(One off story)

She looked out the broken window through the rain. She was glad it was easy for her to climb the brick walls of this abandoned factory and reach one of the many windows and slip between the shards of glass without being slashed. It made it easy to hide her stash of few possessions, and meant fewer worries about someone helping themselves to her things. It wasn't much, but the colder it got, the more she was glad of her blankets and her own fur coat. But then, that's why she was homeless in the first place. No one really wanted a human in a permanent cat suit unless they were already unstable or interested in scientific expiraments. She stretched out her claws absently.

She thought about the new kid, determined to be independent, but too stupid to have the needed protective instincts. He trusted his suitcase would stay in one place all day. He believed his money would always buy him food or roof. And he left some in his suitcase. She felt bad taking it, but she could give it back. If she wanted to. If Waldo had taken it, he'd be drinking tonight. He'd be drinking anyway, but with money he could afford nicer things like his own bottle and not the recycling bins of the local bars. Waldo knew the recycling schedule better than anyone. If Tammy had found it, she'd shoot up. And others, if they knew his suitcase had money, they'd be after him personally. As it was, not more than 15 minutes after she walked away from it, that suitcase was empty and knifed. Contents were stollen or tossed. His pictures that he saved- Pictures! No one brings pictures that don't fit in a wallet! -those pictures were spread through the mud.

She had saved one. The kid with a younger sister, it looked like, and happy smiling parents. What she really wanted to do was take the luggage tag and the picture and hand them over to a cop she knew. That would take care of the kid. It probably ought to be the right thing to do. But the cop inevitably asked questions about *her*, and that would never do. She was too old for the orphanages they had tried her in before, and the science lab was still asking too many questions. The kid would not have learned his lessons about life on the street. He would never know if he could make it- be truly independent. If he really hated it that much, he'd be back in a cage again with stricter rules, and she knew cages.

She sighed. She would hate herself for being soft. She put her coat and hat back on, and headed out in the rain. Somewhere, he was just learning the real meaning of cold, wet and miserable. She would watch him a little, and maybe, just maybe try to keep him from getting himself killed.  ¶ 3:07 PM