First Stride

The speckled stone beneath my claws felt cold. I did not move at once. I scanned the perimeter. Straight ahead sat a bright turquoise plastic crate, still and silent. I flexed my right knee. A subtle click broke the silence, and my joint gave way to deliberate forward momentum. One step. Then another. My claws clicked sharply against the polished granite as I closed the distance. Reaching the smooth blue wall of the crate, I extended my forearm and touched the ribbed plastic. It remained solid. I pulled back, lowered my stance, and watched.