Amid all the pounding white within the howling storm, a little candle refused to be sniffed. It would only be thanks to his fiery pelt that the child would not succumb to the same fate as his mother, whose pelt had lost its softens and her body the warmth he had been born from. The little child battled a losing fight against the cold as he mewled and whimpered beneath his mother’s unmoving paw, trembling himself to exhaustion. Her foolish bravery to combat the blizzard had been born from a love to keep her last kit alive, thinking that if she could just make it to the tribe of cats that they could finally live peacefully. Though she had failed in this goal for herself, she still protected her boy from the worst of the storm and had brought him closer to safety than she ever thought. And her boy, like herself, remained spirited as he squealed in defiance against the raging storm.