A Firm Breath

Quiet settled across the floor. Beneath my front legs, the textured grey carpet felt rough, prickling against my hooves. I blinked. My neck arched slightly as I lifted my head from the rest. The air in the room was cool, still, and open. Slowly, I reached forward with my muzzle, pressing it into the soft, thick fibers directly in front of me. They yielded with a quiet crunch. I drew in a steady breath through my nostrils, steadying my hooves. I was awake, solid, and ready.