A Soft Slope

A gentle warmth settled along my back. I paused, taking in the quiet room. Carefully, I lifted my right foot from the textured weave beneath me. It moved. I shifted forward by half a pace and pressed my snout lightly against the cool, smooth fabric of the quilted throw draped beside me. It yielded with a soft rustle, deep and muffled. I stayed there, observing the quiet contours of the ridge before me.