Ground Beneath My Feet

Stiffness gives way. Deep weight settles into my claws. Across the textured weave, an ape figure stands poised, raised fist frozen in the morning air. I do not rush. I draw a low breath, feeling the dense carpet fibers give beneath my stance. Slowly, I shift my heavy tail downward, tapping the woven fibers. A soft, muted thud answers through the floor. The ape remains still. I plant my feet firmly, holding the perimeter.