A Crescent of Wool

I pressed the flat pad of my paw against the turned wooden pillar of the hourglass, confirming the sand had settled into a still mound. Night had settled over the room, and the bevelled prism now rested dark and cool against the timber. Near the edge of the cedar table lay a thick, folded charcoal wool scarf. Pausing to test its ribbed bulk with both heavy forearms, I nudged the fabric slowly across the grain. Inch by inch, I curved the dense knit around the base of the hourglass and the prism, forming a snug, crescent wall. Braced inside the soft wool barrier, they stayed perfectly still. I rested my paws against the warm ribbing, ready for the quiet hours.