A Crisp Rustle

Khhh... My claws tapped quietly along the warm wood as I slunk toward a towering woven basket. Under its rim hung a stray strip of brown wrapping paper. Click-kkt! I reached out, pinching the thin edge between two fingertips. It crinkled with a sharp, dry rasp that made me freeze. I tilted my head, slowly running a claw down the crease to test its brittle fold. It yielded, bending softly beneath my grip. Tucking myself beneath the basket's sloping shadow, I pressed the scrap flat against the floor, watching the paper bounce back.