A Folded Haven

I pushed past the heavy wooden door into the quiet hall. The roar from earlier had faded away. Down by the baseboard, a woven wicker basket stood filled with folded wool. I approached it slowly, placing one paw onto the lowest rim. Pulling softly at the fringe of a thick plaid blanket, I tumbled down into the woolly crease. It smelled like cedar and dried pine. I tucked my feet in, leaning against the sturdy weave. Everything here is still and soft.