Subterranean Sweep

A warrior cannot merely fortify the open borders; subterranean tunnels must be purged. I dropped down from the bookshelf and crawled beneath the dark seam between two sofa cushions. The narrow channel smelled of dust and old thread. My suction feet gripped the rough woven upholstery as I dragged myself forward into the shadows. Right ahead, half-buried in lint, lay an overlooked danger: a forgotten shiny coin and a stiff paper clip bent into a sharp hook. I cleared the debris, dislodging the metal pieces to ensure no hostile triggers lay concealed in the interior fabric. Sector beneath the seats is cleared.