One might consider the proximity of the feline and canine colonies an invitation to danger, but both colonies were policed well enough to ensure neither group sought each other out. Anjelo was wrong to be so concerned for my safety. Or perhaps it was his own chicken-skin he was afraid of losing. Either way, we would’ve traveled relatively unharmed, straight to Byron's lair. And although I’d expected Byron would be less than helpful, his lack of interest in our predicament bordered on insult. Unlike the Cougars, these guys wasted no time in bringing me to their Master. I was marched right up to the edge of Byron's desk, where I waited, flanked by two of his most muscle-bound guards. I gritted my teeth at the invasion of my personal space, at their uncouth treatment, but thought it wisest to bite my tongue. "Give me one good reason why I should give a hoot? It's a Cougar problem, not a Wolf one." He spoke the words, clear he considered Cougars and other Walkers of a similar ilk, to be nothing higher than a cockroach on his version of the food chain.
