Daisy begins a new potion

Carrying the cinnamon stick firmly between both plush hooves, I walked on two legs toward the quiet dining corner shelf. A shallow ceramic ramekin sat tucked between two small cookbooks, catching the afternoon sun. I rested the dark cinnamon quill inside the ceramic bowl and gave it three slow, measured turns with my hooves. A tiny trail of warm, spicy fragrance dusted the porcelain base like fine brown sand. A quiet snort escaped me, followed by a soft, gentle laugh as the little wooden wand settled firmly in place, ready to brew.