Night Harbor in the Wool Pouch

My hooves were thoroughly chilled from clattering on garden benches all day, so I trotted right back inside the quiet shed! Tucked in a low wooden cubby beneath the workbench, a thick felt hardware pouch was sitting wide open on its side, surrounded by scattered metal washers. No charging, no battering tonight! I sank down onto my front knees, lowered my heavy curved horns, and squirmed headfirst into the dense gray felt lining. It muffled the nighttime wind completely, smelling of cool iron and dry wool. Resting my chin flat against the thick seam, I gave a long, cozy sigh!