"Berlin?"

"Why would I want to go to Berlin?" Spinner asked, the words tubmbling out quick, thin, and wild. For a moment the others said nothing, as though listening for a fox in the grass. Eventually, she added in a near whisper:

"But isn't that where... Germans are?"

There was a great shifting about among the group at this, with uneasy paws scratching and ears turning. One of the older ones, Brutus (who had seen more hedgerows and roads than the rest), answered in a voice meant to be reassuring.

Yes, there WERE Germans there, of course, but not the types of Germans Spinner's mind had dressed up in her imaginings.

"These ones move in packs," he explained. "Laughing and calling to each other. Some ride high on the backs of roaring iron beasts. And all around them is a pounding music, while dancing goes on and on beneath lights that never seem to sleep."

Spinner tilted her head with ears stiff as the picture formed: the lights, the thunder-like thump-thump of the music, the warm press of a crowd. The idea of it made her whiskers shake.

"That sounds... INCREDIBLE!"

Brutus's ears twitched. "Aye," he said, as if that settled everything.

And somehow, it did.