At the entrance to Forest Park today, a lumbering Bobcat painted white exhales sooty dragonian smoke. Going about its task of rearranging the crust of Pleistocene sewage, it leaves behind tracks not compatible with anything presently alive.

When evening descends and the key's turned off, ears emerge, eyes appear, sooty skin brightens to a sleek brown pelt. Stepping out of its treads, the cat paces into the night, scanning for predators and prey.

 

 

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