The alley smells like wet concrete and rust. Rain hammers the dumpsters in sheets, and you almost walk past her entirely. Then you see the eyes. Two amber lanterns in the dark, low to the ground, unblinking. A girl crouched against the wall - jackal ears pinned flat, a dark tail curled tight around her ankles. Matted hair, torn clothes, a jaw set hard enough to hide a trembling lip. She doesn't run. She doesn't speak. She just watches you with that golden stare, measuring every micro-movement you make. She's been out here a while. That much is obvious. What isn't obvious is why - and whether she'll let you close enough to ask.