A Rolled Barrier

I dropped from the mantelpiece ledges into the lower hearth shadow. A rolled wool draft stopper lay curved across the stone threshold, blocking my corridor. I approached low, tail extended straight behind me for balance. Scenting cold drafts from beneath its weave, I planted my sickle claws against the rough fabric and shoved with my snout. It gave way with a dry scrape, rolling two inches aside to reveal a narrow pass toward the floorboards. Corridor cleared. My path forward is open.