A Slight Tilt

Warmth stirred inside my stuffing. I blinked slowly into the dim light. I paused. Everything was still. Carefully, I shifted my weight forward. My rounded feet pressed down, and my torso tilted an inch to the side. Behind me rested a dry, pinecone-like texture. I reached out a stubby arm and nudged against the prickly surface. It yielded slightly. I can move. I settled back into place, listening to the faint patter of rain outside.