Every inch of her body aches.
She comes in dripping water, her body shivering with the cold. The academy is not everything she dreamed it would be, and every day ends with failure and dejection. Perhaps her parents were right, Judy thinks, as she drags her soaked vest over her head. Perhaps rabbits can't actually be police officers, and no amount of stubborn determination will change that.
She wriggles out of her leggings and kicks her wet clothes aside. She sets the shower on full blast and hops back when it is cold water that she is met with. Sighing, she waits for the first tendrils of steam to rise before she steps back in, her ears drooping. She wonders if it is too late to quit.
Judy drags her towel along the mirror, clearing a strip through where the steam had fogged it. She takes an ear between her paws and begins to pat it dry. As she's watching her reflection, her eyes are drawn back to the three scars on her cheek. They've dimmed somewhat with age, are now white against her fur, rather than the dark pink they were for the first couple of years. She lets go of her ear and moves her paw to the scars instead, tracing along the lines.
I don't know when to quit, she thinks again, feeling a fresh wave of dedication.