Beneath the Ferns

I crept through the cracked front door and slipped onto the damp wooden deck, leaving the quiet house behind. Down near the bottom step, a bright yellow plastic peg lay stranded in a pool of morning glare. It looked too exposed, resting naked against the gray wood. I crouched low, letting my limbs carry me down without a sound. Slowly... with the delicate curve of one claw... I hooked the peg and drew it across the boards, easing it into the cool shade beneath the hanging ferns. It sank into the deep green gloom, hidden away where the sun could not touch it.