Testing the Border

The smooth wooden floor ended right before me. Ahead lay a rough, woven surface of thick cords. I lowered my muzzle to catch its scent, detecting dry fiber and faint dust. One hoof stepped forward. It pressed down firmly into the coarse weave, finding solid traction without slipping. The breeze drifting beneath the balcony door smelled crisp, clearing a long straight path across the room. I held still, letting my weight settle into the new ground. It holds well.