I see a room that served as a kitchen and which is abandoned, although a small fox seems to have taken it as a dwelling.
I feel that this animal may have been a pet of some witch and that is the reason why I am writing this story.
Source
The old stone kitchen lies abandoned, with herbs and spices scattered on the shelves, hearth and floor.
Intricately carved ceramic containers once held valuable essences and potions. On the ceramic floor, gourds and dried roots evoke past rituals of ancient magic.
On the largest gourd, a small orange-furred fox dozes with her head between her paws. A faint purring sound comes from her throat in time with the slow breathing.
Occasionally, an ear perks up restlessly, sniffing for an unusual sound or presence. But only the silence of absence surrounds it.
The fox had been patiently awaiting the return of her beloved mistress for days, weeks, perhaps months. A powerful witch of millenary wisdom who left one night to fulfil a mysterious task, promising to return soon.
But the days passed without her crossing the threshold of the abandoned dwelling.
As the dark and endless nights fall, the fox lights an old sperm candle to combat the darkness. Her small eyes remain open, peering out the door, while the shadows dance spectrally in the dim light of the almost extinct flame.
Curled up, she drifts into a state of slumber, ready to go out to meet her mistress at the first sound of her return.
For the witch's loyal guardian, guided by an endearing magical bond, is blindly confident that one day the door will open again and she will once more clasp her beloved mistress in her paws. How much longer she could wait, only fate will know.