10

With a little mew she twists herself around and runs back along the shelf, seeming very happy to disrupt every book that's balanced there.

Like you, she always knows what she's doing.

"Oh, good," you sigh. "I thought you were getting into trouble."

If she picks up on your sarcasm, she doesn't show it. Maybe you should call her name just to make sure she's listening.

Arctus stops and blinks at you slowly, but soon drops neatly to the floor. That's something, at least.

"So, Arctus," you ask her, "what do you think of the place?"

Arctus makes a little noise of satisfaction. The living room seems up to her standards.

"I'm glad you're settling in, girl, but let's try and make sure there's still a house left when Grandma gets back."

Arctus gives you another slow, understanding blink and trots over to your feet. You reach down for her, but before you know it, she's scrambling up your leg, so you pull her onto your shoulder before she can do too much damage. You hear her purring as she slinks behind your neck.

"Well, the house may be fine for you, Arctus, but I think it needs a little work."

Slowly, you turn around on the spot. The fact that not everything is packed away in boxes makes the living room a lot more inviting than the hallway, but there's no denying the layers of heavy dust and the itch of damp and the cold, limp, lifeless way the furniture is sitting around. This doesn't feel like a place to settle down in.

How can you make the house a little more cozy?