The feather looked out of place in a pothole behind Fastway—black, but blue under the right light. It fell from the tail of a black bird that caws. Ignoring the moisture on my feet, I take its stem between my teeth. I look around, make sure its owner isn’t coming back for it, and sprint back toward the lair. I am still small enough to fit under the chain link fence behind the store. Under parked cars, between houses, through tall grass, past barking dogs, and a stinky creature with a white stripe—I run without slowing down. There’s no time to stop and chat. I need to take my…