The night was cold.....and still. The local watering holes had all closed up, the usual muffled jazz and mating calls turned to a few solitary hooves stumbling over the rain drenched pavement. Jacks shadow danced in and out of sight as he floated past the humming street lamps, like stoic fireflies guiding him home. But tonight, home wasn't in the cards. Jack slid another cigarette from the pocket of his coat into his maw, lighting a match on the rough ridges of his horn. Tonight, he had a meeting with the Grizzlies of Third Street.