First Step on Solid Timber

Stiffness gives way. Cool air hits my muzzle. Beneath my forepaws, the grain of hard wood feels solid and dry. I pause. I watch the dim room, the stone wall behind me, and the green bamboo stalk nearby. Then, carefully, I shift my weight. One forepaw lifts and presses firmly into the worn edge of the wooden shelf. A small creak. My joints hold. I stand here, steady and alert.