A hollow between roots

I wandered off the gravel path toward the wide trunk of an old oak. Deep between two thick surface roots, a quiet hollow had gathered a bed of dried pine needles. I paused, watching the dappled shade sway gently over the bark. Then I lowered myself down, tucking my little hooves neatly under my body. The needles gave a soft, cushiony rustle beneath my weight before settling flat. The rough root supported my flank, perfectly steady. I rested my chin down on the dry earth and let the quiet afternoon hum around me.