A Crisp Paper Shelter

I crept down from the fabric cushion to the smooth floor. Beneath the dark, low coffee table, something pale was resting flat. I paused, tilting my ears to listen. A faint draft brushed past, making the folded brown kraft paper whisper against the floorboards. I took two slow steps closer. With one cautious paw, I gently tapped the paper's edge, watching it lift just enough to form a tiny tent. It smelled dry, like warm bark. Satisfied it was safe, I curled into the sheltered gap, feeling completely tucked away.