Catscratch -

The scratching stopped. A long pause. Then a single, clear word: “Company.”

The basement stairs descended into perfect, absolute black. No smell of damp earth or old preserves. Just a stillness that felt hungry. Catscratch

He pressed his ear to the cold wood. The voice was soft, dry, like paper being torn. It was not Scratch’s voice. Scratch had no voice. Scratch only had claws. The scratching stopped

But tonight, the scratching was relentless. It wasn’t just annoying. It was inviting . A rasping whisper between the scrapes: “Leo… Leo… let me out.” Catscratch

Thrrrp-scrape. Thrrrp-scrape. Leo. Leo. Let us in.