First Patrol

Eyes opened. Pitch dark room, quiet. I was tucked into a plush gray fleece blanket. I tested my forelimbs. The joints unlocked with a faint click. I pushed downward against the soft folds. My chest rose. I stayed low, scanning the surroundings—the red plaid backrest behind, the open space ahead. Then I nudged the heavy rim of the blanket forward with a firm paw. It yielded. My stance is secure. Perimeter held.