need of assistance, in need of a friendly hand in a seemingly friendly city. Plenty were still running and needed help to get farther away from whatever that thing was, and there were plenty of domestics who saw the life of the other half and decided to hell with a steady diet, they knew the grass was greener on the outside! They just needed some help leaving was all.
A red blur of fur darted through the darkness, tail full and white-tipped, paws black and eyes crafty, golden. There was still a place for a rogue, urban fox. Midas knew that well, plenty of work and mediating to be done for the strays and domestics. As he ran, her plea rang in his head:
“I want to find my brother, Couscous.”