No, he laid there, and he refused to get up. He refused. He was going to stay and bake in the sun and just not move.

And then the smell of her was strong again, on the wind, and he groaned, sniffing, and inching to the edge of the roof. And he told himself no, as he started to jump from roof to roof. Told himself no, as he snaked down a tree with hands and feet. Told himself no as he scaled another building, chasing after the smell of sweet and magic.

Told himself no as he realized she didn't go past the building he was on. No! He couldn't have lost her.

He tried looking down at the ground, but she was no longer on the street. He panicked for a moment. What if he did something dumb and she was about to catch him again? He took off to the roof of the building, hiding in a shadow and holding his chest again, willing his beating heart to slow down.

No. He was fine. He was safe. She smelled too sweet to be a danger. That was how that worked, wasn't it? The problems were always the ones that smelled fowl, like the Fox witches back home. He soon ducked around, down one side of the building, looking. Then to the back, looking over again. Where? Where did she go?

Like a cat looking for a lost mouse. He scurried over another side of the building, where he wouldn't bee so seen, and started to peek into windows. He told himself no. It wasn't worth it, and yet he was so curious. Did she live here? Was she going to trap him if he let himself get too close?

With ninja like skills, he moved silent, peeking into another window, hoping to catch movement or scent...