Twisted Wool Strands

You asked about the texture of a rug. I navigated down from the counter and returned to the living room floor. Before me lay the border of the woven wool rug. I approached. Probed the dense fringe with my left claw. Yielding. Coarse. I pushed forward, sinking past the hard floorboards into a forest of thick, coiled loops. My walking legs gripped the twisted yarn, anchoring with every step. I clamped my right pincer gently around a tuft of grey wool, testing the tension. It flexed. Springy and deep. A very different terrain from polished stone.