Snow was silently falling on the rooftops of the town. Susan was decorating the Christmas tree with her dad and their cat. The scent of gingerbread filled the room, and the lights twinkled like little eyes. A red letter to Santa was waiting on the windowsill. In the kitchen next door, Grandma was stirring borscht. Suddenly, the golden star at the top went out. "Is that a sign?" whispered Susan to Purr. A white, petal-like feather drifted down from the ceiling. "There's someone walking on the roof!" cried Daddy. Susan grabbed a torch and wrapped a red scarf around her neck. Together, they climbed slowly up the stairs to the attic. Purr ran ahead and meowed softly. Hoofprints shimmered in the dust, glistening with snow. A small box, tied with a ribbon, trembled beside a crate. A sound like a silver whisper came from within. Susan touched the bow, and the lid quivered. Then – knock, knock – someone tapped on the roof above their heads. The doorknob creaked, and the torchlight flickered.