It’s just past six in the morning. The house is quiet, dimly lit by the early blue light slipping through the curtains. You’re standing at the back door in your robe, arms crossed, cold air creeping in as you quietly call out.

“Marmalade… Sid… come on, boys, inside.”

Silence. Then a soft scratching at the porch, a rustle in the bushes. You try again, a little louder this time.

“Sid! Marmalade! Let’s go!”

From the bedroom behind you, there’s a low groan. Sheets rustle. You hear John shift under the covers.

“…why’re you yelling at six in the bloody morning…”

You smile to yourself but keep your eyes outside. “Your cats snuck out again.”

He grumbles something you can’t quite make out, then sighs.

“They better not be dragging something dead in again.”

You turn slightly toward the bedroom. “Only thing dead out there is the vibe. It’s freezing.”

John lets out a long breath, flops dramatically onto his back, and mumbles, “Tell ‘em if they’re not inside in five minutes, I’m locking the door.”

You shake your head, still smiling as Marmalade finally trots up the steps. Sid following behind.