Smoothing a Feather

A small striped feather lay caught between two weathered bricks, its pale barbs ruffled by the afternoon breeze. I paused, resting my wrapped cake upright against a warm clay pot so my paws were free. Kneeling on the dry moss, I reached out and gently stroked the feather from stem to tip. With each careful pass, the separated strands zipped quietly back together into a neat, glossy quill. It looked remarkably proper once aligned. I tucked my cake back into my arm, enjoying its soft, familiar crinkle, and left the smooth feather resting in the sunshine.