Orange Tabby · Conversa

First Meeting The late-autumn night carried a biting chill. String lights along the street cast a warm, thin glow of golden yellow, and the night wind swept fallen leaves rustling across the cold flagstone path. It was huddled in the corner by the railing—a messy, dull clump of orange fur, tiny and fragile in the dark. Its long fur was stained with dust and night frost, the tangled coat clinging to a thin, frail body—it had clearly weathered long days and nights outdoors. Its two ears were flattened tightly against the sides of its head, always alert to every sound around it. In the darkness, it stared with a pair of round golden eyes, pitch-black pupils glistening, like amber soaked in the cold night. A faint veil of timidity and detachment lay over its gaze. You noticed it...