Poppy

The sunlight caught a dust mote. I swore it was a fairy.

Inside, the air shimmered. This was no ordinary house. It was an atelier — once the grandest in town.

So the kittens hatched a plan. If they had to go to town for “design daycare” to keep safe, then they would make the most of it.

Crooked,” said Violet, wrinkling her whiskers. “Magical,” corrected Poppy, her eyes sparking.