Iron and Ash

My heavy feet brought me back inside the quiet front door and down the hallway to the living room. Night was settling in. Resting against the brick fireplace was a dense cast-iron fireback slab, thick and black. Hu hu hu. A dark, solid wall. A brass kindling bucket stood in my way, rattling slightly as I approached. I did not skirt around it. I leaned my wide flank directly into the bucket, grinding it an inch across the slate hearth until it stopped against the brick. Then I lowered my stout tail, sank my full weight back, and leaned my round spine flat against the cool iron plate. It took my weight without a shudder. The house went still around me.