The gap narrowed around its body.

One hind paw slid against the floor.

Then it settled low again.

Daniel felt urgency rise into frustration and forced it back down.

The animal was frightened. It was not refusing him.

He could reach the chair before he could reach the cat.

That mattered.

Keeping his movements controlled, he caught the nearest part of the chair and shifted it away from the cabinet. The legs scraped across the floor.

The cat flinched but stayed where it was.

The space opened.

For the first time, Daniel could see its whole body.

The orange fur looked dull beneath the gray light. Its mouth was closed now. Its eyes tracked his glove without the quick, restless movement they had shown at the window.

He reached again.

This time his fingers touched its shoulder.

The cat jerked backward.

He stopped.

Mara glanced toward him, then into the room.

They had an opening. They had the animal within reach.

They needed one careful movement to finish what the window had delayed.

Daniel changed the angle of his arm and lowered his hand toward the cat’s side.

It raised a paw.

For a second, the small claws caught in his glove.

He let them.

Then he brought his hand beneath its chest.

The cat twisted.

His other arm came forward to support its body, keeping it from slipping back toward the cabinet. It was warm beneath the fur, lighter than he expected, and suddenly very real in a way it had not been while hidden behind glass.

He drew it toward the window.

One back paw caught briefly against the inner edge of the sill.

Mara moved closer.

Daniel lifted a little higher.

The paw came free.

Then the cat was outside.

No triumphant sound followed.

No great movement.

Just a small orange body held carefully between two soot-marked gloves.

Mara had a clean towel ready.

They wrapped the cat loosely enough to avoid struggling with it, supporting its body as they moved away from the window toward the clearer part of the yard.

Daniel looked down.

Its eyes were open.

That was the first thing he noticed.

The second was the movement beneath the towel.

Small.

Uneven.

Still there.

A crew member brought over the animal oxygen equipment while someone contacted an emergency veterinary service. Daniel stepped back enough to give them space, but he could not make himself look elsewhere.

A minute before, he had been unable to reach the cat.

Now it lay within arm’s length, and he was waiting again.

Waiting for another breath.

Another movement.

Some sign that being outside had come soon enough.

At the front of the house, a woman stood beside the gate.