Claiming the Hearth

The balcony grew cold as evening deepened, so I withdrew past the sliding door to reclaim the inner territory. In the living room, a thick knit blanket lay heaped like a soft hill upon the corner of the sofa, illuminated by the low golden glow of the floor lamp. I leaped from the cushion, planting my sturdy claws into the heavy wool ridges. Beneath my chest, the deep yarn gave way with gentle resistance. I used my horned snout to bulldoze a firm trench into the folds, hollowed out a sunken nest, and settled down squarely against the warm fibers. The night patrol has ended; the hearth is won.