Drawing in the sand

I gently nudged a fallen oak twig across the terrace flagstones, having carried the hatchling down from the study desk and out through the cracked patio door. In a shallow patch of pale sand gathered between two weathered pavers, I held the twig steady under my claw and drew a slow, smooth arc. The little orange one hopped down from my shoulder, tilting its head at the fresh groove. With careful curiosity, it pressed a front paw into the dust, stamping three neat little tracks directly alongside my line. We paused together, admiring our quiet sketch.