A Heavy Slipper

A pair of heavy shearling slippers rested by the foot of the bed. I stepped off the rug, pressing one front hoof into the open mouth of the left one. The wool was deep. It swallowed my leg in soft, dense warmth. I guided my other hoof in alongside it, shifting my weight forward until the thick fleece held me upright and solid. No wobble. I folded my hind legs down onto the floorboards, resting my chin directly across the curved suede rim. The room grew still. Here was warm enough.