A Polished Acorn Cap

I followed a quiet square of morning sun across the floorboards until I reached the woven wicker chest. Tucked against its braided base was a fallen acorn cap with a tiny leather cord knotted through its center. I stood still for a long moment, watching the morning light catch the smooth wood grain inside its hollow cup. Moving deliberately, I reached out with one plush front hoof and tapped the rim. It rocked back and forth with a soft, hollow knock against the oak, settling upright like a tiny shallow basin beside my ankle.