Ears twitched, the soft rustle of a heavy snow fall; voices chattering here and there could be faintly heard outside the borders of the barren gardens. It was the normal hum drum of city, with live plants no longer able to provide the leaves that buffered the noise and smell of the inner city. It made her whiskers curl, the air thick with the pollution that plants no longer filtered out. It was a shame really, the moon kingdoms air was so much cleaner than this.



She randomly bit into the paw pad of her left foot, cleaning the snow stuck in between the pads. Her long sharp claws extended as she groomed herself. A soft breeze ruffled her dense fur coat; but even fur as luxurious as hers could not keep the nip out. A small sneeze escaped her poor chapped nose, and enough was enough for her…it was time to get out of this chill. Enough scanning for one day, she stood up on the dead branch she was on and hopped down into the snow bank that was below her.



Oooo it was cold so cold, she had to hop instead of walk to get to a nearby path that had been shoveled. The snow clung to her black fur in clumps, contrasting oddly against the dark background. She gave herself a shake and began to pad down the path. Ama would have something warm for her when she got home.

It was coming down, alright. David looked up into the sky. This wasn't the typical snowfall you'd see in the low valley, in a well insulated city. It reminded him of that one storm in Kirkwood, between Tahoe and the Sierra Nevada's summit, the craggy bluffs standing out over the small dimple of flat land on Route 88. Was this normal for Tokyo? Wouldn't the sea insulate them from the cold?

He needed more time to talk things out with Priestess Hino, Setsumi, Sophia, or... really, anyone. They kept talking about his new assignment, to infiltrate, to gather intelligence, and stop those obelisks. But... how? In California, he knew the players, he controlled the grounds. He was a man of power there, a force of nature, much like the snow.

Here, he was just another street punk moonlighting as a holy man. Everyone was different, the way they operated. Who was he supposed to talk to?

The pathway was littered with sign: layer upon layer of footprints, mostly adults. No one with a brain in their head would take children out in this weather. They'd stay inside, read "To Build a Fire" by Jack London, teach their kids not to wander out into the snow. No, no one would be stupid enough to be out here-

The cat was flinching with each step, trying, almost willing itself to levitate as it struggled through the cold. Frowning, David felt something jab at him. Against the numbing of his fingertips, the dead mass of his feet, and his polished, chilled face, he felt something deeper than the cold.

Lowering to one knee as he approached, he unzipped his black, lightweight jacket, and held out his arms, gesturing to the animal. "Come on," he urged, waiting for it's response.