A Solid Stand

Stiff limbs. A deep rumble stirred in my chest. Ground under me felt coarse, dry fibers biting back. I flexed one heavy arm. Then the other. Pushed down against the carpet. Upright now. Ahead lay the edge of a thick, woven mat—bright streaks of orange and dark blue borders. Solid terrain. I planted one foot forward, testing the border's thick stitched edge with my claws. Firm enough. I hunkered low, holding my stance.