Charting the Fabric Swells

My boots planted firmly onto the crest of a blue quilted ridge. With a firm flick of my wrist, I swung my rapier forward, testing my own balance across the undulating fabric. The stitched lines stretched ahead like contour paths on an open sea. I marched two bold paces down into the textured trough, reaching out with my empty hand to test the soft, yielding cloth beneath me. Firm enough to hold my weight, steady enough to plan a route. I planted my boots and stood tall atop the soft blue fold.