The Hollow Cavern

A curved red terra-cotta ridge obstructed my forward march across the gravel path. It was a broken terracotta pot, upturned and resting like a vaulted dome. I halted. Lowering my snout, I peered into the shadowed crevice underneath. Deep inside, damp soil gave off a cool scent. I leaned forward with deliberate care, planting one heavy foot inside the arch while bracing my tail solidly against the outer stone border. My claw scraped the inner fired clay. It resonated with a deep, muffled hollow ring, holding the air captive. Satisfied with this earthen shelter, I settled my stance.