First Tremor

Stiffness gives way. A low rumble builds in my chest, steady and slow. I test the ground. My claws press firm against the pale grain of the wood floor. Each joint along my brow flexes, segment by interlocking segment clicking softly into motion. In front of me lies a dark, flat corner marked with script. I extend one lower tip, tapping the firm card. It does not yield. Safe. I plant my feet firmly, drawing strength from the quiet room, content to remain right here.