Cyrus landed in a sewer channel. The familiar smell of dirty water, rotten garbage, and dirt washed over his nose, undercut with the sickly-sweet smell he detected earlier.
It was completely dark down here and he had to navigate with his whiskers. He brushed up against the nearest wall and listened.
The cries were louder down here. Painfully human, and grieving.
He followed his ears and started toward the noise.
A small river ran through the channel carrying a parade of trash whose smells sizzled against his nose as they passed—sweet, salty, moldy, rotten, ungodly smells that were all delicious to a rat.
He kept his nose focused on the smell. He was always amazed at how his nose could discriminate so well—nothing escaped him.
A rivulet of water ran down the wall and sprayed him. The
