“Fuck off.” She laughs. “Maybe if I go out there I’ll scare the cat away.” I’m already unlocking the back door. Even though I know it’s coming, the chill still feels like a surprise. I’ve left my slippers inside, so I have to gingerly navigate the short stretch of gravel in bare feet before I reach the damp, cold grass of the lawn, lit only by the light from the kitchen window and open door. The cat is still on the wall; it hasn’t pounced yet. “Shoo,” I call. It regards me unblinking. “Shoo!” I try again louder and add a sudden sweeping movement, but the cat is undeterred.

It’s getting darker by the second, but I can still see the bird. Perhaps I ought to pick it up, take it inside or something . . . I’m not at all sure what one is supposed to do with an injured bird. City living hasn’t equipped me to deal with this. I move toward it slowly, hoping not to scare it even more. It’s still trying to fly, but its attempts are becoming more feeble. I’m perhaps ten meters from it now, on an exceptionally soggy patch of grass that is surely soaking the hems of my jeans. The damp cold squelching beneath my naked feet is deeply unpleasant.

Suddenly there’s a long shadow in the rectangle of light cast from the kitchen door. I look back to see Carrie framed in it. “Is it still there?”

“Yes,” I say, but then I turn back to the bird . . . and it isn’t. “Wait,” I say in confusion. “Did you see it fly off?”

“I couldn’t see it in the first place, let alone see it flying off.”

Surely in its weakened state it couldn’t have gone far. I look around, but there’s no sign of it. To be fair, I can no longer see the cat either.

“It must have hopped away,” I say, more to myself than Carrie. The darkness is becoming complete; there are no stars in the sky tonight. I look around a little more and then yield to the cold and the advancing black and head back toward the welcoming light of the kitchen. I see the glow of inhuman eyes and realize the cat is still on the wall, still focused on where the bird was. It’s only because I’m looking at the cat that I catch a glimpse of the missile that’s hurtling through the air toward me, and duck sideways in time for it to glance harmlessly off my arm.

“Fuck!”

“What was that?” Carrie calls.