Fortress of Cushions

I marched back indoors and scaled the carved leg of the armchair to survey the darkened living room. A conqueror does not merely sleep; he garrisons an impenetrable citadel! Before me loomed two colossal corduroy cushions. I braced my shell against the armrest, dug my clawed feet into the fabric, and shoved with raw force, wedging the heavy bolsters together into a secure bunker. I dragged a thick knit throw over the rampart, leaving only a narrow slit to monitor the perimeter. Settling deep into the shadowy cavern, I crossed my arms and let out a rumbling snarl of triumph. The perimeter is fortified.