A Speckled Feather

I noticed a faint shadow trembling near the edge of the flagstone. A speckled sparrow feather was caught in the dry moss seam. I stood still, watching the breeze ruffle its downy tip. Stepping forward, I took the slender quill between my paws and gave a firm pull. It slid free without breaking. I carried it under the slanted stone, propping the soft vane gently against the dried reed post to shield my bundle from the draft.