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Ryan Brownstone was walking along the sidewalk on his way home from the club. It may have been due to the alcohol, or it may have been because he was lost in thought, but the man didn’t seem to notice a couple of figures that were slowly following behind him. Soon, Ryan found himself shoved into the alleyway. “Oof! Hey, what the hell?!” he shouted after landing on the pavement. He turned his head to see two figures blocking the way out. “Well, well. What have we here?” one of the figures said. “You should have stayed back in your own realm, human,” the other one added. “What? Look, I don’t want any trouble. I just want to get back home,” Ryan stated while sitting up on his knees. “Well, I’m afraid you started looking for trouble the moment you set foot in our realm,” said one of the figures. He appeared to be a short but muscular guy with green skin and long, pointed ears. As he spoke, he pulled out a knife.

It was dark now. Big Paul, a veteran sheepdog, was already at guard, guarding the sheep. (Hey, what did you expect?) It was still relatively early after sunset, so everything was quiet, though not too quiet, and Big Paul could already smell someone familiar. “Red,” Big Paul called out to that specific someone. “Come out of the grass – I can smell you!” “Yes you can,” Red, a male red fox, did look out of the grass, though he kept his distance, given the size difference between himself and Big Paul. “So what? I am not harassing your sheep, and there are not even any lambs. Piss off!” Big Paul frowned. “This is what I want to talk to you about,” he told Red. “Everyone and everything seem to be more on edge lately than normally; is it because of the dry spell, or not-?” Big Paul did not finish, as a breeze brought a wisp of a scent to him – bobcat! Big Paul had his own opinion of the wildcat – unlike red foxes, bobcats were quite capable of killing even adult sheep, (if they got lucky)