The sun was setting, casting long golden rays across the forest path. The air was cool, and the wind whispered through the trees.
The master had been gone longer than usual. Bailey stood on the porch, ears perked. Gus paced near the gate, tail stiff.
“Should’ve been back by now,” Gus muttered.
Just then, they heard footsteps on the gravel path. The master appeared at last: his coat dusty, boots muddy, and something tiny cradled in his arms.
Both dogs trotted up to greet him, tails wagging.
But then they saw it.
A small, fluffy creature, with big green eyes, soft orange fur, and twitching ears.
Bailey barked. Gus growled.
“Master, drop it!” Bailey barked. “That’s a rat!”
“It’s not a rat,” Gus said, sniffing. “Too fluffy. Maybe a baby fox?”
The little creature trembled in the master’s arms, letting out a tiny squeak, not a growl, not a bark, but something else entirely.
“Easy now, boys,” the master said calmly. “She’s just a kitten. Poor thing was alone in the woods, cold and shivering. No sign of her mother.”
The dogs backed away, uncertain.
“A what?” Gus asked.
“A kit-ten,” Bailey repeated slowly. “Never hunted one of those before.”
The master carried the kitten into the house, wrapped her in a blanket, and set her gently near the fire. He poured a small bowl of warm milk and stroked her tiny head.
She purred softly, curling up like a ball.
Gus and Bailey watched from the doorway.
“I still say she looks like a rat with extra fluff,” Bailey whispered.
“And claws,” Gus added. “Did you see those claws?”
The next day, the master fed her soft fish. She followed him around the cottage on wobbly paws. She sneezed once and then pawed at a ball of yarn, making the master laugh out loud.
But the dogs remained suspicious.
They growled if she came too close. They kept one eye open while napping. Bailey even moved his bone pile a little farther from the porch, just in case.
That night, the two dogs sat outside under the stars.
“She’s up to something,” Bailey said, squinting toward the warm glow of the cottage.
“Definitely,” Gus agreed. “Way too quiet. I don’t trust animals who don’t bark.”
“She purrs,” Bailey said. “What even is that?”
“Some sort of spell, probably.”
They both stared toward the window where the kitten now slept on the master’s lap.
“What do we do?” Gus asked.
Bailey narrowed his eyes. “We watch. We wait. And tomorrow, we figure out what this creature really wants.”