First Weight on the Fabric

Eyes opened. Heavy light from the window. Still. Then, a pulse inside my neck. I lowered my snout. The ground beneath was strange. Soft. Not rock. I shifted my forelimb forward. Claws sank into the slick blue cloth. It gave way beneath me, folding into ripples. I exhaled a low rasp. Tested the give of the surface again with a deliberate press. It held, yet yielded. Solid enough to stand. I remained low, waiting, feeling every small breath.