The Warm Mountain

I hopped inside from the cool deck and followed the irresistible smell of clean cotton straight to a giant wicker basket. Those woven slats were basically a climbing wall made for tiny claws! I scrambled up to the braided rim, spread my wings for a split-second balance check, and tumbled forward with an excited squeak. Flump! I sank belly-first into a towering pile of freshly dried waffle-weave towels. It was like landing on a heated cloud. I wriggled deep into the softest crease, tucked my wings over my tummy, and let the cozy warmth soak straight into my seams.