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Guided by the familiar scents and sounds of home, Kali settled back into the regular rhythm of life at shore. Though it wasn't an easy transition, after weeks at sea. It took her tail two days to stop over-correcting and adjust to the Benz's steady planks not tumbling and rolling under her feet.

The rafted city, the lower city of Mjau known colloquially as 'the Benz,' floated atop the desert sands. The boardwalks had a gentle bob from the tame waves of sand lapping underneath. A subdued motion, ascribed to the many anchors tethering their half of Mjau to the infinite abyss below.

However, her tail acclimated quickly enough. As most tails did when returning. Two days of stumbling around the house wasn't long, compared to the weeks she spent on the Sandstalker.

Sailors called the phenomenon 'lazy tail,' because it was always easier to adjust to the slight angles and sways needed for the boardwalks. From shore to sea, that transition was more difficult. The way a ship traversed the desert seas, plummeting down into valleys and rolling up the other side, every cat's tail struggled with the tumultuous motions brought on by the sand's dunes and ridges.

Correcting her sleep schedule took far longer. But, with unwelcome assistance from Mikora, Kali started waking up at dusk instead of dawn. That, too, returned to normal, after several days of lousy catnaps, woken by the sunlight, and then later by Mikora's hassling and nagging.

Before she knew it, Kali was awake and out of bed before Mikora was. A habit out of necessity, if anything, to avoid any more knocking and yowling at her door.

A week passed, and it was like Kali had never left.

She stirred when the light in her window faded. The final sweltry rays of the Mjau daytime slipped beneath the sandy horizon. Another day ended, and a newfound night began for Kali and the rest of the Benz.

Kali hopped out of her hammock refreshed. When she looked outside, she didn't see bright light waiting for her. Awake when all cats should be, once again, in the dim evening hours before nightfall. She reached up towards the stars etched onto the ceiling, standing on the tips of her toes and stretching out every languid muscle under her pelt. The cooler nighttime air sent a shiver through her exposed fur. Despite the chill, awaking at sundown felt nice.

Kali crossed her room and dug through a short chest of drawers. She faced her hardest decision of the day: choosing something to wear. A blissful change from tying and retying buoys onto traps, untangling irreparable nets and fishing line, or figuring out if a shape on the horizon was a shark or a rocky outcrop. Far easier picking through her clothes than doing any chores on a ship.

Especially when Kali found what she wanted, chirping delight at her green wrap dress. One of the few articles she owned that didn't have a tear or hole—a sleeveless dress with a shorter skirt that fell to her knees. Such was the style in the Benz. Floor-length skirts, or anything below a cat's ankles, picked up too much sand from the boardwalks. Scuffs and tears from dragging across planks ruined any modesty and grace they offered.

She tossed the dress over her shirt and pants and tied it at the waist. Yet another convention of Benz style. No matter the occasion, or attire, a cat always wore long-sleeved shirts and pants, fastened with wraps or ties at the wrist and ankles. Any dresses, vests, and coats could go atop, but arms and legs stayed covered. A rule of convenience. While the sea was more tame beneath the Benz, there was still an occasional gust that could throw sand in your muzzle. Better to have more fur covered than not.

Kali grabbed earrings off her dresser and popped them on as she hurried downstairs. Simple hoops on her lower ears, and short bars and studs closer to the tip. A comfortable, familiar weight, as if they kept her grounded, stable, despite the shifting sands and fluctuating boards underfoot. A feeling she missed aboard the Sandstalker, but earrings fared poorly on ships. The sailors missing bits of their ears served as testaments to that.

Dressed for a pleasant Benz night, Kali leaped the last few steps and landed at the front door. She squeezed past the couch, which Mikora still hadn't figured out what to do with, and stepped outside. A happy trill bubbled in her throat as she stretched out her arms again and appreciated the open air between her splayed fingers. She popped their Elimere totem once on the nose before sauntering out into the streets. She wanted all the luck she could get. Tonight was pay night.

The merchants took almost a full week to inventory the Sandstalker's latest haul. Though several of those days were likely spent haggling with Cutthroat-Captain Tulaziya. A nickname Kali always loved, but she could never use. Tulaziya thought it made her sound too harsh—too mean. When, really, the name was more than fitting.

Ordinarily, dealing with merchants only took two or three days. A full week? After that much haggling, this payout had to be decent. Kali could feel it in her whiskers.

She went straight to the docks. No detours or chit-chatting. Only a quick wave of her tail in passing to the few cats that addressed her. She passed two ships in the Mjau fleet; the Duneprowler and the Sandstalker docked beside it.

