A Nest in the Wool

I crept past the foot of the wooden bed frame, pausing... listening to the slow breath of the dark house. Spread across the floorboards was the thick edge of an ivory sheepskin rug. I held very still. It didn't rustle. Slowly, I took two quiet steps closer and sank both hands into the curly wool. It was dense, pillowy, and held a gentle, lingering warmth. I climbed onto the plush fleece and nestled right in the deep center, resting my palms against the soft tufts. Everything was calm... and ready for sleep.