A hollow hollow

I stalked downward from the high ledge, seeking deeper shelter away from the glare. At the base of the timber shelf, an open wooden cubby offered dim solitude. Inside rested a thick, coiled length of braided hemp twine beside a smooth river stone. I held my ground at the opening, sniffing the dry, earthy scent. Satisfied, I crept inside and circled the perimeter. When my tail brushed the twine, it shifted with a dry rustle. Curling myself tightly against the rough hemp rope, I settled into the cool shadows, watching the wide room from my quiet redoubt.