Passersby, yes— there was still a flow of pedestrians through the area, but… there were no humans. Not a single one. Instead, the small district was filled entirely with cats. They leapt across small waterways, stalked across courtyards, strode down streets and manned shops and— it was a whole city of cats. He drank it all in, feeling light, heady and just, maybe a little, happy at seeing it all. It was a hopeful sight.

  He spent a long moment just wandering about, wondering how such a place could have come to be. It was not the whole of them, he knew— he’d seen enough to know that plenty of his kind were scattered all throughout the outer city— but it was a strange exclave of home in a foreign land…

  One stand caught his eye, and despite the urgency of his purpose, he found himself drawn there inextricably. “How did you get these here?” Rows and rows of a very familiar blue-limbed crawfish sat flayed open, the shell peeled back just like the elders had done for the kids of his old home…

  The cat manning the stall glanced up, giving him an oddly suspicious glance. “What’s it to you?” In their language— not the guttural thing that Avyr had learnt to speak and which had become all but natural to him. It’d been so long since he’d had to speak it that it took him by surprise, hearing it again.

  “I didn’t think you could get those here,” he responded in kind— “East Saffron doesn’t very well seem like the sort of place they’d grow, what with the weather how it is, you know?”

  The cat’s expression softened considerably, an easy smile making its way to their face— not too much different that what he’d have seen on any of the members of his old clan. “So you’re one of the real ones. Sorry about earlier— so many people are all too willing to forget.” He shook his head. “It’s a shame, isn’t it?” Indeed… “as for where I’ve got these— surely you’ve seen the greenery around?” Of course— how could he miss it? The whole district felt frozen out of season. “The Great One’s domain extends not just to the plants. A small population of the blue-shells grows in the streams. Apparently someone brought some with them all the way from Refuge.”

  Avyr’s eyes widened. “One of the Great Ones?” It sounded absurd, said so simply like that, without any of the reverence that always seemed to follow in their paw-prints— but then, on second thought, he realized that they wouldn’t be quite so unique in the sects. “Nevermind. I’ll take one of the blue-shells.” After all, every elder of the Bloody Saffron Sect was technically high enough in cultivation to be called that great honorific, though Avyr got the impression that if he called them that, the cat in front of him would claw him for it. No love lost, it seemed.

  Little treat in hand, as delectably flavorful as he’d always remembered it to be, he wandered through the street for a while, not quite going in any one way yet nonetheless making his way towards his destination regardless. So long as he was following the stream up to its source, he was pretty sure that he was getting closer to the shop he’d seen on the networks…

  Tossing the empty shell into a garbage can, and crossing the bridge, and seeing— the vines, the verdancy, for a moment along that clear stretch of river all the lush grasses and reeds pole-straight, rushes bent, hanging skeins of tropical bamboo… their leaves, arrow straight against the slightly moist day and livid skies— he could believe that somewhere in that all was one of the few Sundering-step cats of Refuge. As the adage went— the whole world bowed in their passing, and bent to the whisper of their whims.

  Yet, they’d still been driven out of the forest. He wondered what that truly said about them.

  Sighing, he pulled out his dataslate and set off again, far more purposefully than before. Twice over two more small streams, past the intersection between Fourth and Seventeenth, one small leap across the main tributary when he realized he was on the wrong side of the river… and then he was there. The smell of leather acridly strong, harsh against his senses as he climbed up the stars and rapped a paw against the door as loud as he could— telling him that he was at the right place after all.

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  A minute later, the door creaked open, revealing a middle-aged looking cat staring out at him, head cocked in curiosity. “I was expecting Jalyr, but a new face is fine with me too. You’ve come for some proper bags, I imagine?” her gaze fell to his current makeshift thing, a wince flashing across her face. “Oh, yeah, you definitely need a new bag. Is that a human purse? That must be horrible to use.”

  He chuckled lightly. “It was a makeshift thing. My last bit of gear was destroyed in a…” actually, now that he thought about it, saying he’d gotten his bag broken fighting a Foundation Establishment cultivator up in the wilderness sounded maybe a little arrogant. “Accident,” he finished lamely. “An accident.”

  The leatherworker snickered at that, turning about and waving him in with a flick of her tail. “You’re still young. Plenty of time for accidents to happen and to grow from them. No mistakes, no learning and all that, you know? Oh— please excuse the mess.” The whole room was cluttered full of little bits of leather and various tools— some the same bone and stone he’d been used to as a child, but also some more human looking steel implements too. “Don’t mind the kittens, either. They’re rambunctious little things, but they won’t bother you.” That was said quite pointedly to the two little figures he’d not even noticed, hidden behind a rack of various drying leathers. They squeaked and scampered off, followed by the leatherworker’s laughter.

  She led him through the mess and further into the building, up the stairs and to a little spot of sun perched comfortably over the small stream meandering below. She rummaged through some drawers for a moment, before pulling out some measures.

  “Alright…” she slowly nudged him to stand still— then kept nudging him, until he gave her an unimpressed glare and she backed off with a giggle. “Stand right there. Don’t move. I need to take your measure, and if I get it wrong at all then it’s on your head. Won’t be comfortable if I don’t get it right.” She started slowly, then sped up, all but leaning on him sometimes as she measured him every which way. It kinda reminded him of some of the elders in his tribe. They could be… pushy, if they ever really wanted to get their way with something.

  Finally, she was all but done, all the various measurements marked down in a little booklet she’d kept off to the side. “Must be convenient, using the standard measures.”

  She paused for a second, then completed the last few little measurements and snapped the book shut with a soft thump of paper hitting paper. “True, that. Don’t get me wrong, I love the Forest of Refuge as much as any other cat, but there’s some few things that the humans do better— loath as I am to admit that.” He cocked his head, a bit confused, and after a second the leatherworker sighed. “How much time have you spent with others after you left?”

  “Plenty? I’m not entirely introverted, I just like reading books…”

  She rolled her eyes, thwacking him with her tail. “Not like that, silly. I meant, how much time have you spent with others of your kind? Humans don’t count— they try, sure, but they fail to really reach where it counts, you know?” He wasn’t sure if he did. Lily was his best friend… his best friend ever, including all his childhood friends from back in Refuge. They simply clicked in a way that he’d never clicked with anyone before. “You don’t have to answer that,” she continued before he could regardless— “I can tell. You should be careful what you say around these parts. Supporting the humans a bit too openly draws attention, and not the kind you’d like.” Something felt… off about that. He couldn’t quite put a paw on it, but it felt wrong in a way that almost sickened him.

  He thought about it for a moment, then just nodded and let it slip out of his mind. It probably wasn’t important— just a bit of advice, from one cat to another.

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