The kitchen was a warm sanctuary when John stumbled back inside, his parka bulging with three tiny lives he had rescued from the hay. Fiona gasped as he gently unzipped his coat, revealing the silver-grey cluster. "Oh, the poor things," she whispered, already preparing a nesting box. She lined a plastic crate with a thick heating pad and soft cashmere sweaters, placing it near the woodstove's warmth. It was the gold standard for kitten rescue—a setup designed to revive fading life.