CatBee’s eye went wide with terror. "Go. Now." Its voice lost the little-girl tone, replaced by a grinding, urgent growl. "The Prototype knows you are here. It always knows."
It slowly, deliberately, turned its paper to face him. On it was a crude drawing: a stick figure with a boxy chest (his GrabPack), standing next to a smaller figure with wings and stripes. Above them, a single word, written in shaky, child-like letters: poppy playtime for free
The CatBee stopped humming.