He crouched over his prize, gnawing on the pepperoni slices. His battered ears swiveled, tracking the gang as they surrounded him.
The leader was a deep-chested pit bull, scarred from many battles. “You have trespassed, Cat.”
Cat stood and bowed. “I desire no conflict, Karbar bar Barkar.”
“It is too late for you, stray,” snarled Karbar. “This alley will be your grave.”
Seven dogs, all well-muscled, all lean and hungry, fanned out behind.
“Give my regards to your master, the human daimyo,” said Cat. He crouched back, his claws extending, scraping softly against the concrete. “Make peace with your gods.”
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