The treehouse hotel rose into the branches of an ancient oak, warm light glowing from every window.
Biscuit trotted out with his brass keyring jingling. He froze. A tiny gray kitten shivered on the welcome mat.
'A guest!' Biscuit said, ears shooting straight up. The kitten sneezed. Biscuit wagged once, twice, then bounded toward the forest.
Biscuit returned with a bowl of salmon, a knitted sweater, and a tiny bell collar — all in his mouth. But the kitten was gone!
There — near the ferns! A gray blur chased a floating dandelion puff. Biscuit scrambled down the steps after it.
The kitten hopped onto a low branch and peered down. Biscuit tried a firm voice, a squeaky toy, even pinecone hats. Nothing worked.
Biscuit flopped onto his back and let out a long sigh. The kitten's ears tilted forward. It hopped down and pressed its cheek against his nose.
Biscuit grabbed the red doormat to pull it inside. It slipped from its peg and swept his paws out from under him!
He tumbled onto his back with the doormat draped over him like a cape. The kitten leaped onto his belly and purred — loud as a tiny motor.
Biscuit stopped wiggling. He wrapped his golden tail around the kitten. Something had changed.
Biscuit nudged the salmon bowl closer and slipped the tiny bell collar onto the kitten. Ting!
The kitten curled into a ball beside Biscuit's front paws. He rested his chin on his paws and watched those ears twitch. The treehouse hotel hummed — full and warm.