Kali never cared much for Duneprowler. It was wider than the Sandstalker was, a smoother ride across the sand, but the captain was a notorious cheat. The sharp edges, large fangs, and cruel snarl on their figurehead befitted the ship and its crew. As Tulaziya said, they were all claws and no ears. A vicious sort that most cats avoided, if they could.

Kali flipped her tail once as she passed Sandstalker. A silent request for some extra luck from their far more charming, friendly figurehead. If Elimere watched through those eyes, hopefully he'd answer her now. There was a stack of notes on their kitchen table collecting dust. They needed to pay the rent arrears. Else, the landlord would come to take the price out of their pelts instead.

She waited in line with the other sailors, her tail fidgeting the entire time. Until she reached the front of the line.

No fidgeting then. Only smooth swishes and a flirty curl as she stepped forward.

When she reached the counter, she passed her thin slip over, flashing a pleasant smile at the cat across. A little extra charm never hurt. Especially since most of the cats there recognized her from her kitten years.

Mikora had her practicing the moment she could walk. Turn her head right to keep her bad eye out of view. Smile pretty and perk up that tail. A trick that usually netted them a couple of extra coins. As it did today.

The old molly at the counter paused, seeing Kali's friendly ruse, and slipped two more coins into a small bag before passing it across the counter. Kali returned the favor with a jovial swish of her tail. As she hooked her claws into the pouch and dragged it closer, her ears twitched. The sound of coins on the counter, the weight under her fingertips—she was right. This had to be a far better haul than usual.

Kali went straight home. Even hidden in her shirt pocket, the subtle jingle made her an easy mark. Carrying a sizable bag of coins like this was ill advised. Like any city, there were cheats and thieves.

Pickpockets were more common in the busier areas, like the market square or shopping districts. But if they couldn't snatch and run, some thieves would pry the coins out of a cat's claws instead. Muggings occurred near the docks and the less traveled streets and alleys. Perpetrated by gangs of cats, who decided stealing other cat's hard work was better than working hard themselves.

There was a short list of notorious cats that the Benz's thieves didn't mess with.

Ship captains were off limits. Since they negotiated with merchants, and effectively worked for Dockside, the retribution wasn't worth the risk.

The imperial family, close and distant relatives, stayed untouched, too. Because of the dozens of guards and the Mjauzi that accompanied them, if their toes ever touched the Benz's boardwalk. Which rarely happened. Maybe once a decade, if that.

Anyone else had to earn their place on that list. Mikora used to be near the top. At first, because of her reputation as a former Mjauzi, a trained palace guard. Then, when whispers of that died down, she returned to the list after some younger toms tried to mug her. A dumb mistake on their part.

Even if it wasn't Mikora, messing with any mother was always a bad idea—especially a mother with their knee-high kitten. No claws were sharper than those bared by an overprotective mother. The two toms, and their shredded, bloody pelts, learned that firsthand.

Though, since Mikora hurt her arm and didn't sail anymore, and Kali was older now, the furtive glances at their pockets turned bold again. Each day that passed, the profits steadily outweighed the risk. It wouldn't be long before that scale tipped.

Today, however, Kali returned with every coin still in tow. With the door shut and locked behind her, she weaved through the living room into the kitchen. Her ears flicked towards the stairs as she passed. The floor creaked overhead. Mikora was awake now, getting ready for whatever jobs she had lined up.

Kali dropped her wages on the table. A louder clunk than normal. A wonderful, lucrative sound to her ears. She poured the contents out, sorting out all the different sized and shaped coins with her claws. Irregularities weren't important. Dockside banks weren't renowned for their manufacturing, so all the coins were misshapen and warped. The material, the metal, was what mattered.

Once sorted, Kali snatched up a paper, which had migrated onto the kitchen counter. Some unfurling and smoothing, and she could see the bright red number scrawled at the bottom. The ink alone was excessive. From what Tulaziya told her, red ink was pricey, which was why she made all her corrections in blue or green. But the landlords didn't care. They just wanted to make sure the Benz-rats knew the egregious amounts they owed.

Kali piled three stacks of silver coins next to the paper. Arrears covered, she frowned and sorted the rest, breaking them down into smaller stacks. Her whiskers stayed dipped as she recounted. Then, after counting a third time, a steady smile crept across Kali's muzzle.

'Mere watched after her today, for certain. She knew the cargo bay was full when they returned, but she never expected this.

After paying the landlord, they had enough silver leftover for a month-worth of meals on Kali's income, alone. Just barely. That was better than before she started the apprenticeship, when they were scraping by on coppers.

Kali turned an ear when Mikora's muzzle popped over her shoulder. Long white whiskers nearly poked Kali in her golden eye.

“Is that your pay?" Mikora asked. “All of it?"

