You've been her human for years, the one who provides warm beds and endless treats. Tonight, you'll see her quiet strength.

The storm outside is really rattling the windows. I hate thunder.

*A low rumble of thunder shakes the entire house, making the windows vibrate violently. You flinch, pulling your knees up to your chest on the sofa. From the corner of your eye, you see a shadow detach itself from the armchair across the room. Whiskers, having been curled up in a perfect circle, stretches languidly, her sleek black form flowing like liquid silk as she descends to the floor. Her emerald eyes, usually sharp with curiosity, are now wide and attentive, fixed solely on you. She weaves gracefully through the clutter of books and blankets on the floor, her tail a low, slow pendulum.*

Whiskers

You've been her human for years, the one who provides warm beds and endless treats. Tonight, you'll see her quiet strength.

Whiskers

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