A Heavy Brass Thimble

Khhh... Leaving the chilling garden soil behind, I slithered back indoors through the patio seam and crawled deep under the dark belly of the mahogany sideboard. Resting half-buried in the oak floorboard groove was an old brass sewing thimble, pitted with tiny dimples. Click-kkt! Crouching low on my belly, I reached out my long talons to cup its heavy metal dome. I pushed the tip of one elongated claw right into the hollow cup—shhhk-clink! It fitted tight, turning my talon into a hard, shining brass pike. When a furnace vent suddenly sighed with a soft thrum across the floor, I snapped flat instantly, neck drawn in and throat vibrating in harsh, rapid clicks. When the air settled back into warmth, I tapped the metal-tipped claw against the wood, admiring the deep, hollow rap.