don’t share their secrets, they send no letters. I bet this growler’s ranged far, picking out the air tunnels in the blackout using those scanner whiskers. I wonder if he logged my ride-by midnight whoosh, fresh from a trouncing at the quiz night. Too many smart cookies in this dorf. My cat’s sensor rig humbles all of them. I lie in bed waiting for the 4a.m. birdsong and I can feel the soft cool of the breeze on my face, first sign that you’ve killed the night, like Hem in the Madrid caldera, but I can’t build a picture of the air and how it moves around objects the way growl cat does. Outsmarted on all fronts.
