By morning, the storm had turned the outside world into a white desert, but inside, the farmhouse felt warmer than ever. Fiona sat on the rug, gently lifting the smallest kitten—a round, silver puff of fur that felt surprisingly heavy and solid. "You need a name," she murmured, cradling it against her sweater. As it looked up, Fiona felt pure affection. It was undeniably beautiful, with a face more expressive than any cat she had owned. Its fur was incredibly dense and soft, and its large, round eyes watched her with a calm, soulful gaze.