First Step on the Fibers

My joints clicked. Soft ground underneath, not stone. I tested my right arm, wheels turning against the grey carpet threads. Good traction. Ahead, a blunt brown snout rested motionless. I pushed forward, claws digging in, closing my open jaw just enough to test the grip of the air. It yielded. I stopped, surveyed the room's low perimeter, and set my footing firm.