The stately black cat sits in the shadows across from the Spin Cycle Laundromat and Bike Repair shop, waiting. On schedule, his target exits the apartment door and locks it behind her as she had every morning that week. This morning, she is wearing cut-off black denim overalls over a black and white striped boat-neck top and a pair of black sneakers speckled with paint. Her long black hair is pulled into a high ponytail, half caught under the strap of her black corduroy backpack, and her arms are full of black bracelets of beads and thin leather strips. Once she makes her way to the street, he slips along the wall after her, keeping half a block between them as she turns the corner onto Ottarstedt’s Main Street.

He has learned several things since arriving in the grim little town two days on paw from the Colony in Melitown two weeks ago. First, he did not envy the cats stationed in this unpleasantly damp town, and they were not exactly welcoming. Suspicious of his mission, though he hadn’t asked, nor cared, about theirs, only one was forthcoming when he’d inquired about the reports of unusual flutterings of the Veil.

“There’s been a change in the plants in town, but also the weather, and I’m honestly not sure which came first,” the petite tortoiseshell had said. She’d pointed out some lively growth on the street trees lining Main and the large planters hanging off the streetlamps full of healthy, lush green leaves of the potato vines and the bright fullness of the geraniums. Typically, they would be limp and pale from the soggy conditions the area was known for. According to her, it had started in July after the local schools let out for summer break.

He’d also spoken to a Hyades girl who insisted the rain wasn’t her doing, and in fact, she’d settled in the town because of the weather. Said a diviner in her previous community had recommended Ottarstedt because it would be in need of some balance, but she hadn’t yet had to intervene with the clouds, and this gave him the idea to seek a seer himself.

As luck would have it, the diviner he’d found was also a real estate agent who’d traded him the address of an unusual new tenant she’d placed in exchange for a quick vibrational healing of a large bruise she’d gotten while walking through a newly signed vacant property. He would’ve done it regardless of her intel, but it was handy that she had something of interest because balance must be kept, or balance will be made.

This had led him to the teenager who had moved from Melitown after graduation that he was staking out as she ran errands, job hunted, and spent time in the campus library.

Presently, she has ducked into a hardware store, and he sits on a bench, pretending to sleep in the rare patch of sun since it was there. A few minutes later she steps out, tucking a small bag into her backpack and carefully pulling her ponytail from the strap as she settles it back on her shoulder. Jumping down, he continues his tailing, ending up on campus again.

She pauses on the green, looks up at the sun, then, scanning the quad, heads toward a sturdy maple. Settling at its base on a hoodie she’d dug from her bag, she holds a book on her lap, face tilted skyward, eyes closed.

The cat takes the opportunity to slink to the tree and hide among its branches. From above, he studies her, basking in the rare Ottarstedt sun. Even the leaves around him have turned, mirroring her position, and he resists the feline tendencies urging him to join them. This is his first mission, and determined to prove himself, he remains vigilant. There is some obscurity about her he cannot place. Rather, has not been able to place yet. I just need to have some closer observation. An inside look. He pondered how to initiate contact while she sighed contentedly in the warm light. His latest note was how strongly she smelled of something sweet. Berries?

An assertive stride heading towards their tree snaps every hair on him to attention. A Neikea girl, taller than the one he’s been watching, has broken from the pair she was with and is standing over the girl who hasn’t flinched at the threatening aura that spreads from the new arrival. The cat fades into the shadow before the rise of his hackles garners their notice. Even as aggressive as an embodiment of altercations can be, the Neikos, like any other Obscure, would never go against the protections of the Veil. War spirits as a group did not put much effort into reining in their energy, and he wasn’t sure if the young ones were even aware of the pressure surrounding them. It wasn’t uncommon for the Obvious to be fairly oblivious to it, though, especially if it wasn’t intentional. He was not ready to be known and did not want to tangle with a gaggle of hair-trigger tempers.

 “Freshman?” she asks, casting a shadow across the girl who opened her eyes and blinked upwards.

“In August,” she answers, tilting her head.

“Kypria? We’ll be late,” calls one of the girls on the brick path, arm looped around the waist of a third girl, peering around her after their friend.

“We’re always late, and there’s never any pie left,” the third girl moans in the softest wails.

“You can come with us,” says the one called Kypria, head cocked and the unshaved strip of bleached hair like a recumbent crest of a showy bird dips briefly with the movement. One of her elbows gripped in the palm of one hand, she points over her shoulder with the other’s thumb toward the path.

“Oh, I’m waiting for someone,” she says, looking at her watch in an impressively pococurante display to the rapt cat above.

Kypria grunts and turns to leave, hesitates, and asks, “What’s your name?”

She picks up her book, sliding a finger behind her bookmark, and returns to her page, saying, “Lenore.”

“Merely this, and nothing more,” the third recites automatically.

“Hush,” says the other. “Kypria, let’s be off! We’re hungry.”

“If you change your mind, we’ll be in the main dining hall,” Kypria says, leaving the green. The cat watches them go, each taking a turn glancing back at his quarry, who continues to read as if nothing had happened.

His ears pick up one of the trio in the distance say, “I can’t tell.”

“Maybe Disir … or just goth.”

“Mm, yeah, I dunno,” Kypria thinks aloud, “But she can’t be Obvious.”