Cat was crouched behind a bush in the parking lot when he saw the man walk through the double doors of Sage Valley High School’s front entrance. He knew there weren’t any security cameras this far from the building.

A bursting orange sunset spilled across the lot. When the man--James Bower, Mr. Bower to his students—walked past Cat’s hiding place, he felt one palm dig into the compressed mulch. The other hand gripped cold metal. He was close enough now to see the iridescent feathers around the man’s beak, and the different plastic pieces of his headphones. Sometimes Cat wondered what he’d been listening to. Although, after Bower’s actions had come to light, he didn’t deserve people asking questions that humanized him.

Bower’s jacket was creased from a day of work but he was smiling, humming along to the music. It was a two-minute walk to the bus stop. He would take a shortcut through the woods. Cat knew he wouldn’t make it to the other side.

Once Bower entered the woods, Cat rose and began to follow. This body was smaller. One of the things, he mused, which allowed the perpetrator to conceal themselves. If Cat were himself then he may have been more noticeable behind that hedge. Of course, if Cat were himself then he never would have been here in the first place.