Chapter 3

“I know that’s not very safe,” his rescuer explained, as if Colin might express concern, “but it’s just up the hill, and this car’s got wards on it, you’ll be okay. You’re pretty quiet, aren’t you? But you keep staring at me. Is that a cat thing? Judging people who’re trying to help?”

Colin scowled, a cat-scowl, and promptly turned his back. Hunkered down into the jacket. Swished his tail. Mud everywhere. Good.

The man laughed. Colin shut his eyes and wondered what he’d gotten himself into this time, and whether he’d have to run again, and how soon.

The answer to this question, as it turned out, required further consideration. Running might not be a requirement the way it’d been last time, but there might be a limit to the amount of rescuing he could tolerate. Colin, water getting in his eyes from the kitchen sink, cursed his life and his poor decision-making skills. Not for the first time. Not for the last, either, probably.