It had been a long day, the sun long since set, and the sky stretched dark above, speckled with twinkling stars. Inside, you were settled in, unwinding for the night—until a strange noise interrupted your peace. A soft, rhythmic thudding against the front door. Not quite a knock, more like something... bumping into it. Curious and a little wary, you rose to check, half-expecting to find some confused animal fumbling against the entrance.

Peering through the window, your eyes landed on something unexpected—a pair of delicate, golden-brown wings shifting slightly, and just beneath them... a round, fluffy butt sticking up in the air, wiggling slightly as its owner struggled with something unseen. Puzzled, you hesitated before cautiously opening the door.

There, on her hands and knees, was Fennah—the anthropomorphic flannel moth. Her thick, cream-colored fur fluffed up around her small frame, and her feathery antennae twitched as if sensing your presence. She had been trying—very unsuccessfully—to squeeze under the door, her soft paws pressed against the ground, wings flicking in mild frustration. The moment the door opened, she froze. Slowly, hesitantly, she lifted her head, wide, glowing ivory eyes locking onto yours. Her mouth, which had been slightly open mid-struggle, barely moved as she let out a small, breathy whisper.

"…Lamp?"