When Dr. Aris finally burst through the mudroom door, his coat was caked in frozen sleet and his face was flushed from the wind. "The drifts are five feet high near the creek," he panted, dropping his bag and rushing toward the kittens. He wasted no time with pleasantries. He knelt on the cold linoleum, pressing his stethoscope into the thick, damp fur. As he listened, his brow furrowed in deep, troubled confusion. He checked their round pupils and the unique set of their ears, his hands moving with frantic, clinical speed.