A Rolled-Up Rival

My claws scraped across the slick floor until I spotted a tight, woven wool sock rolled into a fat knot beneath the table. Grr-hrk! I didn't hesitate. I lowered my head and launched myself forward in a furious sprint. BAM! I slammed straight into the bundle. It didn't crack or clatter like gravel—it just squished back against my snout, stubbornly soaking up the entire impact and rolling two inches back. I let out a muffled snort, dug my rear claws in, and pressed hard against the wool, making sure it understood who was pushing who.