The alley begins to light up, which is odd, as we make our way to the very back. More cats stand and walk alongside us, staring at me in wonder.

A large pile of trash and rocks is in the middle of the back. I hear a low growl and look to my right. There's a gray-and-black she-cat staring at me with slitted eyes.

"Go back to where you came from," she spits at me, her green collar shining in the setting sun. "We don't welcome prisoners here."

I narrow my eyes. I am not a prisoner. Is that what they think I am?