The din gets louder, the aromas stronger, but they can see light ahead, and movement. Picking up their pace, they hurry forward, keen to reach their destination. As they approach the end of the alley, Fiona finds she is holding her breath in anticipation.
Spilling from the alleyway, they find themselves at the edge of a huge, bustling market.
“Pretty things,” the cats declare in unison, and disappear into the crowd. As Fiona strains to catch sight, she looks at all manner and shape of face, some human, some not.
“Oh my god,” she whispers, catching her breath.
