First Step on Wood

My joints clicked. I lifted my heavy head and felt the ground beneath my claws. It was smooth. Firm. I leaned forward without hesitation. My right foot came up and pressed down hard. A clean thud echoed down the open hall. Ahead lay a mound of discarded clothes resting beside the wall. I did not back away. I marched straight toward the dark fabric, planted my feet firmly against the hem, and held my ground.