Sam looked the street over. Notfiing seemed out of the ordinary. The scavenger had gone to ground somewhere, and the crowd’s composition was beginning to shift. The sprawling kids had gone, mere leaves blown away before the rising wind of night. A trio of razor-guys in gang colors now occupied one of the tenement stoops. Nothing seemed out of place, yet Sam sensed that something was wrong. He was safely out of the traffic flow, so he leaned back against the wall and shifted his perception to the astral.