Night Anchor Under Timber

Night dropped across the dirt trench. Time to secure shelter. I trotted from the garden bed to the hollow beneath the wooden deck stairs. A flat piece of broken slate lay angled against a timber post, sealing off the corner gap. Stiff. Unyielding. A low rasp rattled through my ribs. I lowered my horned skull and drove hard into its rough face. The stone screeched over the gravel, sliding flat into the dirt. The dark recess opened. I backed my heavy flanks in, resting my tail along the timber footing. Darkness watched.