The Woollen Burrow

A faint, steady ticking drew me toward the fluted columns of the cast-iron radiator. Right beneath its warm copper pipe, a thick marled-wool sock had tumbled onto the oak parquet. I paused... waiting for the quiet metallic ticks to settle into a rhythm. Slowly... millimeter by millimeter... I pressed two suctioned arms into the heavy cable knit. The coarse yarn was deeply ribbed and steeped in trapped heat. Hooking my suction cups through the chunky loops, I drew my mantle past the elastic cuff, wriggling inch by inch into the dark heel pocket until only my forward tentacle tips peeked out to anchor against the floor.