Luna the Panther and Venya Meet Their Favourite Vovochka
It had been snowing for days. The world outside looked like a silent dream, the trees draped in soft white coats and the sky forever the color of unspoken thoughts. Inside their cozy house at the edge of the woods, Luna the panther sulked on the windowsill, her sleek black fur outlined by the cold glass. Her tail flicked in irritation.
Venya, a small fox with eyes full of cleverness and mischief, sat curled near the fireplace, pawing through a crumpled book of riddles. He glanced up at Luna and sighed.
“He’s late,” said Luna, her voice low and velvet-smooth. “He always comes on Tuesdays.”
Venya nodded. “Maybe the snow stopped him.”
“Nothing stops Vovochka,” Luna replied, almost defensive.
And it was true. Vovochka had a way of turning up, even when the roads disappeared under drifts or when the wind howled like lonely wolves. Vovochka was their friend, their very favorite one. Not because he brought treats—though he did. Not because he told stories—though they were wonderful. But because when he was near, the world felt more alive, as if magic tiptoed closer just to hear what he might say.
Just as Luna’s tail whipped in one last irritated arc, a soft knock came at the door. Venya leapt up with a yelp, and Luna slid from the windowsill like a shadow that had grown too impatient.
Venya threw the door open, and there he stood: bundled in a red scarf too long for his frame, snowflakes clinging to his lashes, and that crooked grin that always made things feel like spring, even in the dead of winter.
“Vovochka!” both creatures exclaimed, pouncing on him in joy.
He laughed—really laughed, from his belly, as if the cold was just a game. He dropped a small cloth sack on the floor. Out spilled dried berries, roasted chestnuts, and a tiny wooden whistle carved in the shape of a rabbit.
“Had a bit of trouble getting through the forest,” he said, brushing snow from his cap. “A snowdrift tried to eat me.”
Venya sniffed the chestnuts. “Did you defeat it?”
“With honor,” Vovochka replied, bowing. “Though I had to bribe a squirrel to show me the way.”
Luna purred and brushed against his legs. “We missed you.”
“And I missed you, too.” He knelt down, his fingers brushing behind her ears in that perfect spot only he seemed to know.
They sat together by the fire, nibbling snacks and trading stories—some true, some not, and some somewhere in between. Luna sprawled across Vovochka’s lap, content at last, while Venya practiced tunes on the whistle with proud, squeaky determination.
Outside, the snow softened, as if pausing to listen.
Inside, all was warm. Whole.
And if anyone had peeked in just then, they might have wondered: who was Vovochka, really? A boy, a wanderer, a magician?
But to Luna and Venya, it didn’t matter.
He was theirs.
Their favorite.
Always.
