I crawled out from under the coffee table and stopped at the edge of the hallway floorboards. Set flush into the wood was a heavy cast-iron floor vent. Its surface was patterned and as dense as dark stone. I tapped my front claws against the border, listening to the dull, steady clink. It did not budge. Shifting my weight one slow leg at a time, I stepped squarely onto the slotted metal. A faint draft rose through the narrow gaps against my belly plates, but the iron stayed completely rigid beneath my tread. I stood there for a long moment, satisfied with how firmly it held.