Eliza pressed her forehead against the rattling window, fear tightening her chest. Orion, her gray cat with uncanny instincts, had vanished into the raging storm hours ago, leaving her pacing the halls of her dark, creaking house.
Finally, she heard a faint, desperate meow. Rushing to the doorway, Eliza found Orion soaked to the bone, crouched low with a crumpled piece of parchment clasped in his mouth. The paper was brittle, the ink smudged by time and rain. When she gently unrolled it, her heart skipped a beat.
Scrawled in spidery handwriting were dire words: references to a looming threat, warnings to seek shelter underground, and an urgent plea to prepare for the worst before morning. There were no dates or signatures, only a clear impression of impending disaster. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she realized this note pointed to immediate danger—one she feared might already be at her doorstep.