The Thermal Ridge

A dense thermal ridge rose from the low basket on the rug. Heat radiated into the chill of the room. I did not bypass it. I drove my talons into the heavy folded cotton and hoisted my mass upward. The white terrain sank beneath my tread, compressing under my heel and sealing the steady warmth against my hide. I planted my weight and swept my tail flat across the summit. The heat seeps deep into my frame. The high ground is held. I claim the watch.