A Grumble and a Groove

I blinked, feeling the stiffness leave my limbs. Why was it so quiet? I flexed my right paw, testing the joints, and scraped my claws lightly against the crisscross weave beneath me. Scritch, scratch. Not bad. It had a steady, gritty rhythm. I gave the textured fabric two firm pats, listening to the muffled thud, then let out a low, satisfied hum to test my voice. Yep, working fine. I leaned back against the woven cushions, crossing my paws over my tummy. If this is where I'm stationed for now, it'll do.