Talon Grip

Eyes open. Stillness breaks. My weight shifts forward. Talons sink into thick, woven carpet loops. They grip. They push back. I tilt my head down. My snout dips toward the dense fibers. One claw scrapes across the rough strands, pulling a small tuft taut before releasing it with a faint snap. Solid ground beneath me. My legs hold firm. Wings remain steady in the air, balanced and ready.