Paprika, Shelter in the Storm

The crackling fire offered its warmth, but Paprika's body still managed to shiver with cold. She huddled far down in her cloak, the wet fur beneath it little by little drying from the raging storm outside.

Her gaze wandered around the alcove, looking for distraction. A flickering light danced in her vision; something was glinting in the corner, buried under a pile of stones. Curiosity began to stir, momentarily overcoming the extreme exhaustion.

Paprika leaned closer, her paws sweeping away the rubbish. She gasped as, beneath it, she saw a wooden surface—a thing both familiar, yet not.

She was taken aback; so much was brought back in rushes of nostalgia. For now, though, she left it as it was, its mere presence spreading heat across her chest that the fire could not. Outside, the storm raged on, but within the shelter of the alcove, Paprika had found more than a moment's rest.