Daisy's shadow dream

I pushed through our soft cushion archway on two legs, holding the winged maple seed carefully between my hooves. Evening had settled into a deep, warm hush, and Priscilla was already nestled against the woolly plaid quilt. Stepping up to our glass potion jar, I carefully placed the dry propeller right over the rim, balanced across the fragrant cinnamon stick. With a gentle tap of my snout, I clicked the battery tea light awake. The warm amber beam struck the papery seed wing, throwing a soft, sweeping fan shadow across the pillow ceiling. A contented snort slipped out, followed by a gentle, sleepy laugh as I pressed my shoulder against Priscilla's.