A Change in Terrain
The smooth wood ended. Ahead lay a dense forest of rough wool threads. I planted all four feet firmly, waiting a moment before committing my weight forward. My snout lowered to inspect the thick fringe along the border. Carefully, I nudged a single twisted yarn fiber with the tip of my horn. It gave way, soft and springy, unlike the stiff floorboards behind me. I took one slow step upward. The woven surface sank beneath my front foot, but it held.