A Speckled Feather

I slipped through the cracked balcony door to feel the open breeze outside. Up on the concrete edge of a deep flower planter, something light was fluttering against the dry soil. I crouched low, stalking forward until I was right above it. It was a single speckled pigeon feather, caught beneath a smooth gray river pebble. I tilted my head, gave a quiet chirp, and tapped the quill with my front claw. The feather twitched free in the breeze, swirling once before settling quietly across my front paws. I tucked it neatly against the base of the plant to keep.