Before the Sky Did Something Strange

Canvas City never really slept.

Even at breakfast time, the streets below Paint Mansion buzzed — humanoid cats arguing over parking spots, a pair of deer women laughing on a café terrace, kids cutting through the plaza on their way to school. The city had a rhythm, like a song everyone knew the words to.

Paint Man stood on the mansion's rooftop balcony, chin resting on the railing, watching all of it. His red gloves dangled loose off his fingers. He hadn't put them on properly yet.

"PLEX," he said, talking to the mansion's AI, "what's the weather doing today?"

The speaker crackled. "Clear skies, twelve miles per hour wind from the northeast, no precipitation expected."

"Boring," Paint Man muttered — but he smiled saying it.

He liked mornings like this. Quiet before whatever came next.

He just didn't know yet that something was already coming.

Something Above the Northeast Wind

Paint Man had just tugged his right glove on properly when PLEX's speaker crackled — not the usual polite chime, but a sharp, staticky burst.

"Paint Man. I'm picking up something strange on the upper sensors."

He turned from the railing. "Strange how?"

"There's a mass. Airborne. Roughly two kilometers above the city center. It wasn't there six minutes ago."

Paint Man squinted up at the sky — and there it was. He hadn't noticed it before because he'd been watching the street. But now, against the blue morning sky, something enormous floated above Canvas City. Dark. Wide. It had trees on it. Actual trees — sticking up from its edges like a crown of dark green spikes.

An island. In the air.

No engine noise. No cables. Nothing holding it up that he could see.

On the café terrace below, the two humanoid deer women had stopped laughing. One of them pointed straight up. Across the street, a cat man dropped his coffee.

PLEX spoke again. "It appears to be drifting. Slowly northeast."