Hunter moved silently along the deserted street, staying in the shadows. It was never completely dark in the city. Lights were always present—if not from the cars, then from the windows of the humans’ dens or the tops of poles. Humans didn’t like darkness. He knew their eyes did not see well in the dark, and the lights helped overcome that weakness. Humans didn’t seem to like darkness. Hunter thought they might even fear it.
He had watched from the shadows as humans walked by at night. The confidence, the strut with which they moved during the day was absent, especially when they were alone. They looked as if they were being hunted, rather than being the hunters. The only thing they had to fear was other humans. They must be like cats, thought Hunter. The little ones are afraid of the big ones, the young are afraid of the old, and the weak are afraid of the strong.
At dusk, there were almost as many humans and cars as there were during the day. But the later it got, the less there were, until by the middle of the night they were rarely seen outside. Hunter could hear them talking inside their dens, and flashes of headlights passed now and then, but the streets were basically empty, left to the cats, rats and other night-roaming animals. Most nights he saw more skunks, raccoons or possums than humans. While none of them were friends, neither were they enemies. But everyone kept a wary eye on each other.
Occasionally a dog or two would appear. They were nothing more than an annoyance to Hunter. Their senses were so dull that if he didn’t move, they often walked right by him. Even if they had noticed him, dogs weren’t equipped to climb, so a leap over a fence or up into a tree provided Hunter with all the safety he needed. Hunter had always chosen flight over fight, when possible. A wary cat, and Hunter was always careful, could sense their approach. Between their loud footfalls, their jangling chains and their heavy breathing, dogs were impossible to miss.
Hunter had only been cornered by a dog once. Fighting it had been his only option. But dogs were badly equipped fighters. Having their only weapon—their teeth—located beside their eyes had ill prepared dogs to scrap with cats. A determined cat, showing fang and claw, could keep a dog at bay. A lightning-quick claw to the face or a dog’s muzzle would send it whimpering and yelping as it ran away.
But a pack could be dangerous. As a group, their puny brains and lack of confidence were lethal. Hunter had heard stories about packs of dogs catching a cat. They would attack from all directions, nipping and biting, spinning the poor cat around until finally one dog would rush forward and chomp down, killing it. Then they would tear it apart, leaving fur, blood and guts on the ground. Like the humans in their cars, dogs didn’t always kill for food, they just killed. Hunter thought dogs had spent so much time with humans that they had adopted some of their most disgusting habits.
Hunter slipped under a fence and pressed his body against a human den. There was no sound and only a little bit of light coming from one of the windows. Even when they slept they had to have lights on. It was as if they were afraid of being swallowed up by darkness. Hunter thought he might have felt the same way if his eyes were dull.
He caught sight of movement above and froze. It was a cat on a windowsill, illuminated by the light coming from within the human’s den. Hunter was surprised the cat had gotten this close without him noticing sooner. He should have picked up its scent before now. Unless…the cat was inside the den, behind the glass.
Using all of his senses, Hunter surveyed his surroundings. He was alone—except for the cat inside the den. It was looking at him. Effortlessly, Hunter jumped up to the narrow window ledge. The cat inside jumped slightly backward. Its reaction was neither quick nor graceful, hardly catlike at all.
Slowly Hunter lifted a paw and tapped the window. He looked through the window and at the cat. It stared back. Hunter couldn’t tell if the cat was a tom or a she-cat because he couldn’t pick up a scent through the glass, but he had nothing to fear—it wasn’t a very big cat.
“Hello,” Hunter said. “It is a nice night to catch a mouse.”
The cat didn’t answer. Couldn’t it hear him?
“I’m Hunter!” he said, much louder.
The cat didn’t answer, but slowly, cautiously, it inched forward.
“Can you hear me?” Hunter asked.
“Hear, yes,” the cat said. “Why?”
“Why…why what?”
“Why you here?” it asked.
“I’m here to say hello,” Hunter said. “Just being friendly.”
“You no friend.”
Hunter turned his head to the side. What was wrong with this cat? Why was it talking so strangely? It was like a kitten who hadn’t learned to speak properly yet.
“No share food. Food is mine,” it said.
“I’m not here for your food,” Hunter said.
“Go away!” the cat hissed.
Instinctively the fur on Hunter’s back bristled, making him look bigger than he was. The little cat sprung forward and banged against the glass with a loud thud. Hunter struck back, swatting the glass.
They screeched and hissed at each other. A bright light came on inside the house. The humans were awake. Hunter should have fled, but he didn’t. He wasn’t prepared to leave this fight yet.
“Someday, when you’re outside, I’ll find you, and there will be no window to protect you,” he said. “But not this day.”
He jumped down from the ledge and disappeared into the darkness. Stupid cat. Stupid humans. If he ever did find that cat outside, he’d give it a lesson on manners. But he didn’t have time to think about it any longer. He was still hungry. He turned and headed toward the bridge where he knew there might be some pigeons that hadn’t chosen a safe place to roost for the night.