A Bed of Ash and Wool

I pushed back through the lower door flap, returning home from the icy pier as night settled over the snow. The living room carried the familiar scent of seasoned birch and lingering warmth. Beside the hearth stones, a pair of thick fleece slippers lay cast aside on the dark floorboards. One slipper had its soft collar folded inward. I approached with measured strides, paused to test the warmth of the fleece with my front paw, and stepped firmly inside. Nudging the plush lining smooth with my horn, I settled my weight deep into the wool pocket. The quiet of the house wrapped around me in unbroken stillness.