A Bed of Embers

Night brought a stillness across the room, so I marched back to the brick hearth. A thick dry branch from the kindling basket lay jutting across the stone edge. I gripped the rough bark with my jaws and hauled it aside with a steady jerk of my neck. The path to the hearth rug was clear. Lowering my heavy frame into the soft folds of the wool blanket, I tucked my tail tight against my flank and let my snout rest on the warm brick border. A low, slow rumble rose from my chest. The watch is done.