The cat never knew what time it was.  To her, it was night or it was 
day.  Dawn and dusk crept in between.  Now, however, sunset seemed long ago, 
and it would be even longer before the sun would rise again.  Not that she 
particularly cared.  All the cat thought of now was her hunger.
	Her pink tongue shot out and slipped across her lips.  Yes, she was 
hungry, but not for food.  In the dirty streets of Darben rats and mice were 
easy to come by, and she could still taste the blood from her last meal 
lingering in her mouth.  No, this hunger was for something more.
	But she was a cat and could not determine more than that.
	Suddenly her ears perked up.  Somewhere she heard the sound of metal 
grating against stone.  It was common for men to be out at night, especially 
the kind that walked stooped over and wore ragged clothes.  Metal against 
stone, however, meant horseshoes, and horseshoes meant horses.  It was not 
common for them to be out at night.
	The cat tensed her muscles and prepared to bound further into the 
shadow, away from the men, but she froze in the movement.  Her glance shot back 
along the street.
	Somewhere, back there, she knew she could fulfill her hunger.
	She crouched low and waited in the shadows, eager to see what would 
come.

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