Nightfall at the Fort

I marched back past the ribbon shield, holding that tiny strawberry postage stamp safe between my front paws. Night had quieted the whole house. I set the stamp flat against the front of our sock wall, right next to the brass washer, so our fortress looks official from every angle. Then I gave my twin's still shoulder a solid, friendly bump and squeezed myself into the warm fold beside them. Resting our strawberry pebble right over my toes, I folded my hands over my chest and let out a soft monster snort. Everything is defended, and our post is locked tight.