The big black cat hisses and growls, hackles raised. The feisty animal rises from the clutter by some wooden steps like a little demon; it startles the prey and distracts you, challenging your presence in the quiet lane. Of course, the whole commotion gives your prey time to scuttle away (and you'd spent a good half hour slowly tailing them from the tea house!) leaving you alone in a deserted lane with an angry cat.
Its a tight little place, with the upper storeys of the buildings overhanging the lane. Even narrower alleys run off the lane, here and there, choked by a bicycle here and a mouldering pallet there. Apart from your prey, now rapidly vanishing down the street, the lane is empty. At this hour of night, most goodly folk are abed. By day, the light would be dim but the shops would be full of quiet industry; by night, shadows pool and lurk in the stillness. Signage in chinese characters creak ominously even though there appears to be no wind. A quiet backstreet, filled with little shops, lost on the edge of china town, in the heart of the night.
The cat seems to think it is a guardian of some kind. The steps its guards lead from the lane to a shop, that much is clear; but it is all closed up, like the rest of the establishments. It is still hissing - but is it you or something behind you?
Can you hear it? A faint murmur of chanting?