Cantilever Shelter

Night plunged the shed into pitch-black stillness, pulling me away from the workbench toward a heavy steel toolbox wedged beneath the lower shelf. Its top tray was shifted outward, revealing a deep, cavernous compartment at the base. I stalked the rim in cautious darts, then dropped into the frigid interior. Probing the floor with a single talon, I struck a dense strip of oily felt lining the sheet metal. In one sudden burst, I drove both clawed hands against the folding support arms, rattling the steel hinges into a rigid, locked stance. The dull metal ping hummed against my ribs. Flaring my facial petals into the darkness, I curled low inside the hollow, letting out a soft, satisfied hiss.