Viktor arrived at the apartment building as the temple bells struck ten o'clock. In the dark, one of his feet brushed against something hairy and wet. Viktor stopped and took a step back.
The unearthly luminescence of the moon illuminated even the darkness of the street, where the light devoid of shades stripped the object of all its color, but in spite of that it was unmistakable.
Erich's cat lay dead in the street. His skinny body was unnaturally stretched out. Hideously black blood stained his spiky ginger hair where the wagon wheel had passed over him.
Seeing such an incongruous image momentarily distracted Viktor from his own worries and anguish. Erich would be greatly affected. For some strange reason, he adored that grungy stray cat.
Viktor bent down and scooped up the cat's body in the cape. The pungent acrid smell of the dead animal assaulted his nostrils even more strongly than the smell of burning fat from the plaza.