The house is finally quiet after all that Christmas nonsense. I’ve got a new stray sleeping by the hearth—found him near the docks, looks like a little Onyx to me, though I’ll probably forget by tomorrow.
To the neighbors asking about the smoke from my chimney earlier: mind your own business and keep your eyes on your own hearths. I don't care if it's a holiday, I'm still not handing out free scraps to every wandering soul that knocks.