No amount of bribing would allow Izo to bring an Amur Tiger into the plane. But by that point I'd calmed down and didn't need too much convincing. I changed in the jeep, ignoring the petrified looks of our chaperones, pulled on my clothes, and let Izo guide me forward with a hand around my neck.

The sudden onslaught of noise and pollution bombarded my senses, and I made a conscious effort not to bolt. I wouldn't have made it far. We crossed the tarmac of the parking lot, voices, car and plane engines buzzing all around. People unloaded trunks, walked to and from the block of a building before us. I'd never seen an airport before. There were a lot of things I'd learned of but never seen in the world and, taking in the harried atmosphere of more people than I'd ever encountered, I didn't think I wanted to see anything else.

I looked towards the sky. Slate-gray clouds had rolled in, making the cold wind bitter instead of refreshing. Maybe it was my mood doing that, though. I shivered, wrapped my arms around myself, wishing I was in my fur. The hood of my coat overshadowed my face, as Izo wanted to save my exposure to the world till the absolute last minute.

We swept in through the front glass doors just as the first snow flakes of the season floated down to earth. The artificial heat blasted rudely into my face, the bright, yellow light blinded me. I covered my ears instinctively to protect them from the offensive noise. Izo smacked me lightly on the head. I drew my arms back down.

The pair of us were immediately joined by an entourage of Izo-trons that blessedly stole his attention from me, if only for a few moments. They pushed trollies of luggage behind us, vied to tell Izo his bit of information before all the others. They reminded me of dogs trying to please their master. They were at his beck and call; he didn't have to say anything when he wanted something, a slight movement of the hand or inclination of the head was interpreted and met with competition to fulfill his every whim. He strode through the terminal like he owned the world. I highly doubted he didn't believe it, either.

I made eye contact with a few of the men, which was hastily avoided. I knew many of them, seen them just the day before. They probably felt guilty, not to mention afraid for their lives. I'd ceased being angry at Izo's lackeys a while ago, however. I understood the power Izo had over people, and couldn't bring myself to hold it against them. I would be a hypocrite if I did.

One of them approached me tentatively.

“Miss Kisa? This is your passport and ticket,” he said, handing me the official papers. The passport was blue, American. I was curious to see what had been used as my picture and signature, seeing as I hadn't been involved in this process, so I opened the stiff, plastic cover. There was a profile shot of my face I had absolutely no memory of taking. Probably computer generated, though no one would guess. It looked exactly like me. I didn't even care to think about how he swindled my signature out of me. There were no stamps anywhere. I wished it could stay that way.

I looked at the ticket next. A direct flight to Hartford, Connecticut. First class. So that's where my new prison was. I tucked the ticket into my passport, my passport into my coat pocket.