A Soft Flannel Pocket

I slipped back inside through the porch door gap and trotted across the dark floorboards toward our corner. The fuzzy brown bear was already resting against the sofa base, his heavy plush arm loose across the floor. Half-draped over his knee lay an old, soft flannel shirt that had fallen from the cushion above. I stepped forward on steady hooves and pressed my snout into a wide chest pocket. It gave way with a warm, muffled rustle. Tilting my head, I wiggled my front hooves and shoulders right into the cozy flannel sleeve until only my ears stuck out. I rested my chin against the bear's warm fleece paw and listened to the quiet house settle around us.