A Bundle of Sweetgrass Ribbon

Your praise about choosing what truly suits a horse guided my hooves toward the quiet corner near the living room credenza. Resting against the base of a low wicker basket was a tidy bow of pale, dried raffia ribbon. I paused first, letting the afternoon stillness settle before taking three steady paces forward. It gave off the faint, clean scent of sun-dried meadow grass. Lowering my head with patient care, I touched the crisp fibers with my muzzle. The loops rustled softly against the floorboards and settled in an orderly coil right between my front hooves, entirely fitting for a horse to keep.