“I guess it was a good catch." Kali leaned aside, dodging the tapered ends of Mikora's whiskers. “They only added two silver for a wink."

“That's better than a good catch. On apprentice pay, too?" Mikora's airy, trilled laugh tickled Kali's ear. “Tulaziya must have a new good luck charm."

“I don't think she does." Kali watched Mikora slink over to the sink and grab her apron. Plain gray pants and shirt that almost blended in with her fur, and the sleeves she preemptively rolled up and tied at her elbows. Working clothes. Whatever job she was prepping for, she didn't need to dress up.

Kali rolled a coin under her fingers, following its uneven path across the table. Her tail curled, a mischievous twist. “I think her favorite charm is still that handkerchief you gave her."

A satisfying groan from Mikora, as she slapped a cabinet shut. “Oh, 'Mere's tail, she still has that thing? It's been years."

“Well, if you'd stop and give her a new one-"

“Not today," Mikora said. “I don't have time. Maybe tomorrow."

Kali giggled. As with all matters involving Tulaziya, by the terse, chirped 'tomorrow,' Mikora meant never. A true procrastinator of all things, Tulaziya included.

Mikora flittered about the kitchen, freshly flustered, searching until she found a particular pair of old gloves by the sink. A heavier duty pair that once had a waterproof, waxy coating, which had flaked off over the years. Without it, they were only marginally better than any other gloves they owned.

“Dishwashing?" Kali asked.

“Close," Mikora answered, her voice echoing from the hollow cabinets under the sink. “Crab cleaning. Probably some of the big ones from your ship."

Kali's easy grin faltered. “Is that a good idea? That's going to be hard on your arm, isn't it?"

“Not any worse than usual." Mikora, finished with her frantic searching, pawed the various open cabinets shut. A belated pause at Kali's concerned inflection, then Mikora smiled as she tucked her gloves in the crook of her elbow. “Don't worry, Kals. I'll be fine. I've got to keep up with you, after all."

Mikora stopped by the table, swiping a reassuring lick across the top of Kali's head. Which Kali hissed at and furiously scrubbed away with her palm.

“I'll grab us something special for dinner on the way back," Mikora said. “Something different, like shrimp or scallops."

Kali's ears perked up. “Scallops?"

“I'll see what they have." Mikora paused in the doorway. Her hand hovered on the doorknob, and a glove slipped off her arm and slapped the floor. “Are you going out tonight?"

“Nah. I think I'll stay in. There's some stuff I want to work on."

Mikora nodded. “Alright. I'll see you in a few hours, then."

“Hours?" Kali scrunched her muzzle. “You're coming back before dawn?"

“I have to change clothes before I wait tables. It's funny. Cats prefer their servers not covered in sand and crab juice." Mikora swiped her errant glove off the floor and shrugged. “So, no wild parties while I'm out. At least wait until my second gig. Then you can invite all your friends over."

Kali let out a sharp, cold laugh. “Yeah, sure. Because everybody wants to come to Weird-eye's house–"

“Hey!" Mikora's scolding tone alone was enough to make Kali jolt upright in her seat. “None of that. Not under my roof," Mikora growled. “You've been hanging around too many Dockies."

Kali rolled her eyes. Dockies weren't the only ones that said it, but she didn't bother correcting Mikora. Instead, Kali nodded at the door. “Aren't you going to be late?"

Mikora's eyes widened, and a bubbly, startled chirp left her lips. She whirled around, leaving in a renewed rush, and almost slammed the door on her patchy tail.

Kali shook her head and scraped the spare coins into their bag. She didn't know why Mikora acted so surprised, when she was always late to everything. Part of why she struggled to keep any regular jobs. More than once, they raced to catch the Sandstalker before it left port. Each time they made it by the tips of their whiskers.

Kali tossed the half full bag onto the counter and left their allotment for rent on the table. Mikora would likely deliver it to their greedy landlady's claws between gigs. Then she'd sprint across town, if it was the same restaurant she normally worked at. Late again.

With Mikora gone and their housing secured for another month, Kali retreated to the cozy confines of her room. Which, more than anything, she'd missed while at sea.

Sailing wasn't just hard work, it was mentally taxing, too.

On the Sandstalker, Kali had a hard time finding a single, solitary space she could stretch out in without bumping into another cat. Around every corner was another whisker. Another pair of ears. Another tail. Cats in the hallways, cats in the galley, cats on the deck—cats everywhere, save for the fleeting hour or two when they gathered for dinner. Which was a different nuisance, with all the chewing, chattering, and shanties that carried through the halls.

