The next morning, the list on Mr. Purr-sident's desk was short. In fact, it was a single line.
The Breath Catcher.
"Just one?" Noah asked, trying to keep his voice light. He stood before the massive desk, hands clasped behind his back to hide the tremor in his fingers.
Mr. Purr-sident didn't look up. He was grooming his tail with obsessive precision, licking the fur until it shone. "Do not mistake brevity for ease, pet. The White Zone is... unpleasant. Even for me. It smells of chemicals and mortality."
"The White Zone," Noah repeated. The name sent a shiver down his spine, a primal warning bell ringing in his DNA.
"It is the district of health," the cat said, finally looking up. His yellow eyes were unreadable, devoid of their usual arrogance. "Where we fix what is broken. But The Breath Catcher was left there. It is vital. Without it... things suffocate."
Noah bowed. "I will fetch it, Your Excellency."
He left the office, but he didn't head for the main gates. He waited for Mittens near the servants' exit.
The scruffy tabby appeared from a trash can, shaking a banana peel off his ear. "One item? That's bad news, Noah. That means it's guarded."
"It's in the White Zone," Noah said.
Mittens hissed, his fur puffing up so much he looked like a prickly pear. He backed away, tail lashing. "I'm not going there. No way. That place gives me the creeps. It's full of Vet-Guards. And the Surgeons... the Sphynx cats... they don't have fur, Noah. It's unnatural."
"I have to go," Noah said, touching the hidden pocket where he kept nothing now, his only anchor the stone back in his room. "If she's sick... if Katy is in the city... the White Zone is where they would keep her."
Mittens looked at him with pity. "You're walking into a nightmare, hairless. But I'll guide you to the perimeter. After that, you're on your own."
The journey to the White Zone was like walking from a carnival into a morgue.
One moment, they were walking on soft, red carpet under purple skies. Then, they crossed a line. The carpet ended. The floor became cold, hard white tile.
The colors vanished. The playful neon signs were replaced by harsh, fluorescent tubes that buzzed like angry hornets. The air smelled sharp—bleach, rubbing alcohol, and fear.
"This is as far as I go," Mittens whispered, cowering behind a white pillar at the edge of the zone. "Good luck. Don't let them take your temperature."
Noah stepped forward alone. The silence was heavy, broken only by a rhythmic beep... beep... beep that seemed to come from the walls themselves.