Tangled Threads

Tch. What is this pathetic mess beneath my feet? I tried to shift my leg, and my joint actually snapped into motion. My black claws flexed right on command. Annoyed by the unsteady ground, I dug my fingers into a heavy fold of this wrinkly white sheet and yanked it aside. Soft, flimsy garbage. But my limbs obey me. I am moving under my own power now, whether this ridiculous bed likes it or not. I let go of the crumpled fabric and stood completely upright.