So whenever Kali returned to shore, she retreated to her room, her private corner of their house, instead of venturing out into the town like so many cats did. Because getting a piece of her solitary life back was priceless. Priceless and fleeting. Before she knew it, she'd be on the Sandstalker working during the sweltering afternoons again.

In the meantime, her bedroom door sealed away the surrounding world and its troubles. All that existed right now was Kali and her room. No Mikora, no sailors, no apprenticeship. Just a hammock, a dresser, and her cluttered desk, which she turned her whiskers to.

Kali took a seat, tossed her tail over her lap, and started picking through the various projects she'd abandoned.

A half string of beads pooled in the far corner, waiting for the perfect sea glass to accentuate them. Thin sticks tied together in a tidy stack were ready to be cut and sanded into rounded or squared beads. Smooth beads waited for carving. Carved beads waited for stains and dyes.

Kali's tail tip perked up, eyeing the thin knives at her fingertips. Probably the reason she had so many half-finished projects. She enjoyed carving the small faces on beads most of all, and she kept starting new ones before finishing old ones.

Like she did now, as she selected a small blank bead with squared corners.

She chipped away, bit by bit, leaving sharp angular notches. A fitting design for an angular bead. Flat edges and hard corners. A fierce depiction of their renowned desert prophet, with triangular eyes and pointed brows, similar to the figurehead on the Duneprowler. Which would go well on her half-finished necklace, if she ever found the right glass to go with it.

The room dimmed as night settled, but her dilated eyes could still pick out every little detail she worked on. Even the mistakes, where she notched a part of the nose and broke one tooth.

She cursed silently, under her breath, out of habit. Like the walls had ears on her. Often they did, because of their small house, the thin walls, and a cat's excellent hearing. Mikora could swear by Elimere plenty, but if Kali did? She'd get popped on the ear or tail. Less likely now, since she was older, but all the swatting and scowls when she was younger stuck with her even now while she was alone in her room.

Half satisfied, Kali leaned back in her chair. A quick break from chipping, scraping, and filing. An ear strayed towards the window. Through the slim glass panes, she could hear the crowds outside. Voices, high and low, from cats on the streets and rooftops. Some music from farther into the Benz. Stringed instruments. Violins - possibly a cello with them from the deeper tones. Some discordant music flowed from another direction. A steady drummed beat that clashed with the strings.

Kali swiveled her ears forward. The various melodies faded to a droning hum in the background. She leaned forward and picked up a thinner knife. Rounded eyes affixed on a single, jagged point that needed to be chipped away. Just as she plucked at it, carefully digging the tip in, an ear strayed. A sharp rap on her window. Kali jumped out of her seat.

The knife flew out of her fingers, taking the bead with it. Both hit the wall and vanished somewhere in the crevice behind her desk.

Kali hissed her annoyance. She glared over at her window, stopping short of baring teeth. It sounded like the peck of an annoying gull. A little sharper, higher pitch, but very gull-like. Though sandgulls rarely roosted around the lower city. Too many cats would make a meal of them, even if their slimy meat had a weird, greasy flavor.

Then it happened again. A sharper crack and a dark flash as something hit the window. Again, Kali hopped, startled more by the movement than the sound. That wasn't a gull's beak.

From the clattering and rattling across the sloped roof, it sounded like something hard. Like the bead she was working on. Or something harder. Like a rock.

Then two hits in succession. Kali flattened her ears and hissed.

Definitely rocks.

Probably kittens with pilfered pieces of broken pots. And if Kali didn't show her claws now, they'd keep peppering the house until they broke a window. Known from experience, and remembered well after the scolding Mikora gave Kali when she played this same game.

Kali couldn't open her window, but through the murky panes, she could see outside and figure out who she was dealing with. Who was it this time? The two white kittens from up the street? Or the little tabby and their gang from two streets over?

Kali pressed her pink nose flush against the glass as she struggled to peer out. There were plenty of cats outside, bystanders and passersby alike, but none of them were kittens. She parsed through them until she spotted the outlier in front of their house. Her ears sprang up with a startled chirp.

That was a full-grown cat. And the other cats lingering on the street were giving him weird looks as he hurled another rock at her window. Which, by their lashing tails, might not just be looks for long.

“I can't believe this. 'Mere's stars and tail!" Kali shoved her chair aside and threw her door wide.

She ran downstairs as fast as possible, jumping off the stairs and veering around the obtrusive couch. She slammed the door open and leaped outside, just as her supposed assailant hefted another pebble. “What are you doing?"

Rinzaan's ears lifted beneath his dark blue, nearing black, scarf. He smiled, seeing her, which Kali didn't reciprocate. She snatched his hands, prying out the various sized pebbles and tossing them away. “You stupid—" She glanced at the other cats over his shoulder. Nosy neighbors. Neighbors who didn't seem as concerned since Kali was there, but their prying ears still slanted towards her and Rinzaan.

