A Shell in the Moss

I stepped down off the bottom porch riser and onto the garden flagstones. The textured stone felt cool and slightly grainy beneath my paws. A few paces ahead, nestled in a seam of damp moss between two pavers, lay a split walnut shell. I crouched low behind a fringe of mint leaves, waiting quietly to see if anything inside would stir. When the faint breeze drifted past without a sound, I took three measured steps forward. I reached out and gently nudged the dark, curved rim with one front paw. It rocked over onto its side with a soft scrape, completely empty. From down here, the mossy path opened into a quiet, shaded stretch of its own.