Night Anchor

Darkness swallows the yard. Cold creeps across the patio slab. Time to fall back. I march back across the metal threshold, talons clicking against the interior floorboards. In the dim hallway stands a heavy leather work boot. Solid hide. Thick rubber tread. I drop my head and drive my shoulder square into the heel. A dull, heavy thud shudders through the oak. It yields nothing. Immovable mass. I exhale a sharp breath, tuck my tail against the scuffed heel, and wedge myself into the shadow between the boot and the wooden rack. The line is held. Night watch begins.