The Scout slipped through halls on silent feet shod with teeth. He lurked in shadows and heard the whispers of fear. Space Catz stowed him away on their Pounceships as they slunk behind enemy lines. His skull necklace murmured subtle secrets from the pasts of robots and goats. He is immune to her integers and merely watches as she drinks. The Scout knew that years of progress were falling away before the old superstitions.
Pen and ink on paper