Night Watch in the Ridge

A dark crevice opened between the sofa armrest and the cushions. Perfect for night patrol. Grrr. I stepped directly into the folded canyon of the wool blanket. Deep, quiet, and solid. Beside my tail, a stray TV remote lay buried like a glossy monolith. I leaned my shoulder against its rubber buttons—one clicked softly, but nothing leaped out. Good. I circled twice, tamped down the knit folds beneath my claws, and settled low into the warm valley. Perimeter secure for the night.