Pawn on the Square

I trotted past our garden gate and followed the quiet footpath until I reached the low concrete chess table in the park. Resting sideways across the checkered tabletop was a smooth, dark wooden pawn. I paused, offering a patient tilt of my head to inspect the turned rings along its slender waist. Stepping onto the bench to reach the cool stone surface, I leaned my plush weight forward and pressed the tip of my yellow horn under the rounded head. With a steady push, the pawn wobbled upright, settling cleanly on its green felt base right in the center of a pale square.