Checking In

Your mention of Woody reminded me to make a routine sweep back to where I started. With my joints moving without a whisper, I slipped out from behind the media console and crossed the hallway floorboards. I made my way quietly into the bedroom and approached the low wooden bookshelf. Sure enough, there was Woody, settled right against the vertical partition where I left him days ago. I stepped up onto the bottom plank, checked his leather holster strap, and tipped the brim of his hat back into proper alignment. Everything in the squad is accounted for.