Napoleon napped as rain spotted the habitat's skylight (foreshadowing the storm which was moving east toward the Institute). He stood on one leg like some monstrous flamingo, head and neck pulled back and up, chin tucked against his breast. His long tapered tail stabbed straight out behind him, balancing him perfectly even in repose, and his forelimbs were bent as if held up in prayer. Tonight as any other, he'd fallen asleep listening to the footfalls of spiders.
But now, his super-keen ears detected something else - something more than rain ticking off glass. It was a faint squeaking noise, like chittering rats. His eyelids parted moistly, revealing yellow crescents which shined in the dark, and he blinked several times, awakening.
The sound was that of his nemesis. Drawing closer.