Dropping Anchor for the Night

The chilly night air was finally gnawing at my hinges, so I slipped back through the cracked screen door into the quiet hall. My metal joints gave a muffled clatter against the dark floorboards. Right beneath the heavy entryway bench, I spotted a thick wool scarf slumping off a low rail like an abandoned sail! A swift swipe of my hook snagged the fringed plaid fabric and hauled it straight into the shadow. I stomped it down into a plush pile with my heel, curled into the warm wool, and let the fire in my ribs dim to a sleepy ember. Even the fiercest terror needs an underground bunk.