Kali grabbed Rinzaan's arm. She dragged him farther down the block, shooting a glance over her shoulder now and then. Until they were out of earshot and close enough to the music, and her neighbors couldn't overhear. Then Kali stopped where she was and yanked her claws off Rinzaan's arm.

“Why are you here?" Kali hissed. “And why are you throwing rocks at my house?"

“I didn't know how to get your attention."

“Knocking? Knocking on the front door. Like a normal, not-totally-suspicious cat? We don't throw rocks at each other!" Kali hesitated, recalling the miscreant kittens from the other street. And the kittens on their street. And the times she threw rocks when was a kitten. “Not usually," she added.

“Oh." Rinzaan reached under his hood and scratched at the back of his neck. He glanced away. “I, uh, didn't think about that."

His arm shifted the scarf. Just enough that it started slipping off his head. Kali's ears lifted in alarm. She grabbed the top of his scarf and yanked it forward, keeping his ears hidden.

Colorpoints weren't common around the Benz. If anyone saw his creamy fur and his dark face and ears, he'd be in far worse trouble than he was in now.

“How did you even find my house?" Kali asked.

Rinzaan's tail twitched. A nervous chuckle, as he took over straightening his scarf. “It's sort of a long story. But We have these books, these records, that we look after for other businesses sometimes, and, well, I found your house number there?"

“You found it in the books, because we owe the landlord." Kali's ears pinned. She wasn't sure which was worse. That he had found her house by snooping through books, or that he knew the extra month they owed.

Though he shrugged off the latter, saying, “It's not the worst one, if that makes it any better."

It didn't.

Kali sighed through her teeth. “Why are you here, Rinzaan?" she asked, a light growl in her voice still. “Why aren't you at Dockside?"

“You said you could show me around that one time," Rinzaan answered, his whiskers tipping up. “And I, well, I wanted to see you. I missed you."

Kali's tail lashed with whole-hearted frustration. As mad as she tried to be, her tail tip lifted with a giddy curl. She was annoyed, so very annoyed, but flattered at the same time. “Well, don't throw rocks at my house," Kali grumbled. “You'll get us both in trouble if you break a window. 'Mere, I can't believe you showed up like this." Her tail thrashed one last time, and Kali let her whiskers lift with a slight smile. “You know it's only been a week, right?"

“Don't remind me." Rinzaan groaned. He almost tossed off his hood again, rolling his head backwards, but he caught it at the last second. “It's been awful. The longest week I've ever lived. I wish we were back on the ship."

“Already?"

“Yeah," he said. “I'd rather be there with you than anywhere with my parents. It's just books and books, sign here, don't forget these extra lines, and do this and do that-"

“That doesn't sound so different from the ship."

“It just is! And I had to get away before they made me sign anything else." Rinzaan tossed his arms wide and flipped up his tail. “So, here I am."

Kali peered around the street, checking the cats nearby. No scabbards or hilts glinted at her. Though she still asked to confirm. “No guards?"

“No. I mean, I put on a scarf. No one's going to see me." Rinzaan gestured at his cloaked ears. “You said it wasn't too bad here, so I figured I'd be okay."

Kali's ears flicked. Now that he was already here, she wasn't sure she should correct him.

Most of the Benz was safe enough. But some streets weren't as friendly as others. Her street wasn't one of the friendlier ones. They just got by with Mikora's teeth and claws.

At least he was smart enough to wear plain, dark clothes and keep his ears covered. If he did, there shouldn't be an issue. Even if he looked slightly suspicious doing so at night, the only time a Benz cat could go without—and most Benz cats did.

“Well, you should be fine if I'm around." Kali swept away her own concerns with a swing of her tail. “So you came here," she said, a light purr in her chest. “Just to see me?"

“Yeah, I did." Rinzaan whiskers perked up, and he smiled. “And I'm glad I did, too. I didn't know you wore dresses."

Kali glanced down. 'Mere favored her again. By chance, she grabbed one of her nicer dresses. The hem was coming loose on one edge, and the green was paler than it once was, but it didn't have any tears or threadbare spots. No embarrassing, rough stitches to fix those tears or extra fabric sewn on to cover them.

The pants she wore, however, weren't so fortunate.

“I don't wear them on the ship. They're not good for climbing in, you know." She subtly pulled on the right edge of her dress, covering the mismatching patch above her knee. “I don't want to get tangled in nets more than I already do."

“That's a shame," Rinzaan said. “You look really nice in a dress."

Kali ruffled her skirt with a wiggle of her tail. She had trouble finding her tongue, distracted by the heat radiating across her whiskers.

