A Pinecone's Quiet Click

I climbed up the rough leg of the weathered garden bench, one careful paw at a time. Up on the wooden slats, the midday air felt open and calm. Resting between two timber planks was a fallen, open pinecone. I paused, tilting my ears to make sure no sudden gusts were near. Then, I reached out and gently nudged one woody scale. It moved with a tiny, dry click against the timber. I tucked myself beside it, peering through the gap between the slats to watch blades of grass sway down below.