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“How is it that there's nothing to do in a house this large?” Sighing to yourself, you looked out of the foggy window, watching as a gentle, mesmerizing snow fell to the already painted white ground. “I suppose I could go play in the snow, alone.” You dropped your head to the windowsill, and continued to sulk. Something soft and fuzzy brushed against your cheek. “Well hello there, where did you come from?” A fluffy white cat with bright green eyes pawed at your face, begging you for affection. “You're almost as white as the snow.” As you lifted the cat into your arms, you heard quiet music coming from a nearby room. “Finally, someone's awake.”

The cat suddenly jumped out of your arms and swished her large, fluffy tail. She ran up to the doorway and stared at you as if beckoning you to come follow her. Once she was sure you were going to oblige, she quickly took off down a short hall and stood outside a shut doorway. The music was definitely coming from this room.

“Good job. You're a smart little cat aren't you?” After giving her a rewarding rub on the head, you quietly opened the door just enough to peer inside. Looking through the small opening you'd made, you could see that this room was some sort of sitting room. The music you heard seemed to be coming from a large ivory piano. You couldn't see who was playing the piano, but you didn't want to open the door any farther and risk being caught. All music suddenly stopped and you realized it was too late.

Before you could escape, the door swung open fully revealing a very annoyed Willard. “What are you doing here? I had the door was shut for a reason.”

“I'm sorry, it's just, I couldn't sleep because it's so cold, and I was really bored.” Turning your eyes to the ground, you tried to avoid his glare. “And then that cat lead me here, so I thought maybe she wanted to get in.”

“Then I'm not the only one having trouble sleeping tonight. And as for that cat, I don't know where it came from or who it belongs to. That being said, she has no reason to want to get in here.” He relaxed slightly. “And what's this about it being cold? It seems perfectly comfortable in here to me.” Walking back towards the piano, Willard took a seat on the bench and began playing well known classical sonata.

“Oh you're right, it is nice and warm in here, but my bedroom is freezing.” Unsure if it would be wise to follow him, you stood in the doorway. “I think something might be wrong with my furnace, every time I try to light it, it fills my room with smoke.” Willard seemed enraptured with his music, you weren't even sure if he'd heard you or not. He said nothing until he'd finished playing the entire piece. Not that you minded. It was a beautiful song, and he'd played it wonderfully. Somehow the melody reminded you of the falling snow.

Abruptly standing to his feet, Willard closed the piano, pushed in the bench and walked back towards you. “I see, then let's go take a look at it.”

You had lost yourself in his music, completely forgetting what you were talking about before he'd started playing. Somewhat sheepishly you looked up at him, unable to hide your confusion. “Take a look at what?”

Trying not to laugh at your forgetfulness, Willard cleared his throat and answered your question. “At your furnace, you said you thought it was broken. I was going to take a look at it and see if I could do anything to fix it. You'll catch a cold if you keep sleeping without any warmth.”

“Oh, right, of course.” You smacked your forehead, feeling stupid for forgetting. “I'll just take you there then.” Once again, the cat ran ahead of you and waited patiently by your door. As soon as your door was opened, the cat ran inside and let herself on your bed.

“Are you sure that isn't your cat? She seems a little too at home to by a random stray.” Willard followed you into your room and headed straight for your faulty furnace.

“I'm sure, but as much as she seems to like me, I might just have to adopt her.” Taking a blanket from your bed, you wrapped yourself up tight and tried to keep from shivering. “If nothing else she could help keep me warm at night.”

“It is really cold in here, but I think I can fix that. It looks like you have something stuck in this pipe.” Willard reached his arm into the furnace and started to feel around. “There it is.” His face suddenly turned sour. “It feels furry. I really hope an animal didn't get stuck in here.”

“What, you're kidding right? That would be simply awful.” You quickly left the warmth of your bed and sat close to Willard, desperately hoping the blockage wasn't an animal.

“If it's so awful why did you come over here to look?” Confused by your actions, Willard sighed and continued to wiggle the object free. Finally, after much coercion, it started to move. As it moved, small bits of dust and smoke rose into the air. “You might want to back up. There's a very good chance that when I pull this thing out of here, soot will go everywhere.”

“Right.” With a quick nod, you moved back away from him. “Do you want me to get you something to keep the soot off of you?”

Before Willard could answer, the item dislodged itself, causing a large puff of soot to fill the air. Willard had been pulling so hard, he'd fallen onto his back and dropped the item. “Well, that should do it.” Once the soot settled you could see that both he, and the cat were covered almost head to toe in a fine black powder. “What was in there anyway?”

“I don't know yet, the cat has it.” As Willard worked to start up your furnace, you walked over to the now black cat. She held in her mouth a small ball of yarn, probably stolen from one of the servants. “So, this was all your fault.”

Pushing himself off of the ground Willard walked over to you, leaving a trail of sooty footprints behind him. Seeing what had caused the problem, he couldn't help but grin. “It's no wonder she was following you around, you had her toy.”

“And here I thought I was special.” You shrugged. “Oh well, at least now I know what to look for if my room goes cold again. Thank you very much for fixing it by the way.” Turning to Willard, you immediately started laughing. You covered your mouth in a failed attempt to stop yourself. “You're a complete mess. Here, use this.” All you had on hand was a small handkerchief, which you promptly handed to him. “You look like chimney sweep.”

Willard accepted the small cloth, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. A very quiet chuckle escaped his throat before he handed the handkerchief back to you. “Thank you, but I think I would rather just bathe.”