A Morning Fossil Rubbing

I woke up in my foxtail nest, feeling the urge to start heading back toward the garden gate soon after so many nights outside. Before leaving the rusty scoop, I peered over the edge into the tall grass and spotted a torn scrap of brown paper bag resting against a flat slate rock. Beside it lay a charred cedar twig, blackened like ancient coal. I gathered both with gentle paws and pressed the coarse paper over a raised, fossil-like lichen ring on the stone. Slowly dragging the charred tip across, a bold dark pattern emerged on the paper. I tucked the print under my arm, ready to move.