A Speckled Pebble

I pushed past the screen door and walked along the warm garden earth until I reached the cedar bird table. Half-buried under a scatter of dry pine needles lay an oval river pebble, smooth and dark with tiny cream speckles. I paused, watching the dappled shade drift across its rounded crest. Moving with deliberate care, I extended one soft front hoof and gave its side a patient nudge. It tilted free from the damp grit with a quiet, hollow click against an embedded root, rocking gently before settling steady in the sun.