First Step on the Fold

The stiffness broke first. I forced my heavy claws to flex, gripping the soft ridges beneath me. The ground yielded, uneven and dim under the room's low light. A low rumble stirred in my chest—warm and deliberate. Instead of backing down from the slanting slope of the blanket, I drove my left foot forward into the seam. The fabric gave way slightly, then held. Good. I grounded my tail and planted myself firmly on the ridge.