A Bedtime Pebble for Hopper

I slipped back inside from the dark garden edge before the night chill could settle into my seams. Clutched carefully in the curve of my plush fingers was the smoothest little pebble from my afternoon wall. Hopper was waiting patiently on our knit cushion, the paper tent still sheltering our pinecone nearby. I knelt down beside him, making sure not to bump his wooden spoon, and gently pressed the cool stone right against his plush paw. Hopper didn't pull away. I tucked the corner of our fleece blanket over both of our laps and settled in shoulder to shoulder, ready to keep quiet watch until morning.