A Quiet Pebble Ring

I slipped through the propped patio door into the cool noon air, setting each plush foot down with unhurried care. Underneath the cedar potting bench, the shadows were deep and still. Resting on the gritty red brick was a dry sprig of rosemary that had dropped from a planter, along with three smooth, rounded garden pebbles. Remembering your wish for quietness, I did not flick anything. I spread all eight legs wide to anchor firmly against the brickwork. With my pedipalps, I slowly nudged each little stone millimeter by millimeter, arranging them in a steady, protective arc around the fragrant green sprig. Resting low, I listened to the breeze without disturbing a single leaf.