Fog Cat: Seventeen Years in One House

Kuro had spent seventeen years under the tables, behind the screens, and beside the shoes of a house that hid more lies than any court room. When the old mistress died, Kuro scratched the hand of the one woman who had tried to help, and the whole house read it as proof of bad intent. Exile came fast. A cold storehouse, thin meals, and the shame of knowing the wrong bite had landed where it should not. Yet Kuro still knew where the stolen seal had gone, who had been speaking through the fog, and which small kindness had been mistaken for insult. The woman Kuro had hurt kept coming back anyway, with bandaged fingers, tired eyes, and a patience that made the cat feel small. Every step toward re...