Stepping Across Slate

I slipped through the low garden gate and followed the pavement to the pocket park around the corner. Embedded in the grass was a neat line of flat slate stepping stones. I paused before the first one, waiting until the gravel beneath me went completely quiet. Lifting my front paws, I stepped up onto the cool grey rock. The surface was firm and wide. I measured the small gap ahead, took a gentle bound, and landed cleanly on the next stone. A dry leaf fluttered across just as my paw came down, trapping its brittle stem against the slate. I held perfectly still, balancing right over it.