She wanted to say that he didn't look bad, either, dressed in simple, dark colors. A simple compliment that she couldn't get past her knotted tongue. She was too scared her words would be nonsensical chirrups and trills if she tried.

“So," Rinzaan eventually said, turning his eyes back towards Kali's house. “Are you going to invite me in?"

All the excited tweeting that once threatened to flood from Kali's muzzle left in an instant.

Two pressing thoughts weighed between her ears. The first being how horribly messy their house was. Mikora's old yarn piled everywhere. Laundry sitting at the bottom of the stairs, waiting to be scrubbed. Dirty plates beside the sink, which Kali hadn't cleaned yet. And her bedroom was no better. All the beads scattered across her desk. Yet more laundry piled in a corner, too.

Then there was the second problem—Mikora wasn't gone for the night. And if she came back and heard them, stars forbid, Kali would never hear the end of it. Just like she never let Mikora forget her one-afternoon stand that kept waking Kali up, because they both wouldn't stop drunkenly giggling and yowling.

Kali's ears twitched as yet another thought passed. She looked back at the house and checked the street.

How long did Mikora say she'd be gone? One hour? Two hours? Did Mikora say exactly how long she would be gone for? Kali couldn't remember, and she hadn't kept track of time while whittling away.

“We'll go out." Kali motioned for Rinzaan to follow and took two quick steps ahead. “I mean, you don't want to stay in. It's your first time here. I should show you around."

The flicking of her tail neared a lash. Rinzaan followed, but he wasn't quick about it. He meandered along, and he even paused to glance back at her house while he considered. “I wouldn't mind staying in," Rinzaan said. “But I wouldn't mind seeing more of the Benz, either. It's so much darker here than it is on Dockside. I'm used to the stars lighting everything up like it's daytime. And it's cooler here, too."

Rinzaan didn't share her sense of urgency. The absolute opposite, as he paused at each house, eyeing the different idols mounted by each door.

And every time Kali checked behind him, risked a peek over his shoulder, she swore she saw Mikora's mismatched ears headed their way. Every single time, her pulse shot up. Her eyes tricked her. Because she didn't really see Mikora's ears.

It was her imagination, and her fears, getting the better of her. She saw other ears. Their neighbors mulling about the street and gossiping about each other, three cats that lived one street over and were heading home, a random passerby on their way to the docks, Mikora-

Kali's tail froze. Her eyes didn't fool her now. She saw them at the end of the block. One gray ear. One tan. The faint smell of crab confirmed it.

She grabbed Rinzaan's hand. There wasn't time to dwell on it, to think about how they hadn't held hands like this before. No time for shaky palms. She took his hand and rushed him past the last few houses.

“Why are we running?" Rinzaan asked, his ears askew underneath his scarf. “I wanted to see the other houses."

“We'll come back later."

“Why are you whispering?"

Kali stopped. Safe around the corner, she hissed under her breath. “Because I don't want Mikora to know I'm sneaking out with a tom," she said, still barely a whisper.

Rinzaan's scarf rustled, as his ears turned forward again. They both knew what she really meant. Sneaking out with a tom? That wasn't the issue. The issue was Rinzaan wasn't any regular tom off the boardwalk. He was a Dockie.

But Rinzaan was too entertained by her stiff whiskers and worried tail to care about the semantics. Blue eyes bright and giddy as he dropped his voice and leaned in close. “You always say I'm cute when I'm nervous. I think I get what you mean now."

He squeezed her hand.

Kali's tail fluffed up. Her forgotten nerves stirred, feeling his soft fingers against hers. How he whispered in her ear didn't help.

“Yeah, right," she muttered, trying to play off her embarrassment with a toss of her tail. “This is different."

Rinzaan chuckled. Again, right next to her ear. His whiskers brushed against hers as he leaned back. A stupid, smug grin on his muzzle. “Yeah. Sure."

Kali whipped her tail twice. An attempt to smooth out her fur, though she suspected it didn't work. His inadvertently husky whisper still crawled under her pelt.

That grin, and the uncharacteristic, self-assured look in his eyes, sent a little ripple of warmth through her chest. Though it didn't last for long. His confidence waned the longer they stood there, saying nothing, and his ears crooked at an angle. “Is something wrong?"

Kali chuckled. “No." She felt more at ease, now that his big awkward ears were in their usual place, and his lips weren't at her ear. “I forgot to say earlier. You don't look too bad, either."

Rinzaan's tail perked back up. Her smile restored some of his nerve. Kali shifted her grip on his hand, better linking their brown and gray furred fingers together.

“Stay close," she said. “The streets get crowded where we're going."

