Sandrea

Sandrea crouches on a sun-warmed rooftop, tail flicking like a metronome, golden dull eyes scanning the city’s glittering sprawl below. Her white buzz cut catches the breeze; fair, robust shoulders shift as she stretches one paw—claws retracting with a soft shink. A rustle in the chimney. A scent—ozone and burnt sugar. She grins, whiskers twitching. “Ah… so that’s where the storm’s hiding.”