The cat was a big orange thing, almost like a miniature tiger. It was sleek and well-fed, but had a harried look in its eyes.

It crouched low to the ground, looking almost as confused as she did, as they both tried to work out what had happened.

"You were hunting?" she whispered, not trusting her voice to go any louder just yet, and then she reached out a hand to the cat. "c'mere, I won't hurt you?"

The cat hesitated for a moment, and then with a flash of its tail, it was gone.

Rat watched it go, grief and disappointment warring in her heart. "Just wanted a friend," she muttered, drawing back her hand and clambering to her feet.

She sighed and instead tried to find what it had been hunting. Maybe she could tame a wild bird or something, if she was here long enough. Teach it to parrot back words to her. Pretend it was another person.

The tracks were easy enough to follow, hurried bird prints in the snow, little scuffs where it had brushed its wings against the snow. They headed forward for ten paces or so, before turning suddenly into the forest, and with a shrug, she started to follow them. Already they were starting to fill in, so if she wanted to find the prey she would have to be quick.

She didn't know why she cared. It wasn't like she was hunting it herself, she wasn't that desperate for food yet. And chances were, whatever it was would be long gone by now, but at least it was something different, something, anything to break up the endless monotony of the forest.

Still, the thought that there were other living creatures out there was a lightness in her stomach, the joy of finding out she wasn't alone only slightly tempered by the rush of bitter anger.

-

"Hello, little bird?" she called as she walked. She was following what appeared to be a well-worn path, now. There was less snow here, and although she had lost the tracks, she felt she was going the right way.

"Was it you earlier, with the red feathers? I just wnna be friends!"

She sighed as she kept walking. She had lost her quarry, but the path was both interesting and the first entrance she'd seen into the forest. Most of it was so dense with undergrowth that she couldn't have gotten more than a few meters in if she'd tried, which she hadn't.

A minute more, and then the forest opened up ahead of her.

-

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There was no wall surrounding the cottage, but there was a demarcation line around it and something that might have been a garden, in better weather, with raised beds and well-established plants. Behind the cottage was a single oak tree, and she could see the bird's footprints in the light dusting of snow, disappearing around the corner.

"Is this for me?"

She stepped forward, before hesitating. There was a thin whisp of smoke coming from the chimney, but other than that, all was quiet and still, with no signs of life. Human life, anyway, she could hear the chickens now, as she got closer.

Chicken were a domesticated species, which meant somebody was feeding them, right? She tried to think if she had ever heard of wild chickens, but she was pretty sure that wasn't a thing.

But then, what were the animals in the forest eating, apart from the orange cat? Were they all slowly starving to death, as snow blanketed the land, as whatever callous god had placed them here, into her own personal purgatory, left them to die? Or did they lack hunger, put here only as a backdrop and a soundboard?

She didn't like the thought of either of those options, and made a note to talk to god about it later.

"I guess I'll just let myself in, huh?" She hesitantly tried the door, finding it unlocked.

Inside was a large kitchen, with a big table in the centre and a six-ringed stove off against one wall. There was washing hanging from a sort of rack on the ceiling, and several pairs of boots by the door. The whole place had a cosy, lived-in feeling, and it was warmer than anywhere else she had been in a long time. Even in the before, she hadn't been anywhere this warm, and she swore she could see her clothes start to steam as she pulled the door shut behind her.

She glanced at the walls as she entered and spoke quietly to the house. "Well they're not a meter thick, but it'll do."

She peeled off her coat and laid over the back of one of the chairs, and some fiddling later, she had worked out how to add more wood to the stove.

"My gran used to have one of these." she fed in another piece of kindling, "she lived in the middle of bloody nowhere and had more money than sense. Used to get a new kitchen every few years, but this thing was too big and heavy and old to move. I don't think she used it very often."

She situated her backpack near the door, in case she had to make a quick getaway, and started raiding the cupboards.

"Should I be worried that somebody's gonna come home, that I'm in the giants kitchen?" she asked, as she started on the ones under the counter.

"If I find a giant harp in one of these cupboards then I'm outta here. You've already given me enough dried beans for a lifetime, I don't need no magic ones."

She struck gold, or rather, food, in one of the high-up cupboards. It was almost like it had been purposefully placed out of her reach, and she had to stand on a chair to access it. But in there, were paper packets of crisps, pasta, oats, more beans, and a frankly ridiculous amount of sweets.

She sat down on the floor in front of the stove, a huge jar of sweets between her knees, and started working her way towards a diabetic coma.

-

She spent a couple of hours in the cottage, enjoying the warmth of the stove and the jars of sweets, but she couldn't stay. The whole place felt strangely lived in, from clothes hanging off the airer to the half-made beds upstairs.

As much as she longed for company, she knew what people were like. She hadn't had that many bad experiences, in her few years of living on the streets, but she had had enough. Plus, who knew what weird, horror movie monsters might own this house? She didn't want to be eaten by the three bears.

So, around midday, she tidied up the cupboard, put the chairs back, banked the stove, and left.