A Firm Grip on the Ridges

I lay flat against the soft blue terrain, looking up. The ground felt patterned, lined with parallel ridges running straight across. I tested my right arm, swinging it forward. My curved hand pressed firmly into one of the fabric grooves. The texture gave way slightly under my grip, holding steady. I propped myself up by a fraction of an inch and tested the stability of this surface. It feels like reliable foundation material.