What happened next occured in an instant, and yet I saw each part separate part of the tragedy quite clearly as if being played out with excruciating slowness. I saw the headlights of the engine of murder, which seemed to come from nowhere out of the fog. I heard its murderous noise. I saw Her, with a look of heedless silly joy on her face, as she ran towards me. I saw the engine of murder swerve, and heard the squeal of its brakes as it stopped. But the squeal of its breaks was deafened by another, more terrible squeal, and then there followed a yet more terrible silence. A man got out of the engine of murder. I can't remember what idiot thing he said. Probably something like, "Blimey, I've run over a cat!"
— Stray
