“Gone for supplies. Back tomorrow. Don’t burn the place down. — Vikulya”
That was all the warning they got. And so, for the next 24 hours, the household would be in the hands of three very questionable caretakers: Venza, self-proclaimed survival expert with the attention span of a squirrel; Vova, earnest but clumsy and easily distracted; and Luna the panther, majestic and graceful… until food or feathers were involved.
The morning began with Venza confidently announcing he’d make breakfast. “We’ve got eggs, right? How hard can it be?” he said, cracking one directly onto the counter.
Vova, eager to help, tried to fry the rest but forgot to oil the pan. Within five minutes, the kitchen smelled like a crime scene. Luna, sitting on the windowsill, twitched her nose, let out a disapproving snort, and gracefully exited the room—only to return a minute later to steal a slice of half-burnt toast when no one was looking.
“We should clean,” Vova offered, spotting flour on the floor.
“Great idea,” said Venza, tossing him a broom like a javelin.
Cleaning went exactly as you’d expect. Vova knocked over a bucket of soapy water, and Luna, investigating it, ended up sliding through the puddle and skidding across the room like a four-legged bowling ball. She crashed into a stack of firewood and emerged with a single stick balanced on her head like a crown.
“Queen of the Chaos,” Venza muttered, barely suppressing laughter.
Around noon, they tried laundry. The washing basin was filled, clothes were dunked, and everything was going smoothly… until Luna decided one of Vikulya’s cloaks was a chew toy. By the time they wrestled it back, it looked more like modern art than clothing.
“Maybe we should… take a break?” Vova suggested, panting.
“Yes. Let’s do something productive—like reorganize the weapons rack,” Venza said, eyes gleaming.
That idea lasted ten minutes before Vova accidentally unsheathed a sword upside down and nearly trimmed his own boots. Luna, sensing chaos, leapt into the pile of gear, pawing at swinging straps and dangling belts like a giant kitten at play. By the time they were done, the rack looked like it had been looted.
Still, the trio was undeterred.
As the sun dipped low, Venza finally declared, “We need a feast.” He and Vova attempted stew, mostly edible, and set the table. Luna, clearly done with all their efforts, curled up on a chair like royalty awaiting service.
When Vikulya returned that night, she opened the door to a bizarre scene: dishes stacked precariously, the scent of scorched eggs and wild herbs still lingering, a sword stuck in the wall, and Luna—wearing the chewed-up cloak like a sash—purring on the table.
She blinked.
“I was gone one day,” she muttered.
“Everything’s under control!” Venza said with a grin.
Luna let out a proud mrrow, as if to say, You’re welcome.
And honestly? The place hadn’t burned down.
Close… but not quite.
