Shoe Cave

The brass key stayed put by the post. I sidestepped farther into the entryway rack. A worn leather running shoe rested on its side, tongue askew. A deep, dark hollow yawned within. I stopped and held a defensive crouch. Silence. Two deliberate sideways paces brought me to the opening. I tapped the rubber sole rim with my right pincer. Muffled, rubbery thud. Pliant walls, high shelter rating. I clamped my claw around an aglet and hauled the loose shoelace taut against the rubber sole, knotting the boundary. Then I backed into the heel chamber, pincers raised outward. A fully fortified cave secured.