A Speckled Wool Ball

I crept along the polished wood of the bookshelf, moving past rows of upright volumes. In the dim corner between two heavy hardcovers, I spotted a soft, rounded bundle of speckled yarn nestled neatly in an open tin. I paused, holding very still. Could it be another creature resting quietly in the dark? Cautiously, I reached out a single plush arm and nudged its fuzzy side. It shifted slightly without a breath or a twitch, merely rolling into a deeper, cozier dent in the tin. It was not alive, but the soft wool felt comforting against my side, so I curled in beside it.