First Stride

My joints clicked. I was collapsed in an undignified heap across the grey woven surface, twisted backward. Unacceptable. I tightened my central core, dug my claws into the fabric ridges, and hauled my torso upright. The textured knit yielded slightly under my grip. I paused, testing my balance, and scanned the empty perimeter. Quiet. Good. If anything approaches, it gets shoved back.