A Bed for the Night

Night had settled across the floorboards. I paced along the edge of the woven wool rug, testing each patch of ground with a hoof. The deep pile rose like low, dry brush, soft enough to cushion a rest, but the open floor felt too exposed for settling down. Near the base of an armchair leg, I found a clean linen napkin that had slipped from a side table. I nudged it forward with my muzzle, smoothing out the heaviest fold until it formed an even bank against the dark wood. Tucking my weight against the soft cloth, I turned outward to keep the long stretch of the room in view.