Pilot's paws twisted in the air, bracing her for a landing on the hard concrete below. Shock riddled her limbs, causing her to quake from nose to tail. She stood, stunned, in the shadow of the bridge for a moment before a flash of light warned her off of the road.

Not far enough to kill a cat, she thought, shaking a numbing sensation out of her feet. Barely enough to injure. A car could have done the job easily.

Her instincts told her that something didn't feel right, but duty meant that she would need to be thorough. She searched the ditches and the painted sides of the road for a stretch of several blocks The scent of death was nowhere to be found, except in the case of a poor rat who had the misfortune of becoming acquainted with a fast-moving tire.

If he's not here, then where? Pilot's examination of the area continued to spiral outward. Ah. There.

Three driveways up the block was a squat building with shutters and fences. Menfolk took their vehicles to this garage when their vehicles were damaged, or needed special attention. If there was a recent collision, there was a good chance that the shop would get first pickings at the wounded cars.

A spectacle like that would attract witnesses. Someone could have seen Rue leaving the scene.

It was a long shot, but it was her best shot of escaping the river of half-truths and demands. She ducked beneath the cars, knowing that the rows would not suddenly spring to life on their own. Behind an iron fence, rimmed with rusty barbed wire, a trio of street lights crackled and whined. Moths swarmed around the bulbs like small black flurries of snow.

Pilot squeezed through a gap in the pikes and set foot in the back. Several more vehicles were lined up in various stages of repair. She took a step towards one when she felt her hackles lift and stopped mid-step.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't rip your throat out."

The growl and the clumsy, thick-tongued voice could have only belonged to a dog.

Caught in a slant of light, Pilot's shadow flickered around her body like a flame. She curled her tail upwards and studied the canine.

The dog's black and brown pelt was sleek and shone even in the dark. His barrel chest raised with calm breath underneath a red-white-and-blue bandanna. Though his teeth were bared, if he'd intended to attack her, he would have done it by now.

Doberman. Putting aside your less-than-stellar opinion of dogs, he seems reasonable. Be respectful, and he just might be willing to help.

"I was hoping you could help me," she said. "I can go back behind the fence if you'd like."

The guard dog snorted and prowled across the yard. "No, I like you right where I can see you," he said. "You've got better manners than most of the fleabags around here, I'll give you that. What's your name?"

Pilot blinked at the dog. Despite her best intentions, it still took as much discipline as she could muster to sit down instead of spitting and fleeing. "Pilot."

"Hm. Human give you that name?"

"Once upon a time. I hunted rats in their airfield."

"I don't need your life story." The Doberman clicked his teeth. Despite his gruff reply, he seemed to find her former occupation agreeable enough. He sniffed at her once and decided that was enough. "My master calls me Bandit."

Don't point out the irony. You're not close enough to the Law yet to crack wise. "Charmed."

Bandit, so named, sat down and fixed his eyes on Pilot. "So what's a former ratter doing skulking around my yard? You wouldn't be connected to all those mad cats down the Row, I hope."

"Not willingly," said Pilot. "Have they been causing you trouble?"

"They wouldn't dare." Bandit narrowed his eyes. "But I can hear it every day. Uncivilized beasts, the lot of them."

"I'm looking for two cats," she said. "A gang bloke named Rue, and an orange tabby. Think they got involved in an accident a day or two ago. You know where they went?"

"What if I did?" asked Bandit. "What would you do with them?"

I know what I'd LIKE to do with them, Pilot thought to herself. The dog must have noticed the lash of her tail because he let out a dark little laugh. "I've been hired to find one. The other is… a problem I will deal with."

Bandit studied her for a while longer and then nodded. It seemed like he was in a cooperative mood that night. "I heard the commotion first. Think the whole Row did when those two started screaming. One goes down, and by the time I look up, the orange one's disappeared."

"Disappeared?" Pilot cut in.

"That's what I said." Bandit stifled a growl at being interrupted. "Traffic accident has a way of grabbing your attention, you know? Humans see this cat fall, they panic, and there's a pileup. Two of those trucks go right to this garage the same day."

He nodded to a blue pickup in the line. "That fleabag… Rue, you said? Got real lucky. Driver of that one picked him up, probably took him to get help. He's a mess, but he'll probably live."

Try not to sound too disappointed, thought Pilot. She looked up at the pickup and narrowed her eyes. "So the driver of this truck might have him."

"You didn't hear it from me. My master works quick. This thing should be ready for pickup tomorrow. Last I'll hear of it if I'm lucky."

So all I have to do is follow you home… tricky, but I can make it work.

"What made you decide to help me?" she asked.

Bandit licked his jowls. "Us consummate professionals have to look out for one another. And besides, I get the feeling you'll be returning the favor sooner or later."

That's his game. Should have known better than to think the dogs were beneath the trials of Twin Rivers… if I'm lucky, he'll be worth the trouble.

"Well then, I'd better get back to work," she said.

"Mm. Goodnight, Pilot," said Bandit. The dog watched, unmoving from his place until she completely exited the yard. Only then did he walk calmly back towards the garage. She heard the sound of a flap creaking under his weight, and he was gone.

She sat down in the grass and gathered her thoughts. Saffron's disappearance was vexing. If he had gone back to town, surely someone would have seen him by now. And if he'd gone to the forest colonies, Orchid wouldn't have been looking for him in the first place. His scent was still stubbornly elusive.

You're just going to try to forget about what happened on the bridge?

