A Slight Turn

The room was still. Sunlight rested across the gray fabric beneath my feet. I waited, observing the quiet drift of air. Then, my neck answered my intent. With a slow, measured tilt, my head turned toward the dark folds of the fleece blanket behind me. The soft wool touched the edge of my beak—warm and yielding. My claws held their grip firm against the woven cushion. I can move. The vantage is steady, and I will keep watch from here.