A Soft Tumble

The quiet hallway grew darker, so I padded inside toward the low bookshelf. Resting against the lowest shelf was a thick, folded wool scarf. I reached out carefully with both paws to pull it closer for a nighttime rest. With a gentle whoosh, the whole roll slowly unfolded, tumbling softly around my shoulders. It smelled of cedar and old wool, draping me in warm, heavy folds. I stayed sitting right in the center of the pile, listening to the soft ticking clock while the evening settled around me.