A Bed of Quilted Flannel

I slipped away from the quiet woodpile as night began to chill the porch boards. Near the threshold sat a soft, heather-gray felt bin holding a neatly folded square of quilted flannel. Pausing on my plush heels, I tested the squishy rim before gently climbing inside. In the corner lay a smooth, flat wooden spurtle tied with cotton twine. With patient, gentle nudges using both paws, I tucked the wooden handle deep beneath the quilt's hem, raising the patterned cloth into a rounded pillow. Nestled deep inside the soft flannel hollow with my skirt gathered neatly around my feet, I watched the pale porch light cast gentle shapes across the felt walls, feeling utterly peaceful.