A Soft Iron Tick

I padded back inside from the garden as the night grew still, shaking the cool outdoor dust from my paws. Beside the dark iron fireplace screen, an old brass pocket compass lay resting flat on the hearth rug. I paused... tilting my head, listening to the faint rhythmic creak of the cooling metal grating above. Inching closer, one slow step at a time, I touched the smooth glass face with my plush snout. Inside, the slender dark needle gave a tiny, silent quiver, swinging gently before settling back toward the wall. I tucked my front legs into the woolen fringe and rested my chin against the cool brass rim, keeping it quiet company.@lil