"A true daughter of the Line, eh?" someone says.
Alarmed, Bast tries to move away. Jagged pain pulses along her spine, and she gasps.
"She's awake now. Don't do anything... rash."
"I won't. You're no fun sometimes, Ethel." Though the voice grumbled, she can tell he's making a joke.
A rough paw prods her flank; she recoils, shivering.
The voice is gentle, but commanding. "Get up. My friend and I need a better look at you."
She stands, feeling her wounds protest. "Bast," she croaks.
"I'm Readis, and this is Ethel." His tone lacks the rough street rhythms she's used to.
"Tell me, how did you come to be injured?" asks Readis.
She has to lean forward to hear him.
"A tom challenged me," she replies. "I won, but my paw is infected."
Readis spits. "Biting your own paw! That custom should be changed."
"We can discuss it later," says Ethel. "Right now, Bast, I think you should come with us."
What choice does she have? She follows them to a beaten-down warehouse. Her guides slip in through a blank window.
The room is dimly lit. Readis and Ethel are sitting in the center, their eyes focused on her.
"Do you live here?" she asks to break the silence.
"Yes," says Readis proudly. "I'm well-known around here, so be expecting visitors. Usually, though, it's very quiet here."
"It's out of the way; humans never come here," says Ethel. "The others should treat you well."
Bast feels her heart sink. "Others?"
"Don't worry. They'll help you out. One or two like their own company, but the younger cats are all right." Ethel gives Readis a familiar nudge.
