Butters broke through the trees, following the etheric, silvery yarn of justice whose thread led him to a dealer of exotic animals. It wasn’t unusual for people to flee him, but going as far as the jungle seemed overkill. There were different challenges to chasing someone in a city of leaves as opposed to Big City’s buildings, cars and pedestrians. Here there was every opportunity for the perp to hide, to evade capture.

His luck wasn’t as such, however. Butters came upon him hiding at the base of a large tree. What kind of punishment would be suitable? He’d uncovered in the trunk of the balding, middle-aged man in a track-suit the dismembered corpses of seven different animal species ready for sale. He cowered below the big kitty in the fetal position, whimpering. Snapping his arms and legs would be the best route. That way Butters could carry him to the bakery for BakeSale to handle the rest. But he’d be no different from the monster himself, dealing in damaged live goods.

Ah yes. Vines hanging from the trees provided the necessary restraints so that no bones had to be snapped. Butters carefully wrapped the criminal up and tied the slack around his waist. It was painful being dragged across the jungle floor as Butters searched for his own tracks, hoping to find a way out. They were gone; fallen leaves covered any trail Butters made. He let instinct guide him, hoping cat gps would kick in. It didn’t.

Time was slipping as Butters pounced through the jungle. The man at the end of the vine was fully knocked out, having slammed into many trees. There seemed to be no exit to the jungle, no way out. So Butters began to adapt.

Tapping into the ancestral kitty lineage, Butters became one with the jungle. He ate insects crawling on trees and wore a loincloth in the place of his jeans. From vine to vine, he swung across the jungle, cautious not to cause his captive to crash into trees, but not avoiding it entirely. The silence was driving him slightly mad. Voices were speaking, but there was nobody to be seen.

Before long, Butters adapted. His two upper canines grew exponentially, providing him a much greater bite force to survive in the harsh conditions of the jungle. His fur arranged in a new pattern, better for camouflage amongst the leaves. He had become a sabertooth cat, the only one of the modern era. Just before he heard a new voice.

“Butters?”

It was a familiar voice. One he remembered from long ago.

“What are you doing?”

Butters clung to a tree with his claws fully extended. His head whipped around to see Bianca’s face between two trees.

“I’ve been looking for you for like an hour.”

Butters transformed into little kitty - only an hour? - and rubbed his head and body against her legs. Just behind her was a paved walkway and some grass. He tugged along the criminal on the vine into the open area where Bianca was. Behind him was a cluster of trees surrounded by plotted recreation areas.

“How’d you end up at Big City Park?”

The banged up captive took his chance to plead. “He wouldn’t stop following me. Please. You gotta help. That cat’s a monster.”

Bianca flicked her wrist to shoot some pink whipped cream which encased his head. “Shut your mouth.” She knelt down and untied the vine from Butters’ waist. “You go home. I’ll bring him to the station.”

The “jungle” called to Butters. When Bianca was out of sight, he receded into the small patch of trees in Big City Park and went full big kitty to enjoy some time as a prehistoric cat.