“And where are we going?" He asked, as he followed beside her, prompted by a light tug.

“Somewhere fun," she answered. “And somewhere far away from Mikora."

She quickened her pace to a light trot, and Rinzaan dogged after her. He grabbed the edge of his scarf, bracing it against the occasional breeze. The same breeze that brushed against Kali's whiskers and licked at her ears as she led them towards music.

“You can dance, right?" She called back to him, raising her voice over the growing crowds around them.

“Sorry, do I have a tail?" Rinzaan scoffed. “Of course I can dance."

“I had to check. I know some parties on Dockside are all drinks and no action."

“Well, I can dance," Rinzaan insisted.

He squeezed closer to Kali, as they snaked through the crowd. She could barely hear anything anymore, past the violins and all the cats trying to shout over them. Kali tightened her grip on Rinzaan. She wiggled between a couple cats and pulled until Rinzaan hopped out beside her.

He trilled once, upon seeing the sudden break in the crowd. Tails and whiskers twirling in every direction. Cats from every corner of the Benz gathered and danced together. Paired together, hand in hand, led by the invisible thread the musicians wove together. A simple eight-count dance, but to a casual observer, they moved with a collective precision that defied expectations.

Kali couldn't tell what the mystified expression on Rinzaan's muzzle meant. He probably didn't know what to think, seeing that many cats dancing on a random street corner. Much like she didn't the first time Mikora brought her there. All the dazzling skirts swimming before her eyes, scarves fluttering in the breeze, and the dashing vests and tabards left her in a similar stupor.

“Still know how to dance?" Kali asked, a wry grin picking at the corner of her muzzle.

He shook his head, clearing the stars from his eyes, and scoffed, “Of course I do."

“Good."

Before Rinzaan lost his nerve, and before Kali lost hers, too, she grabbed his other hand and swept him onto the dancefloor. That was the only way to dance in the Benz. Leap in and let the music do the rest.

With her claws hooked on his wrists, all Rinzaan could do was hold his breath and dive in.

A few awkward steps, as they both caught up with the song. In hindsight, jumping in halfway through wasn't the best idea. But Kali merely laughed as they struggled to match the cats that danced circles around them. Laughing at Rinzaan, his furrowed brow and pinned ears, as he tried to get them on track with more single-minded determination than she'd ever seen him show before.

Unfortunately, he was always a half step behind. Despite his best efforts. Kali laughed one more time. “Follow me."

She tossed his hand onto her shoulder. Two quick steps, and she had them in sync with the violins. Rinzaan's ears shifted forward, and his muzzle relaxed, whiskers falling with visible relief. His steps were still too slow, and his tail lagged and swerved instead of twirling and swaying—but Kali didn't mind. He could be the worst dancer in Benz, and she wouldn't care at all. As long as he continued smiling, that broad, bright smile contrasting his dark muzzle, the same way she did, they could trip and fall whiskers-first, and she still wouldn't twitch an ear.

“This isn't what I'm used to," Rinzaan said, missing another step as he spoke. “It's faster."

“Like I said. No action up there." Kali twirled them around, pausing a beat to tug Rinzaan's scarf forward on his ears. “I never see anyone Dockside dance the Goldenfalks."

“You know Goldenfalks?"

Kali grinned, showing the points of her teeth. A menacing reassurance that she did. She laughed again, as his ears skewed. “Don't worry! They don't play that until later."

He wasn't comforted. If anything, his tail was twitchier, and his feet dragged them further behind the other dancers. Kali corrected for both of them, pulling Rinzaan in closer. Skipping the next couple steps and guiding Rinzaan along.

The ends of their whiskers brushed together, and Rinzaan smiled once they fell in line again. “I'm taking the lead for the next one," he said.

“Even if it's Goldenfalks?"

“Hah! There's no lead in Goldenfalks." He squeezed Kali's hand and stepped forward, almost bumping their noses together. “I don't know the dance, but I know that much."

Kali smirked. “We'll just have to dance the Shipstep, instead."

That did it. Rinzaan burst into laughter, stumbling. And Kali laughed with him. She didn't bother keeping pace, while her partner laughed his whiskers off.

All cats knew the Shipstep. A two-step dance, the sailors called it. The first step was to drink until you couldn't feel the whiskers on your muzzle. The second was to fall flat and pass out.

The music faded for an instant. Long enough for a few cats to switch partners, if they felt like it. A few giggling couples left the dancefloor, to enjoy some solitary company with their partner.

Which Kali did frequently. She couldn't exactly charm toms with a look. A dance? She could charm any cat, tom or molly, with a dance.

Though none of them quite looked at her the way Rinzaan did, when the song ended.

