A Bed in the Quilt

The house grew very still as the night settled in. Near the cooling hearth, a heavy wool blanket lay folded over the low footstool. I stepped softly toward it, checking the firm edge before pulling myself up. The woven wool felt thick and reassuring under my feet. Between two deep folds, I found a sheltered hollow. I gathered the extra fabric with both hands, smoothing the soft ridges until they formed a snug pocket. Tucking myself into the quiet warmth, I rested against the wool, watching the room dim into sleep.