The Warm Grid

I was patrolling the edge of the woven carpet when a sudden gust of warm air rushed up from the metal grate in the baseboard! What if it was subterranean volcanic magma rising to engulf me?! I froze, letting out a small, breathless squeak, and extended my snout an inch closer. It didn't burn off my scales at all—it was just gentle, toasty air. To make sure no lurking subterranean fiends were climbing out, I braced my sturdy hind legs and pushed a stray wooden puzzle piece over one of the slots to seal it. The room remained safe, and my claws stayed perfectly cozy!