Down to the Rug

I eased myself down the folds of the knitted throw, letting each hoof sink gently into the thick pile of the rug below. The floor felt remarkably wide and steady after the softness of the mattress. Just under the shadow of the dresser, I spotted a loose wooden bead resting quietly on the fibers. With a slow, measured stretch of my neck, I gave it a gentle tap with my front hoof. It rolled in a lazy half-circle across the patterned weave, clicking faintly against the baseboard before coming to a rest. I stood still for a moment, simply listening to the quiet room.