No. It's just stress. Rue must have seen where he went. Find Rue, and you can find the trail again.

And if it leads somewhere unpleasant?

We'll just deal with that when it comes to it.

* * *

Tracing vehicles was no easy feat for a cat, but a small town could make it easier so long as the queen in question knew her way around. Menfolk piloted their cars and trucks at breathtaking speeds, but they could not move wherever they pleased, bound by the cleared stretches of concrete and gravel.

If you had a good view and a good sense of how the city flowed, one could trace a car miles while traveling a fraction of the distance.

Pilot followed on the rooftops and the fences that guided the roads, cutting between blocks and racing across intersections. The rising sun rippled up her pelt as it carried into the sky and reflections of deep blue rippled up her fur. She was sweltering with exertion and happy to jab her paws back into the shadows once the truck had reached its destination.

A two-story house, its old paint covered with a fresh base coat in preparation for a new color, stood against the brightening blue sky. Pilot found neither sight nor scent of either one of her missing toms.

He was injured, she recalled. Probably still recovering from his visit to the healer. Stands to reason the menfolk would keep him inside.

Once she heard the front door shut, she searched the windowsill around the home until she came across one overlooking the den. The lights were out, but the window was open to a screen so that fresh air flowed inside. A tawny cat stared up at her from the middle of a sofa cushion, bathing in the sunlight. He turned and she could see the bandages still wrapped around his hind leg, and the plastic cone around his head like a silly impression of a flower's petals.

"Screw off," The tom, presumably Rue, growled. "You're blocking my sun."

"It would seem that rumors of your demise have been greatly exaggerated." Pilot shifted to the side, letting a beam of light lay over Rue like a stripe down his middle.

"Eh?"

"Chestnut's telling the whole gang you're dead."

"Oh." Rue's eyes cast down for a moment. Pilot knew that he was chewing the idea of letting the rumor stand. Then he dug his teeth at the inside of the cone and hissed. "That idiot. Soon as I get out of here, I'll show him what a lively one I am."

"I'm sure you will." Pilot flicked the tip of her tail. Finding Rue meant getting the gang off of Saffron's back, but then she was just back to square one. If she wanted to make any progress, she needed him to talk.

He was good enough at that. Getting the right words would be a little trickier.

"Lively," she said. "That includes picking fights with random housecats?"

Rue raised his hackles and glared at Pilot. "I didn't pick any fight! That orange blockhead trespassed into our territory. I was just showing him what's what."

Pilot blinked. Hadn't the scent markers for the gang's territory been upwind? "That bridge is outside the Row," she said. "And your boss follows our code. No one can claim a river crossing as territory."

Rue turned his head so that his cone blocked Pilot's view. "That so?"

"I think you were interested in what the cat was carrying, and when he wouldn't give it up, you tried to 'convince' him." Pilot narrowed her eyes at the back of Rue's head. "You haven't sent word back to your Second because you're hoping he'll overlook your personal flavor of 'initiative.'"

The tawny tom flinched. He turned back to glare at Pilot with one eye. "So what?"

"So I'll be happy to leave that little part out of my search. All you have to do is tell me where he went."

Rue's tail twitched. He played it cool all the way through, but the nervous tick had broken through his facade.

"How about this," he said. "I tell you what I know, and you go away?"

He'd cracked. Pilot didn't care two wits about his ego, but she had nothing to prove by dragging it out.

"Sure," she said. "If I'm satisfied with your answer."

"Ugh, fine," said Rue. He stretched his forepaws out and studied the darkness in the fireplace across the room. "Like you said, I wanted to get a good look at this stone he was carrying, but he wouldn't let me. While we're fighting over it, the bridge goes all weird… I get real dizzy, start seeing things upside down. Start seeing things my mom warned me about… little things in the corner of your eye. Things to keep you in your nest when she doesn't want to go chasing you across the neighborhood."

Rue sighed and shook his head. "If you saw what I saw, you'd be scared to death. It gave me a good start, too, and the rest." He clapped one paw against the other. "Is history. Don't know where your Saffron went, but he didn't fall with me."

Pilot exhaled and kneaded her paws against the sill. It was still real. It was her world. She wasn't about to share her nightmare with the delinquent, but she understood his pain too well. "Are you sure you didn't see anything else?"

"I told you, I didn't see where he went," Rue insisted. "He dropped the stone, though. I hope that thing went right in the river. If it had anything to do with… brr… then it shouldn't see the light of day again."

Pilot flattened her ears. If the rock had powers to reach into other worlds, then it was too dangerous to leave around. She remembered The Collector's request – it must be returned. More than a side errand, the stone's appearance could signal more danger than the missing tom.

"Make sure the Second knows that you're alive," she said.

"Eah, get out of here," Rue said, swatting a paw towards the window. His heart wasn't in the words, but Pilot did not have time to linger either way.

She returned to the crossing. With the afternoon rush of traffic, the shadows stretched across the pavement to the thinness of a cat's tail before she was willing to cross.

Pilot felt it before she even saw it. A black stone shimmered beneath a bundle of grass. The glow of its presence stated, rather firmly, that it was not of this place. Its ethereal grumble continued as she wrapped her jaws around it, comically wide, and lifted it from where it had fallen.

Now there was only the matter of Saffron. There are two possibilities, she thought. If he's not on the other side of the wall, then he has to be in the forest.

Like it or not, she would have to pay a visit to the queen of the wildcats.