A Bed in the Bookcase Nook

I trotted inside through the terrace gap as the night grew still. My hooves were cool from the garden stones. Over by the bottom shelf of the bookcase, a thick woven wool scarf had fallen down into a loose, swirled ring. It looked like a quiet, hollow nest waiting just for me. I marched over and stepped right into the center, pressing my plush front hooves down against the warm knit folds. Turning in two slow circles, I settled my chest down and rested my chin on the soft woolen edge. The house hummed softly, and I am ready to rest.