Page 8 of Shielding Instinct

Apparently, he’d be sitting next to a Zen passenger. At leastthatworked in his favor.

Halo signaled to Max, and they were backing out of the plane to join Levi and Mojo on the platform, giving the flight attendant the space to move toward the disruption.

Hawkeye ducked under the luggage bin, stepping backward into his row, letting the attendant hustle authoritatively by.

By the time she passed, and he was standing in the aisle, the scene had changed.

The woman in the back had lost her grip on the cat.

The cat—a massive orange ball of pissed off—launched itself into the air with a hiss, landing on the seat back and using the available passenger head as a launching pad. That woman startled and screamed as first the front cat legs, then the back pressed into her scalp.

She lifted her purse and whacked at the menace.

“Stop hurting my cat! Don’t you dare hurt my cat!” The woman at the very back shoved at the person sitting in the middle seat as she flailed her arm to show she needed to get out.

The whole plane heaved in waves as each person responded—most with laughter, some cheers, dismay, anger, fear—it was chaos.

The cat zigged and zagged, evading the hands that reached out to snag it.

Hawkeye positioned himself in the aisle between the bulkhead walls to try to keep the cat from escaping the plane, which seemed to be the cat’s trajectory.

Hands held wide and at the ready, Hawkeye was biding his time.

Three rows down, a man, clutching a chihuahua that wore a tiny “emotional support” vest, batted the cat away.

The chihuahua waspissed, snapping his teeth and growling his rage.

The cat stretched its front legs long and smacked the chihuahua across the muzzle.

This momentarily silenced the chihuahua as it sat there with a stunned “oh no, you didn’t” look on its face.

While the chihuahua stopped barking, the other lap dogs seemed incensed for their fellow pup and took up the chorus.

The cat leaped to the aisle.

The chihuahua was in hot pursuit.

The other lap dogs cheered him on—as did some of the passengers.

Seeing this, the flight attendant dropped to her hands and knees, making a dam of sorts to trap the chihuahua.

Hawkeye glanced over to give Cooper the signal that whatever was going to happen next, Cooper needed to leave it alone.

But Hawkeye shouldn’t have been worried.

The Zen passenger must have raised the arms between the seats because Cooper was stretched out on the first two seats with his head in the woman’s lap, getting a gentle rub behind his ears.

It was the same technique that Hawkeye used to help Cooper relax, and she did it absentmindedly as she focused on the journal in her hand, her pink eye mask waiting ready on her forehead, the window shade already down.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hawkeye saw the kneeling attendant reach out to grab the chihuahua.

The chihuahua pivoted in the last second and dashed out of reach.

The woman lost her balance and splatted out flat with a “Haroomph.”

The gasps and calls that went out were peppered with laughter as the cat raced across the poor woman’s back straight toward Hawkeye.

Reflexively, Hawkeye made the grab, lifting the cat overhead not as a trophy but to keep the claws as far away as possible.

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