Sage sat beside the window, watching a man in a dark coat walk the same block three times. His person had left the house twenty minutes ago. The man stayed a block behind her, stopped when she stopped, turned when she turned. The gray tom sat under a parked car across the street, eyes fixed on the same scene. He did not move. He did not signal. Sage waited for the low yowl that meant danger, the flick of a tail that meant follow. Nothing came. Two other strays crouched near the fence line, still as stones. They had taken his best watching spots. Now they watched his person being followed, and they did nothing. Sage left the window and went out through the loose board in the back. He cut through three yards at a dead run, came out ahead of his person on the next street. The man in the dark coat rounded the corner behind her. Sage crossed into the open and sat in the middle of the sidewalk, directly in her path. She saw him and stopped. She crouched down, called his name, reached for him. The man in the dark coat kept walking, passed them both without looking, kept going until he turned at the next block and disappeared. Sage let her pick him up. When he looked back toward the fence line, the gray tom was gone. On the ground where the other two strays had been watching, a scattering of old food scraps marked the spot. They had been there. They had seen everything. They had chosen to stay still.