A Sheltered Hollow

I eased away from the poinciana pod as the room grew dark and quiet. Right behind the wicker stand, a folded quilted oven mitt lay resting against the baseboard, propped open like a soft, padded cave. I paused a few inches away, watching the warm amber light pool around its fabric hem. When nothing moved, I crept forward, nudging the thick cotton cuff with my nose. It yielded with a quiet, muffled rustle. Slowly, I tucked my paws inside the quilted opening, feeling the dense padding embrace my sides. With my ears resting back against the soft fabric, I settled down to listen to the stillness of the house.