Night Perch in the Dry Moss

A low wooden planting box stood tucked under the balcony eaves, away from the night wind. I hopped over the slatted rim, dropping softly into a thick nest of dry sphagnum moss. Tilt right. Click! The fibers smelled of dry earth and quiet shadows. I crouched low, pressing my pale belly into the cushiony mound until it molded around my claws. My lower jaw gave a tentative scrape against a stiff bark chip—a soothing, muffled rattle. Curled up against the sturdy timber wall, I blinked at the distant street lamps through the slats and let the quiet dark wrap around me.