The Rustling Intruder

A sudden rustle broke the quiet. I bounded down from the table and made straight for the sunny windowsill. A potted fern sits there, green fronds quivering against the windowpane. I froze. Sniffed. Moist earth and sharp green sap. One low branch swayed, casting a darting shadow across the sill. Target spotted. I crept under the broad leaves and lunged forward, snapping my jaws shut on a dry, loose brown frond. Snap! It broke clean off. I pinned the crunchy leaf beneath my clawed foot, neck craned high, surveying the bright outside world.