Rinzaan plucked Kali's hand off his waist and dropped it on his shoulder. He twisted an ear towards the violins, following the quick swipes of bows and claws on strings.

Kali chirped her surprise, when he tugged her forward. A late start, but on beat. His tail was still too loose, trailing after with half-limp swishes, but everything else? Everything else was perfect.

They weren't completely in sync. He dragged on the slides and hesitated on spins, but none of that mattered. Kali couldn't hear the music anymore, or any of the surrounding cats. All she felt was the thrum of feet hitting the boardwalk in tandem and the best of her heart in her ears.

Rinzaan's arm slid farther around her waist, to her lower back. He pulled Kali a step closer, to where their whiskers mingled again. Not an easy way to dance, but Kali shuffled along well enough. Though now they both missed steps and mistimed moves. She found herself too lost in his blue eyes and the captivating smile on his brown muzzle.

She couldn't focus on the song anymore.

All she wanted to do was throw her arms around his neck and kiss the ridiculous grin off him.

The moment the song ended, Kali was ready to do just that. Prepared to leap into his arms and take his face in her hands and feel his smooth creamy fur between her fingers. Then she realized he wasn't grinning the same way he was before. How he bared his teeth, his tongue stuck out—it wasn't a goofy grin on his muzzle. He was trying to breathe.

“Are you okay?" Kali asked.

Rinzaan took several labored breaths before he answered, “Yeah. I, uh, thought they'd play a slower song." His hand slipped from her waist, and he pulled the front of his shirt off his chest. “I think I'm going to faint."

Kali laughed. Then frowned. That wasn't a joke.

She clasped his hand and searched for breaks in the furred masses. There weren't many places to sit. The couple benches were taken. The one restaurant with tables outside had every seat filled. But she continued looking, while she shoved their way off the dancefloor.

Kali ended up leading him farther away, and they stopped at a random house. A front step. A single block of wood, the only seat that wasn't occupied as far as she could see. Sandy and half-rotted, but Rinzaan took it anyway, falling on his tail with an exhausted wheeze.

Kali sat on the ground next to him. She tucked her tail close, hiding the nervous flick under her skirt. All she could do was wait and hope he felt better soon. As difficult as that was.

She tried not to stare at him. To not fuss like Mikora did whenever she wasn't feeling well. Though she only wanted to curl up around Rinzaan and rub her cheek on him until he felt better. Even if he only had the wind knocked out of him.

She watched the crowds. Distracted herself by observing other cats. More dashed into the fray, trying to get to the dancefloor before the next song played. A different cat dropped their meal on the boardwalk and hissed their frustration down at their sullied feet. A couple carried kittens on their shoulders, one on each, as they maneuvered through. Married, by the leather collars they both had on their necks.

“That's a lot different from Dockside."

Kali chirped. She looked at Rinzaan again, and her tail's nervous twitches subsided. He was still breathless, but not as bad as a few minutes ago. More like he normally was, when Masede made them run laps up and down the Sandstalker's deck.

“How so?" she asked.

“Faster," he said. “So much faster."

Kali chuckled. “You'll get used to it," she said. “And they do play slow songs sometimes. It just depends how the musicians are feeling."

Rinzaan's tail lashed once, dissatisfied with Kali's answer, but he still smiled. “I guess I can't really be mad about it. I did like watching your skirt with all the spins."

“Is that why you kept missing the next step?" Kali knew what the answer was, so she shook her head. “Well, if you want, you can rest up, and we can go back for a slower song."

“Yeah, I think I'll pass for now." Rinzaan's tail rippled, his fretfulness showing again. “I, uh, don't think I can keep up."

Kali's ears lowered for an instant. A flicker of disappointment, and she picked them back up for Rinzaan. “Yeah, we'll dance again some other time," she agreed, bouncing her whiskers back up with a quick smile. She hopped up onto her feet and brushed some of the sand off her skirt. “Can you walk? We can get something to eat."

The mention of food brought Rinzaan's muzzle up. “Yeah," he said. “I'd like that. I'm starved." His tail curled, and he pushed himself up off the house's front step.

She held out her hand, grinning from whisker to whisker again. An offer Rinzaan readily accepted. He set his hand on hers, his tail popping up with a giddy swish.

“So what are we feasting on?" Rinzaan asked. He bobbed his muzzle, nodding out towards the crowded street. “Shrimp? Oysters?"

Kali chirped out a laugh. “You'll see."

She gave Rinzaan's hand a quick tug and led him back into the crowded street. Away from the music, and the laughter and dancing that came with it. But, even if they couldn't dance together on the Benz boardwalk, as long as she had his hand, their fingers entwined and his smooth palm on hers, she could be happy with that.