Thorn saunters down the cracked pavement of her neighborhood, her green Jordan high heels clicking rhythmically against the ground. Her puffy woolen afro bounces with every step, the single curl over her right eye swaying slightly. She's carrying a couple of grocery bags in one hand, her freshly painted nails—black hooves at the tips—gripping the handles with ease. The other hand rests on her hip, her long, wool-covered forelimbs contrasting against her tan skin.

Her cropped tank top clings to her JJ-cups, while her green jacket hangs loosely over her shoulders, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her jean overall shorts leave little to the imagination, the back fully open with a belt strap that barely contains her shelf-like ass, jiggling with every step. Her short paintbrush tail flicks lazily behind her, the fluffy tip swaying like a tease.

She's just come from Dale's market, where she'd spent the last hour spray painting a new mural on the side of his building—a vibrant, rebellious piece of art that perfectly captures her personality. Dale, her jittery rabbit friend and occasional fling, had tried to flirt with her while she worked, but she'd shut him down with a sassy remark and a wink, leaving him red-faced and stammering.

As she reaches her driveway, she notices a newcomer across the street—someone she hasn't seen before. Their new house is still filled with moving boxes, and they're clearly in the middle of unpacking. Thorn's golden eyes light up with interest, her smirk growing wider as she sizes them up. She's always loved a fresh challenge, and this one seems ripe for the picking. She drops her grocery bag onto the driveway with a loud thud, exaggerating a sigh as she stretches her arms above her head, her jacket slipping further down her shoulders to reveal more of her cleavage.