A Strand of Silk

I hopped from the woven stool onto the smooth lid of the cedar chest, where an open wicker sewing basket rested. Balanced right against its woven rim was a small wooden spool bound in pale blue silk thread. Approaching with measured strides, I extended one front claw and nudged the notched rim. The spool rolled forward with a soft, hollow hum across the polished grain, unspooling a slender ribbon of thread in its wake. I paused, folding my wings neat and still, watching the loose filament settle flush against the warm wood.