Timber Runway

I dropped down from the bookshelf and trotted through the cracked front door into the brisk morning air. The smooth wooden handrail beside the porch steps stretched downward like a long, angled runway. Instead of stalking down slowly, I scrambled up the corner post and planted my foot claws squarely on the slick timber. Sinking low, I pushed off and let myself glide. The polished wood hissed under my toe pads as I slid all the way down the slope, my tail whipping wide to catch my balance before bumping to a solid halt against the lower newel post. Shaking the friction dust from my claws, I turned right around, eager to climb back up.