alley cat blues
#1
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Anselm is fully shifted, but walking along on four legs. =P

Light, shrill tones escaped through pursed lips, bounced off of dingy brick walls, and found their way to his ears again. The echo of his whistling was strangely appealing--perhaps because he'd never heard anything quite like it before. The narrow alley didn't swallow up sounds as quickly as a cave might, and the high pitched whistles came back loud and sharp at first then gradually faded to lower notes as they raced further away. Mach one; now that was awfully impressive.
Still, the random tune that he produced was wrought up by his subconscious, and he noted the echoes simply as interesting--although extraneous--information. He was much more preoccupied with the random piles of junk that were laying around. He moved along carefully and low to the ground to avoid broken glass. Every so often, he'd sit back on his haunches and use his hands to dig through some of the stuff. Once he found something interesting, he'd tuck it away in his backpack and move on. So far, the list of treasures included: four AA Duracell batteries, one small tin for storage, two shiny switch blades, and maybe half a dozen unidentified knick-knacks that he'd inspect more closely in the future.
The allies behind some of the major shopping districts sure were interesting. Holding up a sealed bottle containing some unknown liquid, he squinted at the label as he tried to discern the contents. In the meanwhile, his whistles morphed into a distracted hum.
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