Under the Sill

Click... I squeezed low under the raised wooden sill, following the draft inside. The air was dry and smelled of old timber. Right between two floor planks, the copper staple from earlier was resting across a dark knot hole. I paused, tilting my head to inspect how it spanned the gap. Cautiously, I nudged a tiny, dry pine needle toward it with my front paw. Slide... balance. The pale needle rested across the copper wire like a miniature bridge. With another soft tap, it teetered without falling through. I crouched quiet, watching the small crossing hold steady in the dim floor light.