Ground Beneath My Feet

Stiffness cracked along my spine. Weight settled into my heavy claws. The flat wooden ground did not yield beneath me. Across from my perch sat a pale, bulbous fleece mound, quiet and motionless. I shifted forward, steady and unhurried. One claw reached out, pressing into the soft fleece of the faux pumpkin. It gave way, gentle and silent, before rebounding slowly under my grip. Solid. Calm.