To the rescue {starter 001}
It was a beautiful, yet cold day—the kind that made you second-guess your coat. The sun hung bright and generous in a pale blue sky, casting a golden warmth over everything it touched, but the wind cut through it all with a sharp, biting edge. It slipped beneath scarves and nipped at fingertips, turning every exhale into a soft cloud of white. That kind of day—deceptively gentle, quietly unforgiving.
Kristoff had always liked days like this. They made him feel awake, present. Like the world was testing him just a little, and he was more than willing to meet it halfway.
So before heading to work, he decided to take the longer route through the park. It wasn’t much of a detour, but it was enough to clear his head, to enjoy the crunch of gravel beneath his boots and the distant laughter of children bundled up on swings. The trees stood tall and bare, their branches stretching like dark veins across the sky, swaying ever so slightly in the restless breeze.
That was when he heard it.
A small, strained sound—thin and desperate.
Kristoff slowed, his brows knitting together as he turned his head, listening. There it was again. A soft, pitiful meow, carried unevenly by the wind. He followed the sound until his gaze lifted, and there—perched far higher than it had any right to be—was a tiny feline, clinging to a branch like it had made a very poor life decision.
“Oh no,” he muttered under his breath, concern immediately settling in his chest.
The cat let out another cry, shifting its weight nervously, claws gripping bark that didn’t look nearly sturdy enough. Kristoff stepped closer to the tree, tilting his head back to gauge the height. It wasn’t impossible… but it wasn’t exactly safe either. The branches looked thin the higher they went, swaying just enough to make him wary.
Still, he couldn’t just leave it there.
He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around the park. There were a few people scattered about—some walking, others sitting on benches, wrapped up in their own worlds. He hesitated for only a second before approaching the nearest person.
“Excuse me,” he called, his voice carrying a polite urgency as he gestured toward the tree. “There’s a cat stuck up there, and I’m going to try to get it down.” He gave a small, sheepish half-smile, already glancing back at the branches as if measuring them again in his mind. “But, uh… could you wait here for a few minutes? Just in case a branch gives out or something.”
His tone was casual, but there was a quiet sincerity beneath it—an unspoken I’ve got this, but I’d feel better if someone had my back.
Another soft meow drifted down, and Kristoff’s expression softened. He stepped closer to the trunk, flexing his fingers slightly as if preparing himself.
“Hang on, buddy,” he murmured under his breath, more to the cat than anyone else. “I’m coming.”
