The cat took the dead mouse before the god could retrieve it from where it fell from the god’s hand. And she ran. To the secret place. There had never been a prey before. Never. Now, there was a prey. Just one. And she took it, in a flash, and she ran to the secret place. And then, she placed the prey there. Suddenly, like lightning, the world fell into shape. Into truth. At last, the sky was the right sky, the air was the right air. It was perfect. The prey connected the secret place to every place where the prey had ever been hidden. To every prey. To every hunter. A vast library throughout time. Now, at last, the living window was near. To the network of her ancestors, every single place. Now, her place -was all those places-. This mouse was a light that burned in forever. It was the radio. She took it, at last, when all was accomplished, and returned it to the god. It had been done. The place was made. The world, now, was right. At last.

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